Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 317: Strange Wife II

Chapter 317: Strange Wife II

"Stop acting so suspiciously," Atticus scolded, groaning as Jonah looked back and forth between him and Daphne repeatedly.

"How can I not?!" Jonah all but yelled, his voice not very loud but still equally as urgent and frantic. "No matter how I look at it, that’s definitely Daphne right there. And you claim that it’s not her?"

"That’s not my wife," Atticus said firmly. "I would know the woman who shares my bed every night, wouldn’t I?"

"Just because she changed a dress?" Jonah asked incredulously. "I mean, you can’t fault a girl for enjoying fashion, can you? It’s not as though you can’t afford a few additional seamstresses to come up with a whole new wardrobe for her..."

"The ring on her finger," Atticus said. "It’s a dupe. That’s not the Symphony."

"Maybe she’s worried about losing the ring in such a hectic event?" Jonah suggested.

"I would’ve thought that would be the case but there is just something off about this ’Daphne’." Atticus sighed. "Her hands..." He looked down at his palm, flexing and curling his fingers repeatedly over and over again. "They felt... odd. It’s not the same."

Jonah scratched the back of his neck.

"I don’t know... Maybe you’re just tired, Atticus. After all, you’ve been busying back and forth for quite a few days and―"

"Where’s Sirona?" Atticus asked, cutting him off.

"Back in the study," Jonah said. "She’s with Prince Nathaniel. They’re working on― Wait, what are you doing?"

Jonah reached out and grabbed onto Atticus’s shoulder before he could even take two steps away.

"Sirona would know," Atticus said.

"You can’t leave now!"

"Why not?"

"Because!" Jonah sighed, exasperated. "Even if what you claim is true, you can’t just leave after telling her you’re coming over to get refreshments. If it’s as you said and the woman there isn’t actually Daphne, it would mean that she came over with a hidden intention. If you ran away just like that, wouldn’t you basically be revealing the fact that you’ve figured out she’s a fake?"

"Frankly, Jonah, I can’t care less if she knows," Atticus admitted. "She isn’t wearing Daphne’s dress, which would mean that she hasn’t seen Daphne since she left to look for Nereus. This also means that Daphne is safe and wouldn’t be in immediate danger even if this counterfeit realizes I noticed she isn’t the real Daphne."

Atticus ran a hand through his hair, tousling the strands.

"I need to go look for my wife."

He was prepared to shrug Jonah’s hand off again and head out when Atticus paused. With a frown, he cast a dubious look towards the fake, watching the way she effortlessly and gracefully interacted with the well-wishers.

"What is it now?" Jonah asked.

He was already feeling an oncoming migraine. He had expected that something might happen during Daphne’s coronation — after all, it wouldn’t be too surprising, considering her siblings’ track record — but he hadn’t expected someone would straight up impersonate the crown princess.

Not only that, the idiot actually approached her tyrant king of a husband! What a foolish move.

"Alistair is still missing," Atticus noted.

"Unsurprising," Jonah said with a shrug. "He doesn’t particularly like his sister, after all. Not to mention the fact that her title as the crown princess of Reaweth used to be his. Though truth to be told, he is pretty whiny. Practically like a pissy princess."

"Hazelle also isn’t present," Atticus continued. "Along with Drusilla."

Jonah’s eyes widened a small fraction. "Do you think...?"

"Yes." Atticus nodded firmly. "The book did mention a method for changing appearances. It uses kelpie blood in the recipe."

"And Daphne left to look for that kelpie friend of hers..." Jonah squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled slowly. "I shouldn’t have doubted you."

"Of course not," Atticus said with a grin. "Since when have I ever been wrong?"

"Plenty of times," Jonah said with a deadpan. "It’s unlikely Alistair will send his wife. I doubt a man as prideful as he would be willing to cuck himself."

"Drusilla then," Atticus concluded.

Jonah nodded. "She does seem quite fond of pink."

"Looks better on Daphne," Atticus murmured under his breath. He ignored the dead-eyed stare Jonah tossed him. Instead, he smoothly picked up two freshly poured glasses of wine. "I wonder how well she handles her liquor."

"If the replacement is actually Drusilla, wouldn’t she be particularly mindful about random glasses of alcohol now?" Jonah pointed out.

"She would," Atticus said. "But she doesn’t know yet that I’ve already seen through her act. She wouldn’t put up defenses against me."

"I’ll look for Daphne, in that case," Jonah said. "She said that she’ll be at the lake, is that it?"

"She was looking for that damned seahorse," Atticus grumbled. "I knew I shouldn’t have let her go alone. That useless chicken wouldn’t be of much help."

"That poor thing is still a griffin, for crying out loud!" Jonah lamented. "If anything, he’ll be useful against fire, judging by how he could take on even a dragon’s breath. A one-handed Alistair shouldn’t be much of a threat."

"Don’t put your guard down," Atticus warned. "Corner a dog in a dead-end street and it will turn and bite."

"Same goes for you."

Atticus nodded before he set off, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders before confidently sauntering back to where ’Daphne’ was. She stood amongst the crowd, a dainty and delicate smile on her face as she conversed with the guests of this evening.

He had to give it to her― she was an amazing actress. As Atticus observed the way she interacted with everyone and how she carried herself, he almost felt doubt for a moment, wondering if he had made a wrong judgment.

However, the moment his hand rested on the small of her back to pull her close and they touched, he knew that his gut feeling was right. Atticus couldn’t find a way to explain it but there was no connection there between them.

"You’re back," she said, smiling gently. The people who were conversing with her politely bade farewell before returning to the party, allowing the couple some space to talk alone.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Daphne," Atticus said.

He held out the glass of wine, watching as the woman’s eyes flickered to the drink. Shock briefly flashed through her eyes, followed by obvious hesitance before she slowly took hold of the wine.

"I thought you were going to get some water," she said, nervously laughing. Even though she masked it well, Atticus could still sense her awkwardness. "I don’t really feel like drinking."

"We should be celebrating, should we not?" Atticus said. "Besides," he lowered his voice, "alcohol helps to calm the nerves. Wouldn’t you want to be geared up for our after-party activities?"

Paired with a seductive grin and his low voice, it didn’t take long before a faint blush crept onto the apples of her cheeks. She flushed scarlet, turning away bashfully before gently tapping Atticus’s arm, her mind no doubt filled with too many scandalous thoughts.

"Such a smooth talker," she muttered before she downed the wine.

Atticus watched as her glass emptied out within seconds.

"Of course," he said. She did not notice the way his gaze darkened. "As always."