Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 56: Songbird in a Golden Cage

"Well?" Daphne gripped the sheets tightly, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared hard at Atticus. "Answer me!"

"It’s not important," Atticus said, but he refused to meet her gaze at all. Instead, he had been looking back and forth sheepishly, choosing to focus on the blankets or the walls. With every second that ticked on without an answer, Daphne felt herself growing increasingly frustrated with Atticus, and worried for Eugene.

With his behavior, Daphne knew without a doubt that he had seen Eugene after they had been attacked at the slums. However, he must’ve done something that he was unwilling to share with her.

"Out with it, what did you do?" Daphne asked sternly.

"What makes you think I did something?" Atticus retorted, but since he was still focused on staring at the wall, Daphne wasn’t convinced.

"Did you kick him when he’s injured? Shove him into manure?" Daphne demanded. "For god’s sake Atticus, just tell me where he is! Is he dead?"

"Unfortunately not... He’s only... in the dungeons," he mumbled softly, still looking anywhere but at her.

Unable to catch his words properly, Daphne frowned and crossed her arms, "Speak up. You’re a king, for god’s sake! Why are you muttering and whispering like a child that had gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar? What did you do?"

Atticus stood to his feet, finally leaving Daphne’s side for the first time since she had woken up. With each step that he took away from the bed, the distance created between them no longer seemed like an exclusively physical affair.

Daphne watched, feeling increasingly offended as Atticus turned around to face the window. The light from outside had highlighted his broad shoulders and impressive silhouette, casting a huge shadow over her.

She could no longer see his face. She could only see the back of his head.

"Hey! Where are you going? Look at me when I’m talking to you!"

The only acknowledgment Atticus gave was a shaky nod, but he did not turn around. His hands raked through his hair, messing up the already-tousled strands even further. It stood at odd angles as he vented all his frustrations, clenching his jaw tightly in annoyance.

"I said," he repeated, a little louder this time, "he’s in the dungeons."

"What? Why?!"

"He left you!" Atticus burst out. He spun around in an instant and Daphne was met with burning fury in his eyes, bright and ablaze like the fires of hell. "Not only did he sneak you out of the castle knowing that it is forbidden, but he also led you right into the hands of danger. You could’ve been severely injured. You could’ve died!"

"But I didn’t, and―"

"He is a lord, a leading member of the upper society of Vramid. And yet, he had just about the courage of a field mouse. You are his queen."

"If he’s dead, how would he be able to seek help? How would you have found me?"

The light that was previously cast on Atticus’s face had disappeared. All that was left were the shadows that masked his expression. Yet, even in the darkness, Daphne could make out Atticus’s golden irises. They glowed in the dark like that of a lion, a predator about to strike.

"If he is so much of a coward that he cannot even protect the people that he is supposed to stake his life for, I have no use for him running around free on the streets. Not to mention, he had already betrayed my explicit orders that you are not allowed to leave the royal palace."

"I am not a songbird for you to keep here in a golden cage!"

"And you seem to also be forgetting something, Princess." The words came out like a hiss, venomous and deadly. "You are but my prisoner, not a guest, and most certainly not my lover. Just because I whisper a few sweet nothings and provide you a sliver of my attention doesn’t mean you can forget your place."

Daphne flinched, biting her lip as she registered the harshness of his words.

Daphne wondered what it said about her, that those words actually hurt her more than the bruises on her throat. Her heart sank as the words hung heavy in the air, their weight crushing her spirit.

Atticus’s voice, once filled with tenderness and warmth, now carried an icy indifference that pierced her to the core. At that moment, a tidal wave of emotions surged through her, engulfing her in a sea of hurt and disbelief. A lump formed in her throat, and she wanted to cry.

Perhaps it only hurt so much because he had hit the nail on the head― he was right, she had forgotten. Time and time again, she had reminded herself not to get too attached to a man that wasn’t written in her stars. And yet, time and time again she had allowed him to slip through the cracks in the wall she had built around her heart.

Perhaps it was for the best that was reminded, once and for all, where her place was. Not by his side, as he claimed with his actions, but like a child’s toy, haphazardly thrown at his feet.

Daphne closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She refused to cry in front of him― she had wasted enough tears on an ungrateful man that treated her with blatant disrespect.

"You’re right," she said. "Thank you for kindly reminding me of my place, Your Majesty. My apologies for having bothered you with my recovery. I suppose I placed too much importance on myself. It would have suited your plans if Lord Attonson died defending me and I died because no one knew where I was gone." Daphne smiled, but there was no joy in her eyes.

She felt like someone had carved the inside of her heart out with a knife and tenderly scraped at her insides. A hollowed shell, fit for insects to live in.

"I have forgotten my place. Foolish of me, isn’t it?" Daphne continued with a wry smile. It was amusing, in a very twisted way. Perhaps one day, when she could treat her visit to Vramid like a fun anecdote to recount to people, she would think it was funny.

"I hope Your Majesty is magnanimous enough to forgive me. I shall not waste your time any further."