Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 43: Ticket Out

Chapter 43: Ticket Out

How familiar.

It seemed like just last night, Atticus was, too, sitting on the bed, his hair a soaked mess and his clothes clung onto him like they were a second skin. Only this time, he was splashed right in the face instead of over his head and there was no fair damsel he had to protect for she was the one to attack.

Atticus had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent the milk from running into his eyes. Slowly, he raised a hand and swiped the liquid away. The second he opened them, he was met with Daphne’s unwavering gaze and the sight of her hand poised in the air, grasping the glass where the milk had been.

He all but groaned. "Is that really necessary, sunshine?"

"It is if you keep asking stupid questions," Daphne quipped back, her eyes still frosty. But she couldn’t deny that it made her feel just a little bit better to see him looking like a soaked cat. "Now keep quiet and eat your food."

"But my arms are too tired..." Atticus sagged into his pillows and sighed, looking every inch the sick and weary king that Daphne knew he was anything but. "How about you feed me?"

"Feed you?" Daphne repeated disbelievingly. Her lower eyelid twitched.

"Queen Daphne please put down the fork, it’s dangerous," Maisie whispered hurriedly. Daphne hadn’t even realized that she now had a death grip on her cutlery, holding it as if she was about to butcher a boar.

On the other hand, Jonah smacked his hand against his face.

"Your Majesty, please," Jonah exasperatedly said, "you can feed yourself."

’Please feed yourself,’ he mentally communicated with his eyes. If he didn’t, he would never eat again. And Jonah would bet his entire life that the queen would most definitely never agree to feed him, even if he pulled the ’I am sick’ trick again.

She didn’t seem like she was about to be fooled by him a second time so soon.

"And sit up straight," he added again. "You’re getting milk all over your pillows! Gross! Don’t forget that you’re still a king."

Atticus scoffed. "You say like our pillows have not endured worse."

"Just because they have," Jonah scolded through gritted teeth, "doesn’t mean you should subject them to more torture."

"They are doing their job," Atticus said. "It is something they have been bought to do."

It was quite clear that their words held hidden meanings now, something Atticus did not fail to pick up. He squinted his eyes, glaring sharply.

A switch went off in Jonah’s head. He might just be a knight loyal to the crown but he was, first and foremost, loyal to his friend. Yet, his best friend was acting like a spiteful, bratty child and Jonah took it upon himself as the king’s closest confidant to set him back on the right path.

"Just because they are employees does not make them slaves," Jonah quipped back.

"Are we still talking about the pillows?"

"It doesn’t matter," Jonah said. "This applies to both furniture and staff. And people are not replaceable like cotton and silk sheets are."

Daphne watched as Atticus and Jonah went back and forth. Her patience ticked like a clock. Every second was another bit diminished into nothing but mist. Eventually, it had reached the bottom of the well and she had long lost her appetite for breakfast.

She stood up hastily, startling the two men who were previously engrossed in their mini-argument.

"If you’re not planning to eat your breakfast like normal civilized people, then please pardon me. I have other things to do to better make use of my time than sit around and watch two grown men argue like boys."

"Sunshine, wait― I didn’t mean―" Atticus called out, but it was too late. Daphne shot him one last scathing glare before turning around. Atticus could only see the whirl of her skirts as she stormed off in a huff, Maisie frantically trailing after her like a startled puppy.

"That could have gone a lot better. I don’t see why she was so angry though. Did the milk offend her?" Atticus mused.

Jonah rolled his eyes. "The problem is between the milk jar and the bed."

Namely Atticus.

"Really, though, Atticus," Jonah said with a sigh. "Her Highness will get tired of you much sooner than you would like if you intend to keep lying to her. Whatever good karma you’ve managed to gather on her side will be wiped clean soon if you keep this up."

Atticus shook his head in denial. He didn’t recall doing anything to piss off his wife. In fact, women ― that were not Sirona ― would never usually get mad at him.

Perhaps she just woke up at the wrong side of the bed. Atticus was confident that everything would go along smoothly. Jonah was just thinking too much.

"Maybe she’ll feel better by lunchtime?" Atticus asked hopefully. "Do you think she’ll fancy having lunch with me?"

Jonah could only sigh.

***

Meanwhile, Daphne had stomped around the castle in a bid to walk off her anger. She had sent Maisie off to do other chores, preferring to be alone to stew in her feelings. Maisie was disappointed and upset that Daphne and Atticus weren’t getting along, which then upset Daphne greatly. The other servants took her cue, and they avoided her eyes as she paced around the palace grounds.

Finally, some peace and quiet so she could focus on what an annoying, infuriating, immature, lying, manipulative man her husband was! Her feet were getting tired, but when she thought about him, she felt that she could run around the palace purely fueled by her anger.

"A penny for your thoughts, Your Highness?" a male voice asked. It sounded like the speaker was right behind her, and Daphne turned around, ready to give an impertinent servant an earful about not respecting her space.

Couldn’t people tell she didn’t want to be bothered?

"Leave me alone! All of you are so― Oh! It’s you!" Daphne flushed when she realized who she was speaking to.

The person was no mere servant. Instead, Viscount Eugene Attonson stood before her with an apologetic expression, his hands raised in a conciliatory manner. He took several steps back and bowed.

"I’m sorry for startling you, Your Highness," Viscount Eugene said. "I couldn’t help but call out to you, seeing that you seemed so intent on flattening the cobblestones with your feet."

"I accept your apology," Daphne said warily. "What are you doing here?"

"I have errands to run in town, so I thought I might pay our King a visit. I’ve been hearing rumors that the King was poisoned." Viscount Attonson shot her a look. "Seeing that I’m the most probable suspect, I’m intent on clearing my name."

Daphne flushed further as she recalled the accusations she had thrown at him during the ball. It was unfair of her to simply assign blame to him.

And then it turned out that Atticus faked his illness anyway. Viscount Attonson was a more honest man than her husband.

"You don’t have to worry about that," Daphne said primly. She bowed slightly, an unspoken apology. "My husband is in perfect health. He just likes to indulge in dramatics."

Viscount Attonson raised an eyebrow. "I’ll take your word for it then. But if you’re so intent on walking around, how about visiting the town square with me?"

"Excuse me?"

Viscount Attonson shifted slightly, a hand rubbing against the back of his neck. "I mean you no harm, Your Highness. I fear that we have gotten on the wrong foot, and I wish to make amends. According to my mother, visiting stalls and auction houses is an effective way to win favor among women."

A coy smile unknowingly curved her lips. "Did your mother not tell you to only use that trick with single women?"

"No," he sheepishly replied. "She only said to use it on beautiful ones."

Daphne hurriedly stifled a laugh though her cheeks still betrayed her by flushing red. His mother must love buying goods. Come to think of it, she had never been to an actual auction house before.

"I didn’t know that Vramid had auction houses. What do they sell?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, this and that. I’ll tell you a secret, Your Highness," he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. "It’s not about what the object actually is. It’s about how you sell it."

Daphne’s heart raced. She wanted to know more. Everything beyond the walls of a castle felt wondrous to her.

"Do you want to see for yourself? I could bring you there. Unless of course, you’re still suspicious of my motives." Viscount Attonson moved away, with a slightly resigned smile. "I know my reputation precedes me."

She paused.

Normally she wouldn’t leave the palace without Atticus, but she was angry with the man. Atticus had pretended to be poisoned, indirectly hurting Viscount Attonson’s reputation by making Daphne believe in the worst of him.

What’s more, Viscount Attonson was gracious enough to accept her non-apology for a very grievous accusation!

Her mind was made up.

"I’ll go with you. When do we leave, Viscount?"

"Perfect." He smiled beautifully, a confident smile lighting up his face. "And please, call me Eugene."

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.