Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 267: Dark Experiments IV

Chapter 267: Dark Experiments IV

Alistair moved aside and gestured for Silas to walk into the dark room before him. Silas sighed and walked into the room, shaking his head in disappointment.

Since Alistair had lost his hand, he had been overly suspicious and paranoid of everyone around him, including his wife. Silas wasn’t a fool; he knew that Leonora’s actions had painted a huge target on them both, and now it was up to Silas to resolve this mess.

He wanted a peaceful life where he could visit whores, drink his life away, and make merry, but that life was impossible so long as Alistair remained handless. Without a hand, he was no longer a crown prince, which meant Silas was now a threat.

On the off chance he didn’t get killed by his jealous older brother, Silas might have to be king. That was a fate even worse than death. He didn’t need additional securities shackling him down.

Hence Silas could only hope that Eugene Attonson could truly regrow a hand so that his brother stopped snapping at shadows.

"Lord Attonson, thank you for accepting our invitation," Silas said politely into the empty space. He heard a sharp snap of fingers and the room was suddenly doused in bright light as all the candles lit up at the same time.

Silas’s eyes widened in surprise at the precision and control displayed. For someone who did not receive instruction from a royal family, Eugene Attonson was incredibly skilled.

Good. That meant that there was some truth to the rumors after all. Silas had not brought his brother on a wasted trip.

"It’s good to see both of you," Eugene Attonson said, giving them both a genial smile, as though they were both old friends. He was surrounded by many beautiful women, all blondes.

A shiver went down Silas’s spine. All of them had an uncanny resemblance to his eldest sister and could easily pass for yet another long-lost member of their family. Either Reaweth had more blondes than he thought, or his father had been sowing wild oats for years in secret.

"I’m sorry to hear about your hand, Crown Prince Alistair," Eugene started. "Can I offer you a drink in this trying time?"

"Cut the small talk," Alistair growled out angrily. In comparison to his stressed, weary visage, Jean Nott looked particularly well-rested, with his shiny hair and glowing skin. He certainly didn’t seem like an escaped convict on the run from a highly dangerous king; he looked more like an idle noble on holiday!

Silas shot him a panicked look, wordlessly pleading for him to be polite.

"Silas, leave us," Alistair ordered.

Silas blinked in surprise. Eugene hid his amusement behind his glass of wine. It seemed that Alistair had not informed his siblings about their prior connection.

"Alistair, are you sure that is wise?" he whispered anxiously, but Alistair rolled his eyes at his uncharacteristic overprotectiveness.

"I’m crippled, not useless. Go and stand guard outside," Alistair said.

Eugene cleared his throat, attracting their attention. "Unfortunately, Prince Silas would attract the wrong kind of attention if he were to loiter outside. If you want privacy, perhaps we can go upstairs instead?"

"But―" Silas wanted to protest — he wanted to see for his own two eyes what Lottie had said about Viscount Attonson — but he held his tongue at the furious look in Alistair’s eyes.

"Fine. Silas, wait here," Alistair said before he then followed Eugene Attonson up a staircase into one of the rooms, and slammed the door shut after him with his one good hand.

Silas watched the closed door in trepidation. Surely nothing would go wrong... right?

"Prince Silas, please take a seat," one of the women gestured to a free chair, her eyes sweet and hopeful. "May we offer you some refreshments?"

"Might as well," Silas groaned and sank into one of the chairs, hoping that he would get to finish at least a glass before negotiations went sour.

"Perhaps you would like some music?" another asked. She and a few other women had all sorts of instruments with them.

Silas soon found himself in the arms of beautiful women, surrounded by equally mesmerizing music. Soon enough, his elder brother was all but tossed to the back of his mind.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, the music had barely masked Alistair’s heated tone.

"You have not replied to any of my previous messages," Alistair seethed, slamming his one hand on the table. "And now you show up after getting contacted by my brother? Are you making a fool out of me?"

"Careful, you don’t want to hurt that other hand too," Eugene said with a wry twist of his lips. He expertly opened a bottle of wine and offered a glass to Alistair, who flung it on the floor. "Ah, what a waste," Eugene said, but he didn’t look displeased.

"King Atticus is out there hunting for you right now," Alistair said. Then, he let out a crazed laugh, almost like an ecstatic dog barking with joy at the sight of a meaty bone. "He might already know that you’re here."

"I wouldn’t be surprised," Eugene said. He poured himself a glass, swirling it before deeply breathing in the smell of the alcoholic drink. Sighing, Eugene smiled. "His loyal guard dog has been patrolling the area nearly every night. I heard he’s strolling the rest of town the other half of the time."

"And yet you can sit here without any care," Alistair said through gritted teeth. "I can’t help but applaud you for your lack of self-preservation."

"There is no use in panicking," Eugene said, leaning against his chair. He blinked slowly at Alistair, uncaring of his guest’s rising temper.

"If King Atticus wanted to, he could easily raze this red-light district to the ground just to hunt me down. Who am I to stop the man who could single-handedly slay a dragon? I’m not foolhardy enough to pick a fight I cannot win."

As he spoke, his eyes darted over to Alistair’s missing hand, lingering there for a second too long as a smirk found its way onto his lips.