Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 238: Deal with the Devil II

Chapter 238: Deal with the Devil II

"Brother Alistair, are you alright?"

Drusilla was the first to rush over. The moment Atticus released them from his magic, she sprinted over and landed right by Alistair, helping him up. It was a wonder how Drusilla managed to do all that with her heels on and still look every bit as perfect and ladylike.

Prince Alistair coughed, his hand pressing against his chest. Otherwise, he didn’t seem to have taken too much damage. It might not have been obvious for the naked eye but King Atticus had placed a barrier to cushion his hit. He hadn’t taken as much damage as he would’ve if he hadn’t been wrapped in magic.

After all, Atticus only meant to scare him. They were in a foreign land. It wouldn’t be wise to act up when his army wasn’t ready yet.

"I’m... fine..." Alistair said, struggling to sit upright.

"What is the meaning of this?!" King Cyrus bellowed. He raised a hand to gesture at his fallen son, his face even redder than before, colored by anger. "King Atticus, I invite you into my home out of goodwill to dine at my family’s table and this is how you treat my firstborn?"

"Don’t make me laugh, King Cyrus." Atticus merely scoffed.

Instead of standing up to match his father-in-law, Atticus merely sat back and kicked his legs onto the table. His boots landed heavily on the tableware, causing food to splatter across to the other side. Luis and Blanche barely dodged in time. If not, they would’ve gotten a face full of gravy.

"We both know why you’ve invited me and my wife over, and it’s definitely not because you’ve missed your wonderful little daughter," Atticus spat the words out as though they were venom. His tone was filled with mockery. "You’ve offered no word of congratulations at our wedding, no word of care throughout Daphne’s stay in Vramid, and now that your son and daughter have returned from the Crowned Conquest, we’re suddenly invited to come visit?"

He shot a glare in the siblings’ direction, rolling his eyes as he watched Drusilla help Alistair back to his feet.

"Surely your useless son and bastard daughter had decided to weave a nice little tale to blow into your ear," Atticus concluded.

"Do not speak ill of my daughter," Lady Josephine said, her expression furious.

She could stand down for certain things, especially in front of kings and queens, but Drusilla was a subject no one could touch. King Cyrus had also shown considerate favoritism towards Drusilla, increasing Lady Josephine’s confidence in defending her child.

"Right, you," Atticus plainly said. "I forgot about the maid."

Atticus hadn’t even bothered raising his hand. His ring merely glowed and a shawl of purple wrapped around Lady Josephine’s neck. Atticus didn’t even look in her direction and yet, she was lifted off the ground. Her hands reached up and clawed at her neck, short gasps escaping her lips as she tried to breathe but failed.

"Mother!" Drusilla screamed from where she stood. She watched in horror as King Atticus toyed and played with her mother’s life as though she was no more than a doll.

"Who gave you the right to speak in the presence of royalty?" Atticus asked, casually examining his nails. "Even the queen of Reaweth hadn’t said anything and yet, you dare to voice your thoughts?"

Lady Josephine’s face was already starting to turn blue. Her body felt weak and her head was starting to turn light. She couldn’t help it― her eyes were already beginning to roll to the back of her head.

Queen Anette merely watched from one side, speechless. Her hands were clasped over her lips, shock causing color to drain from her face.

She was thankful― thankful that King Atticus seemed to have forgotten that it was her who threw the ice spikes at him, thankful that she wasn’t the one that was being suffocated to death right now via magic, and thankful that her daughter had melted the ice before it hit the ruthless king.

If it had, he wouldn’t have died. Instead, he would’ve just made sure that she did.

There was another thing. She was also thankful that King Atticus helped her accomplish what she had always wanted to do for herself. It was utterly satisfying watching that vile woman struggle like a worm on a hook.

"Atticus," Daphne gently said from his side, a hand placed on her shoulder. "It’s my first night back, we needn’t shed blood."

The Molinero family watched, flabbergasted, as the tyrant ruler’s expression softened. His eyes looked as though they were glazed over with honey rather than the insane, blazing gold of a heated hearth it previously held. It was astounding watching the effect Daphne — a princess they had deemed absolutely useless and unlikable — had on a king that was known for his evil.

The purple haze that surrounded Lady Josephine quickly disappeared and she collapsed back down, landing on the floor with a thud.

Drusilla had just made it back to the table. Once Alistair lifted her hands away from her shoulders, she dashed towards her mother.

"Just like her mother," Atticus commented. "I suppose the qualities of a maid can’t be bred out, even when it’s mixed with the blood of royalty."

Lady Josephine coughed, her desperate breaths of air echoing through the otherwise silent dining hall. No one dared to speak. Even their breathing was quiet, hushed, afraid that if they were just even slightly too loud, they would be the cruel king’s next subject of torture.

"King Atticus," King Cyrus said with a sigh, "what say we continue our conversation in my office? I’ll have the servants clean up this mess and we can find somewhere more comfortable to talk." He glanced at his children. "In private."

Everyone scuttered off upon their father’s signal. They hurriedly bowed their heads or curtsied before scuttling out as though their lives depended on it. Only Drusilla and Lady Josephine remained, the latter supported by her daughter, still struggling to catch her breath.

Drusilla took a step towards the king, her lips parting to say something, but she was quickly stopped before a single word even left her lips.

"Not now, Drusilla," King Cyrus said.

"But Father―"

"I said, not now."

His firm reply caused Drusilla to instantly zip her mouth shut. She pursed her lips, nodding.

"Yes, Father." Then, she turned to Atticus, completely ignoring Daphne, and said, "Please excuse us, King Atticus."

She then left the dining hall with her mother.

"Well then," King Cyrus said, heaving out a large breath. "This way, King Atticus. Let us have a talk in my office. We have much to discuss."

He did not address his own daughter directly, but King Cyrus’s gaze did land on Daphne’s for a fragment of a second. He seemed deep in thought but that look quickly went out of view when he turned and left.

Daphne exchanged a glance with Atticus before they, too, followed after him.

Time to see what this old crook had up his sleeves.