Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 222: A Proper Proposal

Chapter 222: A Proper Proposal

Daphne suddenly heard the swell of violins. She turned around to see a group of musicians that had struck up a romantic tune. They were noticeably not looking in her direction, making it seem like they had simply decided to practice at this time, at this place.

Daphne narrowed her eyes. Did the castle even house musicians? She took a closer look and realized there were flower petals scattered all over the garden.

"Were they there the whole time?" Daphne wondered, pointing to them instead of answering Atticus’s question. "And I think the servants forgot to sweep the courtyard. It’s very messy."

Atticus wanted to slap himself― he had pulled out all the stops to make the proposal a romantic event, but it seemed to be distracting his wife instead!

Jonah was going to pay for his crummy advice! Atticus helpfully forgot that Jonah had mentioned that the musicians were supposed to play before he popped the question. Atticus was simply too eager that he asked even before they were ready. Even though the flower petals were meant to form the shape of a heart, but the gentle spring breeze had blown the petals from their formation, causing them to scatter.

At the other side of town, Jonah, who was escorting the Seiberts out of the town, only sneezed.

"Atticus?"

Atticus only laughed awkwardly. "Why yes! I had them specially flown in for an event. Ignore the flowers. I’ll have Jonah sweep them up later."

Again, Jonah sneezed. The Seiberts exchanged glances and slowly drifted away from him. They were already going to suffer during exile; they didn’t want to catch any illness too!

"An event?" Daphne furrowed her eyebrows; she didn’t recall there was anything planned on Vramid’s social calendar. Unless...

"You want to celebrate Francessa Seibert’s downfall with a ball? That’s a brilliant idea!" She beamed, delighted at his initiative. This was the perfect way to reintroduce herself in Vramid’s upper social circles. With the old queen bee gone, Daphne needed a chance to step up and prove her worth.

"No!"

Daphne blinked, surprised by the vehemence of his rejection. Atticus collected himself.

"I mean― if you want, but that’s not what they were for," he said, clearing his throat.

He needed to pull Daphne’s attention back where it belonged― on him, not on the stupid flower petals and musicians.

"They are meant for our wedding. My dear Daphne, will you marry me?" Atticus asked. He went down on one knee, staring into her eyes as he embraced her once again, willing her to understand the gravity of his request.

Daphne’s mouth fell open as she finally registered her husband’s words.

Then she laughed straight into his face, her body bowed over like an archer’s bow.

Atticus spluttered; out of all the reactions he expected for his planned proposal, this wasn’t what he had in mind!

"Atticus, stand up, my dear. We’re already married," Daphne reminded him gently, with an amused smile as she tried to tug him up. "Did you work so hard that you forgot you married me?"

She raised a hand to place on his forehead. Nope, her husband wasn’t feverish. So it wasn’t a sickness that compelled him to make such a strange request, but she should get Sirona to take a look at him afterward to be sure.

Daphne didn’t think her husband had such a poor memory, but perhaps the investigation had taken a toll on him.

Ah, maybe this was Atticus’s way to remind her to put on her wedding ring! She had taken it off for the sake of her disguise. As expected of her husband’s tendency to play mind games. She used to hate them, but now she found them strangely charming.

"Atticus, if you wanted me to put my ring back on, you could have just said so," Daphne continued, cheerfully chiding him.

It would have been safer to leave it in the palace, but Daphne didn’t like going anywhere without it, so she had tucked it into the pocket of Maisie’s dress.

Thankfully, the ring was still in her pocket. She quickly took it out and slipped it on, admiring how the moonstone glinted in the sun. The blue sheen was very present and apparent, but Daphne was now secure in her relationship with Atticus that their lack of bedroom activities didn’t faze her.

"Here it is!" She gestured with a flourish. It nearly blinded Atticus’s eyes."Don’t tell me you forgot you gave me this ring!"

To her surprise, Atticus grabbed at her hand, a pout on his face.

"Sunshine, you’re the one who has forgotten something. I only gave you a ring, I didn’t give you a real wedding. I want to do better this time around." He squeezed her hands to emphasize his point.

Daphne wanted to argue, but then she paused when she recalled the start of her tumultuous relationship with Atticus.

Thrown on the floor like a sack of garbage, carried like a sack of potatoes to her rooms, and forced into a wedding gown in front of a horde of equally unwilling guests... She was forced to marry her now-husband in order to stop him from slaughtering his people, and the priest responsible for overseeing her wedding ceremony was willfully blind to any flaws and machinations that happened.

And she somehow gave her first kiss to Atticus afterward.

Daphne couldn’t help it; peals of helpless giggles escaped her lips. Atticus watched his wife laugh even louder to herself, wondering if he made a mistake by bringing up the past. It wasn’t rosy at all, but that was why he had to make things right.

"Oh my goodness. You have a point. We really had a ridiculous wedding, didn’t we?" Daphne mused fondly as her mind helpfully recalled more memories. She wiped away some of the tears that formed from laughing too hard.

Meanwhile, Atticus could only kick himself mentally when he saw the delicate beads of tears swell behind Daphne’s eyelids. This was all his fault.

If he had known he was about to marry the light of his life, he wouldn’t have allowed for such a haphazardly rushed job for the wedding ceremony! Back then, his goals were to get his hands on a Reawethen bride to further his goals.

Daphne caught sight of the crushed look in Atticus’s eyes. She cupped his face with her hands, almost reverently as though she was holding a priceless fragile artifact.

Her poor husband was truly torn up about this. Her heart ached for him, even as sheer exuberant joy radiated from her very soul. She didn’t need a second wedding, but perhaps... she wanted one. Now that she saw things from Atticus’s point of view.

"Alright, I’ll marry you again. But on one condition!"

"Name it, I’ll agree to anything!" Atticus said immediately.

"We’ll still hold a ball to celebrate the downfall of the Seiberts." Daphne smiled victoriously down at Atticus, and he felt his heart quaver in his chest. In the light of the afternoon sun, her hair glowed like molten gold, her joy an infectious malady of which he had no need for a cure.

She was so lovely, that simply looking at her made Atticus hurt. He had to do it.

"I want to rub my success into everyone’s faces, including all those―"

Atticus rose up in one fluid motion and crushed his lips to hers.

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