Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 224: A Watery Situation

Chapter 224: A Watery Situation

Atticus and Jonah bumped into Daphne as she emerged from the rooms, her hair hastily pinned into a bun with one hairpin slid inside it. She was in the midst of changing her gown and hairstyle for the ball when Sirona interrupted her with the news. Maisie had no choice but to give her the simplest hairstyle before her queen all but dashed back out, gown change all but forgotten.

"What do you think happened?" Atticus asked grimly.

"Could be something, could be nothing," Daphne said hopefully, even though deep down, she knew otherwise.

When the word ’water’ was mentioned, Daphne had a feeling Cordelia was involved. Her heart sank to her shoes. She knew Cordelia would never do something mean-spirited or vile and ruin her wedding day, not when she had spared so much effort to make it in the first place, which meant that someone had pushed her buttons so expertly that she felt that she had no choice but to lash out!

Thankfully, the ballroom was still in one piece. There was only one guest who was soaking wet, and he had Cordelia’s arm grasped firmly in his own hand. Every other guest had the sense to steer clear of their confrontation, choosing instead to watch from the edge of the ballroom.

From Daphne’s vantage point, she couldn’t see the man’s face.

"Unhand me this instance, you vermin," Cordelia growled out.

"Not until I get an apology!" The man thundered at her, but Cordelia was unfazed by his demeanor. "What reason do you have for rejecting my dance offer, Princess Cordelia? Do you think yourself so high and mighty!"

Cordelia scoffed and then threw off that man’s hand with so much force that he stumbled back, nearly slipping on the wet floor.

Jonah caught him in time, and that man’s eyes widened when he spotted Daphne and Atticus.

"Just the people I want to see! King Atticus, Queen Daphne, you must vet your guest list more carefully! How can such a ruffian be invited to your wedding?" the man exclaimed.

Daphne’s mouth fell open in surprise― that man was none other than Duke Ferguson, one of the men Drusilla had claimed to be very in love with, but had stepped aside so that Daphne could marry him instead. While he wasn’t as fat or ugly as Drusilla claimed he was, he was no Atticus either.

What Drusilla had forgotten to mention was that Duke Ferguson also happened to be Reaweth’s envoy, which made him the perfect person to invite to witness the wedding and spread the news back to Reaweth. Atticus would rather chop off his limbs than to see Alistair or Drusilla at his wedding, so he was the next best option― or more accurately, he was the least bad out of a lot of terrible options!

"Duke Ferguson, that is my friend you’re addressing," Daphne said firmly, before turning a worried eye at Cordelia. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I’m fine," Cordelia reassured her as she readjusted the top of her dress. One of the thin straps that were meant to stay on the shoulder had fallen off due to her wide arm movements, and one of her breasts nearly popped out from the bustier. "Or at least I was, until this man decided to give me unsolicited advice on my outfit."

Cordelia’s dress was a lovely sea-green blue, and it had rhinestones encrusted on the bustier. The skirt also featured a slit on both sides, revealing her long, toned legs encased in golden heels. In Daphne’s eyes, she looked absolutely stunning!

Unfortunately, not everyone agreed. She could see a few ladies casting derogatory glances at her attire, and while the gentlemen stole glances, they also had a look of mild disdain on their faces.

Truth to be told, Daphne wasn’t too surprised. After all, Cordelia’s fashion choices had always been bold and brazen. Daphne had come to realize, after much interaction with Cordelia, that the people of Nedour dressed in much more revealing clothing. They were comfortable with their skin and weren’t afraid of showing.

Not everyone agreed, of course. The most unhappy of all was Duke Ferguson, who pulled himself to his full height. That made him barely a forehead taller than Cordelia.

"You’re dressing like a harlot!" Duke Ferguson claimed, pointing an offending finger at Cordelia. "To think you still have the nerve to reject my dance offer and drench me with your powers. What is the point when you’re dressed so provocatively? Clearly, you’re seeking male attention! Don’t you think so, Your Majesties?"

"If you are going to insult my friend, it’s best that you leave," Daphne said politely, but there were daggers in her eyes as she glared at Duke Ferguson.

"Huh?" Ferguson’s mouth fell open in shock and his head swiveled in between the two ladies. "Are you truly friends? I thought Princess Drusilla was simply pulling my leg!"

"That explains a lot. Princess Drusilla doesn’t have any sense of humor to begin with," Cordelia retorted tartly, and Duke Ferguson purpled at the insult.

"How dare you insult Reaweth’s princess! Princess Daphne, are you going to stand by and watch this... this... whore insult your sister?"

"It’s Queen Daphne to you." Daphne seethed as she stepped forward. "And in case it hasn’t clicked in that pea-sized brain of yours, you are currently insulting the princess of Nedour. I do not take kindly to my friends being labeled as whores. Apologize to Princess Cordelia this instant, and I’ll bid you a dignified goodbye."

"And if I don’t?" Duke Ferguson asked tauntingly.

"Then I’ll force you to kneel in apology to her and then haul you outside for the wolves to feast on," Daphne said icily with narrowed eyes. "Either that or you can return to Reaweth and wait for Nedour’s declaration of war. Good luck explaining to my father how an allied kingdom suddenly turned hostile. The choice is yours."

Duke Ferguson felt a chill run down his spine at Princess― no, Queen Daphne’s words. But he refused to be intimidated by this slip of a lady. After all, she had always been meek, weak-willed, and powerless back in Reaweth, and he doubted marriage would have changed her much.

From the stories Princess Drusilla told everyone back home, Princess Daphne was still as incompetent as before. Sure, when he arrived in Vramid he had heard the new rumors that Queen Daphne was a dragon tyrant, but that was clearly nonsense.

She must have simply used Atticus to do her dirty work! Either that, or she hoodwinked some other man with those fox eyes of hers. Duke Ferguson wasn’t going to be intimidated by her!

"I will not kneel to a woman that dresses so provocatively that she makes whores look like nuns," Duke Ferguson said arrogantly.

Before Daphne could even decide to set this impertinent man on fire, Princess Cordelia kicked him straight in his crotch, causing him to fall to his knees with a pained wheeze, his face planted on the cold wet marble floor.

"Oh look, now you have," Cordelia said smugly.

"You did that on purpose!" Duke Ferguson screeched.

"Maybe I just wanted to show off a bit of leg." Cordelia shrugged. "I’ll consider it as doing charity since you clearly haven’t seen any part of a woman before. More importantly... If you want to accuse anyone of being a whore, please start closer to home. Princess Drusilla for a start, has already been proven to have lost her innocence."

Daphne laughed and clapped her hands. Oh, she had missed Cordelia.

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