Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 77: Magic is Might

Chapter 77: Magic is Might

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Flying implied they had some control of their movements, which they definitely didn’t. The earlier howls that had terrified her became whimpers. She watched, in increasing awe, as the horde of them were flung through the air as though they were nothing more than a flurry of snowflakes, swirling around each other in a beautiful dance.

There could only be one person responsible for such a feat. Daphne looked down, and true enough, Atticus had both his arms outstretched, a maniacal grin on his face. He twitched his fingers, and the thornhounds collided with each other.

The sharp thorns that had protected them and hurt so many of Atticus’s men were turned on each other, and everyone watched in silence as the thornhounds literally ripped each other to shreds without mercy.

In that very moment, Daphne understood why her husband was so feared. Atticus stood there, laughing as he was showered by the thorns fallen from the thornhounds, their blood splattering on the floor in gory accompaniment.

He was completely unhurt by their attacks.

Finally, Atticus had enough fun. He slammed his arms down, and every single thornhound found themselves plummeting straight down to the ground. Those that weren’t dead in the earlier attempt definitely had their bones crushed this time from the impact.

"Finally, it’s over," Jonah said, shrugging his shoulders as they watched Atticus stretch his arms.

"Do you see this often?" Daphne had to ask. Jonah didn’t seem impressed by this display of power.

"I’ve seen it enough times to lose count," Jonah said dryly. He turned around and saw Daphne’s shell-shocked face and sighed. "You didn’t close your eyes?"

"...No."

"Ah," was Jonah’s helpful response. It was better for Daphne to know what Atticus could do earlier on, even though Atticus was so powerful and gifted he bordered on ridiculous. There were natural disasters less destructive than Atticus’s potential for carnage.

"There’s not really a need to," Daphne said. She then clarified, "I’ve seen him quite literally rip heads off of people on our wedding night."

Jonah grimaced. "That explains the blood stains I had to wash off."

Atticus, meanwhile, simply strolled towards them leisurely as though he was on a walk in his own castle.

"So, what do you think? I still got it, don’t I?"

"If by ’it’ you mean a big head, then yes, you certainly do," Jonah said, rolling his eyes.

"Casualties?"

"Three deaths. Although, most of us sustained some form of injury," Jonah said, gesturing to his own broken arm.

Out of all his injuries, that was the most severe. His arm was bent at an odd angle, the skin a little swollen and red. The bruises and scrapes would heal on their own, but it would take a month at the very least to fix his arm without magic. It certainly didn’t help that Sirona hadn’t traveled with them.

"Do you think we can get Sirona to join us?"

"A little late for that," Atticus said. "I’ll help you fix it."

"No thanks, I still want to keep my arm." Jonah shifted further away. "I’ll just... bandage it on my own. I’ll snap it back into place later. It’s just a little displaced."

"Why not now?" Daphne asked. "Try not to scream."

She stepped forward in the men’s moment of confusion, taking hold of Jonah’s shoulder and his arm.

"What are you doing?" Jonah asked warily, feeling his arm ache with every movement.

"It’ll help,hopefully. I think," Daphne said.

Moving it a few times as though to test the waters, she pursed her lips and then exerted force. Without warning, a loud snap echoed through the woods, though it was not nearly as loud as Jonah’s yelp of pain.

"What the hell?!"

"Try moving it slowly," Daphne instructed, completely ignoring Jonah’s scathing glares of pure hatred.

He grumbled under his breath but did as told, slowly moving his arm. At first, he winced as a natural response, prepared to feel the pain. But when none hit and everything seemed to move as it should, Jonah slowly peeked through his eyelashes, his eyes widening every second in surprise.

"Well, what do you know?" Jonah gasped in awe, a bright smile taking over his expression. "Thank you, Daphne. It would’ve been annoying traveling with an injury like that."

Atticus, who had caught the use of Daphne’s given name, raised an eyebrow. He folded his arms across his chest, scoffing. "Daphne?"

"Yes?" The woman in question innocently turned to look at her husband, batting her eyelashes gently with a sweet smile dangled on her face, daring him to comment.

So of course he went after Jonah instead. He wasn’t an idiot.

"Jonah, have you forgotten your manners? She is your queen."

"And he is my friend," Daphne swiftly butted in. "So he can call me by my given name."

The look that Daphne had thrown Atticus’s way looked final. He huffed in dissatisfaction, choosing to back down only because he was reminded of how things quickly went sour between Daphne and Eugene Attonson’s friendship. At least this man was his friend, unlike that slimy excuse of a lord.

But why did Atticus’s heart still feel so much unrest?

"Anyway... thornhounds are attracted to scents," Jonah said, bringing the conversation back to the situation at hand. "Someone must’ve led them here to kill you."

"That little scene that they had directed would certainly also attract a lot of attention," Atticus grumbled. He knew full well what sort of tricks Jonah was playing at, though he knew better than to act on his impulsive anger.

"We should change routes."

"No," Atticus immediately shot back. "This route is perfectly fine. It will guarantee the most comfortable journey."

Jonah could understand Atticus caring for Daphne’s comfort, but surely she would be more comfortable not seeing monsters everywhere.

"Three of my men just died," Jonah said in a deadpan. When given Atticus’s pointed look, he could only sigh. They technically did know there was a chance they wouldn’t return. "Fine. But we need to increase security. There is obviously someone that wants you dead and isn’t above using creatures to do their dirty work."

"I give them points for creativity. In fact, they should just start a little club and hand out badges." Atticus grinned. "Do you think we can get them to pay taxes if the society is started in Vramid’s territory?"

"Atticus, be serious!"

"I am serious!" Shrugging, he continued, "I haven’t been this entertained in years. Hope they send a flock of venomous shrikes after me next. I have a craving for chicken."

Slapping his palm to his forehead, Jonah hissed in pain when his glove made contact with a cut there. He quickly recovered, shaking his head when he noticed Daphne’s concerned expression from the sidelines.

"One day, I am going to die at the hands of your stupidity," Jonah groaned. He turned to Daphne and said, "Can you please convince your husband to be a little smarter?"

"If you convince him to teach me how to use my magic like that." Daphne’s eyes practically sparkled as she spoke.

"For crying out loud―"

"That’s my girl." Atticus quietly celebrated, a broad grin stretching his lips wide from ear to ear.

However, that smile of his quickly fell when Daphne spoke again.

"Although, Jonah does have a point. Atticus, why don’t Jonah sit with us in our carriage?"