Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 103: Missing Sincerity

Chapter 103: Missing Sincerity

"An apology?!" Alistair echoed in disbelief.

He bellowed in laughter, clutching his stomach and wiping imaginary tears out of his eyes until he realized that Atticus was very much serious about his words. He then scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

"Pray tell, King Atticus, why should I do such a thing?"

Atticus merely calmly walked over to where Daphne stood.

Just like Drusilla had pointed out, his wife was in the center of it all. Her dress was nowhere near pristine, having experienced the brunt of everything. She had several chunks of food all over her skirts, staining the material in all sorts of colors. Her hair was also in a mess with strands sticking out of place.

The rest of the women had all pointed their fingers and thrown their insults at Daphne and yet, they failed to realize that she wasn’t someone that had managed to emerge from the scene unscathed. Daphne, too, was a victim.

"I agree that my beloved wife can be a little clumsy at times, as Princess Drusilla said."

Atticus’s footsteps stopped when he finally stood in front of Daphne. She had her back slightly hunched, almost as though she was trying to hide herself despite having nowhere to run to. Now that he stood right in front of her, Daphne looked even smaller than usual. She could fit perfectly into his shadow.

As she was no longer under the limelight, Daphne could finally look up to see what it was that had sheltered her. She was met with Atticus’s face, handsome as ever, expressionless still. Yet, she thought she saw a trace of warmth in his eyes that was reserved especially for her. It disappeared once he looked back at the crowd.

"However," Atticus continued, "her clumsiness does not equate to her being a complete imbecile nor a social menace that will purposely knock things over. As her brother, you should be more worried about her safety than reprimanding and belittling her in front of a crowd."

"Just because it was an accident also doesn’t mean that it wasn’t her fault," Alistair said.

"In that case, shouldn’t the question be why the accident had happened in the first place?" Atticus’s expression turned cold. He stood protectively in front of Daphne, shielding her away from the prying eyes of the crowd. "If I hadn’t heard wrongly, my wife was in the midst of explaining what had happened when you rudely cut her off and then proceeded to slander her name."

Now it was Prince Alistair’s turn to be at a loss for words.

"I―"

"Why was Princess Drusilla so interested in my wife’s hands despite her obvious discomfort with showing them?"

Atticus looked Drusilla straight in the eye. In the eyes of the onlookers, it looked as though a mere mortal was about to receive punishment from the gods.

"Or does Princess Drusilla have such little social awareness to not know when to back off or how to tell when the other party is uncomfortable with sharing certain private pieces of information?"

"We were merely discussing wedding rings," Drusilla softly said. She hid half her body behind her half-brother, holding onto his sleeves as if she would be swallowed whole by the ground if she dared to let go. "With her position as the queen of Vramid, everyone was curious about what Sister Daphne’s ring might look like."

Drusilla paused for a second, looking around unsurely.

She then said, "Only... I was a little surprised. Sister Daphne doesn’t seem to be wearing a wedding or engagement ring."

With that piece of news dropped, the entire banquet hall erupted into murmurs. No one cared about the ruined banquet and soiled clothing any longer. All that they spoke about was Daphne’s empty finger and how the spot where a ring should be was suspiciously empty.

They gestured at Daphne and Atticus as the chatter grew in volume, all of them coming up with wild conclusions of their own.

Seeing how everyone had caught on to what she was implying, Drusilla grew a little bolder. She stepped out from Prince Alistair’s protective hold, squaring her shoulders as she met Atticus’s gaze.

"What is the meaning of this, King Atticus? Everyone knows that a wedding ring is a sacred gift to every bride, especially among the nobility. The ring is not only a token of love but also a symbol of protection, something the bride can use to defend herself during times of need."

The corner of her lips curved slightly, holding its place only for a fraction of a second. But that was enough for Atticus’s sharp eyes to catch.

"Are you just toying with my sister’s heart? Or are you a hypocrite and that despite preaching about how Brother Alistair shouldn’t belittle Sister Daphne, you too think that a ring wouldn’t do Sister Daphne any good due to her inability to perform magic?"

The voices and discussions grew in volume until it eventually felt as though Daphne was about to be drowned by it all. Wherever she looked, it seemed as though everyone in the banquet hall had grown heaps and bounds while she stayed the same, perhaps even shrinking little by little. She couldn’t breathe, hyper-aware of all the stares and gestures thrown her way.

Nevertheless, what Drusilla had pointed out was nothing short of the truth. She had no ring. There was no token of love because there was no love.

Princess Daphne Molinero of Reaweth was never meant to marry King Atticus Heinvres of Vramid. Their marriage was neither arranged nor was it willingly agreed upon by both parties― she was kidnapped! She probably hadn’t even said ’I do’ herself; it was highly likely that Atticus had used magic to command her to do so.

Besides, even Atticus had thought she was incapable of magic until the day they spent at the Yuletide fair. If it weren’t for that day, she would still be as her siblings and the rest of the attendees claimed.

Useless. A poor excuse for a queen.

A torrent of humiliation flushed through her until Daphne could stand it no longer.

Under the pressing, watchful gazes of everybody present, she picked up her skirts and dashed out of the dining hall, trying her best to ignore the sound of Atticus calling her name.