Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 226: An Unexpected Invitation II

Chapter 226: An Unexpected Invitation II

"His Majesty said that he would like to meet his new son-in-law," Duke Ferguson explained. "After all, his daughter had been gone from Reaweth for far too long and it’s perfectly normal for a father to wish to meet his daughter’s partner."

"With all due respect, Duke Ferguson," Atticus started to say, "King Cyrus had not expressed any concern for my wife ever since she married into Vramid. Why now, when the place my wife least needs to be is Reaweth?"

"His Majesty simply misses his blood and flesh," Duke Ferguson replied.

Although, Daphne did not miss the way the duke’s lips wobbled with uncertainty. There was only so much a person could lie before their mask slips and Duke Ferguson was not skilled in lying. After all, it was Drusilla who was the consummate lawyer.

"Does he truly miss her?" Atticus asked, his tone even despite the fire that raged in his eyes. "Especially when he’s beckoning her home now that a criminal is in Reaweth? A criminal that is specifically after Daphne? Forgive me for doubting his intentions."

"Perhaps the king could protect his daughter best under his grounds and his command," Duke Ferguson said. "Why would any father wish harm upon his own flesh and blood?"

"So which is it, then?" Daphne butted in. "Does my father miss me or he simply wants to see King Atticus with his very own eyes?"

"Princess―"

"Queen," Daphne corrected, not giving Duke Ferguson a chance to speak. "Furthermore, my husband can protect me just fine in our own kingdom. There is no need for us to travel all the way there to make superficial greetings and acknowledgments when my father never intended to do so when I was still living in the royal palace. You can tell my father that―"

"That we will arrive at Reaweth when we have made the preparations," Atticus smoothly replied in Daphne’s place, cutting her off before she could give her final answer.

She whipped around and stared at her husband disbelievingly, jaw hanging agape.

"Atticus?"

"Who are we but mere sons and daughters," Atticus continued to say.

Where Duke Ferguson’s eyes cannot see, Atticus ran his hand up and down Daphne’s back, stroking her gently. She huffed, not saying another word. Daphne knew that Atticus must have his own reasons for agreeing to this ludicrous invitation. She could always question what sort of idea he had later on in private. Hopefully, he had used his brain this time round; if this was a repeat of the bet with Francessa Seibert, she would wring his neck!

Atticus continued, "Of course, we should pay our respects to our elders. Although, please let King Cyrus know that we will only arrive a few days after you’ve reached home. It is our wedding night, after all, and I would like to have my wife all to myself during our honeymoon. Call me selfish but I am not keen on sharing, even if it’s with family."

Duke Ferguson looked like a whole lemon had just been shoved down his throat. His lips were pursed and his face turned green, but that did not stop Atticus. If anything, it only seemed to egg him on even further.

"I am sure King Cyrus would understand, seeing how he has two wives and has been through two weddings himself," Atticus said, a sly grin slipping on his face.

Daphne tried not to chortle out loud but it was barely contained. She ended up snorting ungracefully before hurriedly sniffling to mask the awkward sound.

"Atticus, dearest," she said, tugging at her husband’s sleeve. She lowered her voice but made sure to still keep her words perfectly loud enough for Duke Ferguson to catch. "My father only had one wedding."

"Only one?" Atticus asked, astounded. Yet, even a blind man could tell that it was all pretense. "Isn’t he also married to Princess Drusilla’s mother?"

"He is," Daphne said. "But don’t be silly, Atticus. In Reaweth, concubines do not deserve weddings. They are viewed as a third party in a holy matrimony witnessed by God." Her eyes turned to Duke Ferguson, watching his face change colors like a chameleon trying to camouflage. "Likewise, the sons and daughters of a concubine will never be on the same level as that of the first wife."

"Princess―"

"Queen," Daphne sharply corrected. Her gaze darkened ominously, all hints of humor disappearing from her expression. "And don’t let me correct you one more time, Duke Ferguson. Don’t forget― my father has no jurisdiction here in Vramid. Whatever happens to you here, no one can save you. Not your darling little Princess Drusilla, not my brother the crown prince of Reaweth, and not even my father."

She took a step forward, tapping the end of her metal fan against Duke Ferguson’s cheek. It was a delicate little trinket crafted from steel, every bit as deadly as it was beautiful. Of course, it was a gift, courtesy of her lovely husband.

"For every second you are here in Vramid, your life is in my hands," Daphne reminded.

Duke Ferguson shivered in fright. It had been months since he had last seen this wild, unloved princess. The Princess Daphne of his memory was timid, reserved, and insecure. She was always on the edge, afraid of her name getting dragged through the mud even further.

However, even the shadow of that girl was gone. In her place stood a woman who was born from her ashes, filled with the royal fire of Reaweth burning behind her eyes, poison tinting her words. It was peculiar and petrifying― Duke Ferguson had only felt this fear when he spoke with the king and queen of Reaweth. Not even Prince Alistair had this deadly aura surrounding him.

As if just to prove his thoughts true, Duke Ferguson suddenly jumped in his skin, jolting away. His cheek felt like it burned just for a split second. He could even smell the scent of scorched flesh, causing him to place his hand over his cheek in alarm.

When his fingers made contact with the skin on his cheek, he hissed in pain. There was a new wound right where Queen Daphne’s fan rested on his skin. Now that he looked a little more carefully, he could see the tip of her fan smoking a little before she flipped it open, fanning herself.

He had heard rumors on the street but he didn’t dare dream it possible. Did the useless princess finally ignite her spark?

"Enjoy the festivities, Duke Ferguson," Atticus said. He calmly placed a hand around Daphne’s waist, pulling her close. "But do remember not to inconvenience our other guests. If not, we might have to put in some... precautionary measures."

"Of course, Your Majesties," Duke Ferguson said, bowing his head low. He didn’t dare raise his sight until he was sure the royal couple had already walked away.

Once they did, he quickly bolted upright and dashed straight out of the ballroom. There was no time to waste. He needed to rush back to Reaweth this instant to let them know that King Atticus had accepted the invitation to visit Reaweth.

That and the fact that Queen Daphne was now on par with the rest of her siblings. Maybe even more powerful than any of them.