Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 429: Similar Goals I

Chapter 429: Similar Goals I

Weeks and months passed as Atticus continued to make nightly trips to the mine along with Jonah and King Calarian.

By now, he knew the route like the back of his hand and he didn’t need King Calarian to accompany him like a father following his son to school. But the older king still insisted, claiming that he was technically responsible for them. If something had happened to Atticus in his kingdom, it might cause a diplomatic incident.

Or King Calarian was afraid that Atticus might rob his mines dry. Atticus only wished he had such capabilities. His mining adventures were mind-numbingly boring. There were no mysterious explosions, but at least his camel had decided to finally stop spitting in his face. Instead, it merely gave Atticus the stink eye every time he approached it.

Small mercies. The only bright spot in his life was seeing Daphne’s belly slowly, but surely, swell with new life as she approached the end of her first trimester.

"Daphne, you’re doing so well," Atticus praised as he held up her hair while she retched out the contents of her breakfast into the privy. "I’m very proud of you. Sirona and Queen Lavinia both say morning sickness is a sign that the child is thriving."

"Oh, piss off," Daphne groaned weakly after she rinsed her mouth clean.

If there was any doubt that she was pregnant with Atticus’s child, it was long gone by the second week straight she spent retching into the privy. Queen Lavinia’s own morning sickness wasn’t that bad; Jonah theorized that it was because Atticus being annoying was hereditary.

"You only know how to spew empty words. I wish you were the one pregnant instead," Daphne grumbled bitterly.

Atticus swallowed the glib comment that nearly emerged from his throat. As the pregnancy progressed, so did Daphne’s moodiness. She was liable to bite Atticus’s head for not only the words he said but also for the words he did not say. Atticus never needed diplomacy so badly until this moment.

"If it were possible, I would gladly take this burden on myself," Atticus said impassionately, even as he was notoriously glad that it was impossible for men to give birth.

"Lies, you’re saying this because it is entirely impossible," Daphne said, calling out his falsehood for what it was. She pulled herself up and slumped back on their bed.

"So... are you up for lunch?" Atticus asked hesitantly. "You should eat something to make up for the food you threw up."

Daphne’s expression could have curdled milk.

"I guess not," Atticus said meekly. "I could... massage your shoulders if it makes you feel better?"

Thankfully, that suggestion was met with more enthusiasm. Daphne leaned into his touch and allowed Atticus to rub at the sore spots on her body, getting the tight knots and kinks out of her muscles as she sighed in contentment.

Most of their days were spent in such ways― Atticus returning late at night, them heading for breakfast before Daphne retches it all out, and then spending some time together before Atticus eventually falls asleep.

To his credit, he did try to stay awake but it was getting more and more difficult with his sleep debt slowly catching up to him. And just like some other days, Daphne soon realized that Atticus had fallen asleep with her leaning against him.

Huffing, Daphne crawled off him and gently pulled the blankets over Atticus’s sleeping body. She hadn’t been able to spend much time with her husband since they were living on two entirely different timetables now but she did appreciate that he spent whatever free time he had with her and not his two friends. During this period of time, she needed all the support she could get.

Slowly, Daphne shut the door as she left the room, careful not to make too much of a din. Her feet padded against the marble floors as she turned the corners, eventually finding Nereus and Zephyr’s rooms.

"Zephyr, you there?" Daphne called out, knocking on the door. "I got the letter."

The door clicked open and Daphne caught sight of a flash of white. Nereus had opened just a small fraction of the door, peeping out to see who it was. Once he was sure it was Daphne, he opened the door a little more to let her in before locking immediately after she was through.

"Prince Nathaniel sent word," Nereus said once Daphne was inside. "He managed to analyze the information that could be found in The History of Magic, as well as the news we’ve received thus far on what we’ve learned Jean Nott was doing."

Daphne’s heart felt like it had stopped for a couple of seconds.

"Prince Nathaniel mentioned a possible ritual Jean Nott might be attempting," Nereus continued. "We believe that it might be linked to what King Atticus is working towards as well."

"Atticus is not in cahoots with Jean Nott, is he?" Daphne asked as she took the notes from Nereus’s hands, quickly scanning through the letter Prince Nathaniel sent. "Where’s Zephyr?"

"Asleep," Nereus answered. He gestured over to a nearby fainting couch where Zephyr lay, his wings curled up around him. "I was told that he didn’t make too many pit stops on his journey to and fro. He had to be quick so that no one would suspect anything."

While their primary goal had been to find out what Atticus was up to, Prince Nathaniel received word that there were a couple of things Jean Nott had been looking for throughout the black market. As such, Nathaniel thought that it was strange the Vramidian king required the same things Jean Nott did and that they might have similar goals, if not the same.

As ironic as it was, it was much easier to crack the case from Jean Nott’s end than Atticus’s― the latter was sealed tight and brought all of his notes and important members with him to Xahan. At least Jean Nott had some loose ends back in his old lair where Drusilla’s body was found. Those proved useful.

"What is Jean Nott up to, then?" Daphne asked.

"Prince Nathaniel believes that he might be attempting to create magic," Nereus answered.

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