Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 529: A Driftwood Bet

Chapter 529: A Driftwood Bet

Daphne racked her mind for something she could demand Atticus to do. Muck out the stables? Cook a meal? Leap off a roof? With the world’s magic at his fingertips, nothing seemed too difficult for her husband to accomplish― except for supporting a potential marriage between Jonah and Cordelia.

"Cat got your tongue, Daphne?" Atticus prompted wickedly, as he watched the gears turn in her head. He couldn’t wait to see what she would want him to do.

Hopefully, it’ll be something that could strengthen their relationship. It was highly unlikely, but Atticus held out hope that she would want bedroom favors from him. If she wanted to tie him up and step on him, he would gladly oblige.

For Daphne, he would be willing to become a doormat!

"Shush, I’m still thinking," Daphne muttered, biting her lip, completely oblivious to the depraved thoughts that were rattling around in his head.

"I could get on all fours and bark like a dog! Just for you, I’ll even add howling and whimpering for free," Atticus added, just so he could see Daphne flush and panic at his words. She quickly glanced around surreptitiously; thankfully, no servants were in earshot.

"No! Why would I want you to do that?!" Daphne exclaimed, smacking him on the arm, her face coloring at the potential embarrassment of witnessing such an act. Her husband, the ruthless king, barking like a dog... Everyone would assume he had taken leave of his senses.

"I can meow if you like cats more. I draw the line at screeching though. I don’t want to sound like that chicken," Atticus said.

Back in Vramid, Zephyr let out a sneeze.

"No. No animal impersonations," Daphne stressed firmly. "If I win, you’ll... you’ll have to do whatever I want!"

There. Then she would have more time to decide what she wanted from Atticus.

"How is that any different from now?" Atticus groused quietly under his breath, but not quietly enough. The wind carried his voice to Daphne’s ears.

This time, Daphne’s face colored for another reason.

"If you don’t want―"

"It’s fine," Atticus said, "I accept the terms of this wager, but on one condition."

"What is it?"

"That the same terms apply to you."

Daphne’s heart raced as she registered the implications. She had effectively given Atticus a blank slate to scribble as he liked. Hopefully, he would not draw a damning picture for her.

"If I win, you’ll have to do whatever I ask."

"Fair enough," Daphne agreed after a moment’s thought. She trusted that Atticus wouldn’t use this to make a fool out of her, on the off, completely minuscule chance that he actually won― but just in case, she added a caveat. "Short of animal impersonations, I will do what you ask."

"Then we’ll shake on this," Atticus said smoothly.

"Be prepared to lose, Atticus," Daphne said confidently. She held out her hand, but instead of giving her a brief handshake, Atticus bowed and kissed the back of her outstretched hand.

The touch of his lips on her skin sent her head reeling in surprise and longing. It had been too long since any part of his lips had touched her skin, despite the improvement in their relationship― the kiss only lasted for the briefest of moments, utterly chaste in its execution, yet Daphne felt her heart shudder in her ribcage, desperately trying to claw itself free.

"Atticus!"

This was cheating! How could he use this tactic to throw her into disarray!

Atticus paused, glancing back up at her warily as his heart sank. Did he move too quickly to bridge the gap? It simply felt like the right moment, with the moon hanging high above, and calm waters below.

Was Daphne disgusted with him?

Daphne’s face grew redder, as Atticus gazed up at her with his limpid eyes, framed by the thick curtain of his lashes, his irises reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight.

Atticus wanted to hope that she would reciprocate, but wars weren’t won in a day. Sometimes, retreat was the only way forward.

"I’ll leave you to it then," Atticus decided, reluctantly letting go of Daphne’s hand. "I’ll go and check on our newest pet project."

With that, Atticus turned around and went below deck, deliberately not looking back at his wife. He was going to be respectful and give her space!

Also, he was going to give himself a head start regarding their tiny wager. If things went well, he would have Daphne and Jonah back by his side where they belonged, while Cordelia could rule Nedour with her pauper prince. The world would be at peace.

Meanwhile, Daphne stared gobsmacked at Atticus’s retreating back, her cheeks a ruddy red, as though she had indulged herself in one too many pints of ale that the sailors loved to do. Her hand hung limply in the air after Atticus had let go of it, the last vestiges of his warmth fading in the ocean breeze.

What on earth just happened?

How could Atticus just leave after doing this? Was this another one of his tricks? Did he kiss her hand because he wanted to fluster her?

Or did he do it as a distraction tactic, since he was going to see Nikun.

Daphne picked up her skirts to chase after him. No matter what, she wasn’t going to let him get the upper hand in their wager.

***

Meanwhile, Atticus strolled to the infirmary, only to hear faint laughter floating through the passageway. He walked into the room, only to see Nikun in an old sailor’s outfit, all coarse fabric and tattered square patches, frayed threads escaping from stitches.

However, even the cheapness of the fabric could not dampen the bright shine of his eyes. He seemed to be in good enough spirits, for he was gesturing a lot with his hands as the healers laughed at whatever he was saying.

Good. If he was a charmer, that would help his chances.

"And then I told them that I would never trade a cow for five beans― King Atticus!" Nikun exclaimed. He immediately got up, but Atticus waved at him to sit down, before gesturing for the healers to leave the room.

"I see you’re feeling better," Atticus noted when they were alone.

"Yes, and it’s all thanks to you and Queen Daphne, King Atticus," Nikun replied politely, but his eyes darted to the door, as though he wanted to make a run for it.

Atticus snorted. This fake prince was simply delusional if he thought he could flee from him. With how small the infirmary was, Atticus could simply trip him on the way out without using magic.

But stupidity was not attractive to Princess Cordelia. He’d better wisen up on the way there.

"Might I know the purpose of your visit?" Nikun asked, sweating nervously, when Atticus continued to glower at him in silence. "I mean no offense to you or your wife. Thank you for your kindness, I’ll do my best to repay you! I’ll get out of your hair the moment we land! Or I could even leave tomorrow if you have a rowboat! I am well enough to row myself to shore―"

With every word from his mouth, Atticus saw the chances of his victory drifting further and further away, just like the piece of driftwood they had found Nikun on.

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