Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 122: Hit the Apple III

Chapter 122: Hit the Apple III

"I... I..." Drusilla hemmed and hawed, desperately looking around the crowd. She tried her best to find support, but no one wanted to meet her eyes. There was no one willing to argue for her, let alone take her place in the archery contest.

"Can you speak up?" Cordelia asked irritably. "She asked you a simple ’yes’ or ’no’ question. Stop wasting everyone’s time!"

"...Brother... but... must I..." Drusilla made a last-ditch attempt, pleading with Alistair to change his mind. She tried to communicate with him via the tears in her eyes. Why couldn’t her brother see that she was terrified?

Surely, winning a simple archery contest was not worth her life! Her brother had already gotten second place, wasn’t that enough?

Yet Alistair remained unmoved from his original decision, even as he patted Drusilla on her head to reassure her. He had seen his sister’s fear and unease, and it made him fume from within. To think he had doted on her so much the moment she entered the castle! In the end, she had no faith in his abilities at all.

Drusilla’s fear would have been easier to swallow if Daphne was also terrified, but she apparently believed her husband to be so good, so superior to Alistair that she didn’t need to worry for her life. Daphne had more faith in the husband she had known for a month than Drusilla had for him, the brother she had known for years!

The contrast was so clear, it was almost a slap to his face!

He fumed. He would use this chance to prove to Drusilla who was the better man. He turned to Cordelia and declared, "You’re right, we should not waste any time."

Drusilla’s heart soared. She knew her brother would listen to her! He had always had her best interest at heart! He was the best brother ever―

"My sister agrees to this arrangement."

Her heart plummeted to the ground, and her legs began to shake with fear. Drusilla stared at Alistair disbelievingly, but her brother only looked back at her stonily.

"Perfect! Now let’s get started quickly so we can get some lunch." Cordelia clapped her hands and smiled at Prince Nathaniel. "Do you want to do the honors? Or shall I?"

Prince Nathaniel inwardly sighed and gestured for the four of them to follow him. The men were then forced to wait at the starting line while Drusilla and Daphne followed him to the end of the field, standing far enough apart from each other just in case an arrow flew wrongly.

"This is all your fault," Drusilla couldn’t help but bitterly mutter, glaring at Daphne. Her perfectly innocent mask had slipped under the pressure of fear. "How could you drag me into this?"

"Isn’t your good friend to blame for this?" Daphne pointed out, not even bothering to look at her. She merely placidly balanced the apple on her head. Years of etiquette lessons had come in handy after all. "She volunteered me. I suppose the heavens above seek fairness."

"You―" Drusilla shifted angrily, and her apple rolled off. She let out an unladylike curse and put it back on, trying her best to stand still. Yet when she spotted her brother loading his arrow from the distance, she couldn’t help trembling.

Daphne saw her twitching and fidgeting from the corner of her eye, and it took every bit of her composure to not mock her. Drusilla could say all sorts of mean untruths behind her back, but deep down, she was a coward focused on self-preservation.

For the final round of the competition, each of the two men will have to pierce the apple successfully three times. They had three tries each― the competitor that could shoot the arrow the most number of times would win the competition.

After the troubles Daphne had endured, an or three arrow from Atticus wasn’t anything to worry about. She breathed in deeply and held her position. Death was an old friend.

"Begin!" Prince Nathaniel’s voice echoed from the other end, and Drusilla began shaking like a leaf.

Meanwhile, Daphne kept her eyes open, watching Atticus load his own arrow. Even apart, she could imagine the steadiness of Atticus’s hands, the resolve in his gaze. He would never hurt her.

She took in a deep breath and imagined herself as an old tree, rooted to the ground.

Swoosh!

The arrow flew over her, and Daphne heard a dull thud above her head, the sound of the arrow piercing through the crunchy apple reverberating in her ears. She exhaled slowly, finally relaxing as she felt the apple fall off her head.

The apple landed on the ground, an arrow embedded through it. Daphne smiled. Atticus had aimed this arrow at the top half of the apple to reduce her chances of getting hurt.

Meanwhile, the onlookers cheered loud enough for Daphne to hear. She smiled and waved at them, and they cheered louder, like children after seeing a magician’s trick.

But it wasn’t over just yet.

Daphne was handed a new apple to place on her head as Atticus readied his second arrow. Just like the first, he easily sniped it without hurting even a hair on her head. The third arrow followed successfully as well, with the most damage done to Daphne being the juice that had leaked from the fruit where it had been pierced.

Atticus bowed with a flourish and eagerly jogged towards Daphne now that he proved himself successful. At that moment, everyone thought he seemed more like a puppy than the fearsome king of the north.

"You did it," Daphne said, beaming proudly at him. She took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at his face. Atticus wasn’t immune to the heat, and there were beads of sweat forming on his temples. "I’m very proud of you."

"So you weren’t scared at all?" Atticus asked teasingly.

"Why would I be?" Daphne retorted cheerfully. "I had every faith in you!"

As the lovers continue to coo over each other, Drusilla’s face could have curdled milk. But she restrained herself from spitting in their faces. Her priority was saving her own skin!

"Sister!" Drusilla called out sweetly, attracting both of their attention. "Since King Atticus has successfully shot down the apples, perhaps we can just call off this contest and declare him the winner?"

"What are you saying? Of course we can’t!" Atticus interrupted, appalled. "I refuse to win like this. Your brother and I have staked our pride on this contest. Even if your brother manages to shoot down all three of your apples, we’ll simply get the both of you to continue standing with apples on your heads until we finally get a winner."

’Until someone finally gets injured,’ was what went unsaid. Drusilla paled as she realized this, her body trembling further.

"Stand up straight. If you keep twitching and fidgeting, the arrow will definitely hit you," Daphne ordered.

"I don’t need you to tell me that!" Drusilla shrieked, but she tried to remain calm. Her breath came out in ragged gasps, and she seemed to sway in the non-existent breeze.

"She must really love to make your brother’s life more difficult," Atticus commented quietly into Daphne’s ear as he led her further away from Drusilla.

"At least someone else is suffering because of her for a change." Daphne shrugged.

They held their breaths, and Alistair’s arrow flew through the air.