Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 546: Oddly Skilled

Chapter 546: Oddly Skilled

Atticus raised an eyebrow, eager to hear what Nikun might say to defend his case as well. After all, when he and Daphne had fished him out of the rough seas, he seemed like nothing more than a duckling that had lost its mom.

Ever since then, Nikun was as helpless as he was useless, and while Atticus had hoped that he would somehow triumph over the other contestants — and Jonah — as Cordelia’s spouse candidate, Atticus was far too clear on how far Nikun lagged behind. He had more brain smarts than physical prowess, but now, it seemed like Atticus had made an error when judging his character.

Nikun, who was definitely brighter than every other tool in the box, suddenly dropped his daggers. He chuckled, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck.

"Thank you for the compliment, Your Highness, but you jest," Nikun said with a sheepish smile. Instantly, his expression softened, and he lost the hard edge that was gained in the midst of battle. "It was mere luck."

Reaching down, he held out a hand to Mikhail.

"Here, let me help―"

"Don’t play the fool," Mikhail suddenly snapped, slapping Nikun’s hand away. He rose to his feet himself and without help and glared hotly at Nikun. His fists were still clenched together tightly, his nails digging harshly into the palm of his hand as he gestured at Nikun. "That is not the skillset of an amateur."

As Nikun shook his head and looked back and forth in search of help, Mikhail walked over to where his staff now lay on the ground, picking it back up.

"Is he planning to strike Nikun down with the judgment of heaven?" Atticus whispered under his breath, to which Daphne replied with a light slap to his upper arm.

"I have witnessed plenty of battles among men," Mikhail said, his voice low and frosty. "What you’ve displayed is not luck either."

"Indeed," Cordelia said, raising an eyebrow. She shared a glance with Jonah, and a look of understanding passed between them.

Atticus, who had caught sight of the exchange, felt his eyelid twitch.

She continued, "Fret not. I am by no means condemning you of your skills, Prince Nikun. I am merely in awe of what you’ve displayed. Perhaps you could even tuition some of Nedour’s men, after witnessing their pathetic performance."

Gesturing to the participants who had both finished their rounds and who were still waiting for their turn, Cordelia smiled. There was nothing but amusement in her eyes― all her emotions were cleverly hidden, her thoughts even more so.

"A victory is a victory. I shall not put you in the spot any longer," she said. "Next―!"

As Cordelia listed the names of the next contestants who would take the stage, Atticus frowned and leaned down to Daphne. His eyes remained on Nikun, careful not to stare for too long at any given time. Hidden from view, his fingers wriggled, and a thin, nearly invisible veil encased husband and wife, preventing their words from being heard by even the sharpest of ears.

"Isn’t your best friend a little too relaxed about this," Atticus asked. "It’s like she hasn’t even suspected a single thing."

Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "And that is why you know nothing about Cordelia," she said. "There’s no need to rush through things. It will simply alert the enemy prematurely. Besides..."

Daphne nodded her chin in Jonah’s direction, who had already sneakily snuck out of the tournament grounds.

"It seems like she has already passed down her instructions to your best friend to handle this."

Atticus twitched as he saw Jonah obeying Cordelia’s wordless orders. He did not like how their minds seemed to function on the same wavelength; it felt all too intimate for his tastes― especially when Cordelia had outright used Jonah before to undo her engagement.

He had only left them alone for a few months! How could they have built such a strong connection?

"Smile, you look like you’re constipated," Daphne chided gently, looping an arm around his own, as she pressed a gentle finger to his cheek, the very picture of a playful devoted wife. Instinctively, his lips followed her touch, curving into a small smile.

Atticus turned towards her, preparing to whine and complain further so that Daphne could cajole him, but he slowly felt his irritation bleed away as he gazed into her beautiful eyes.

Oh, it would have been all too easy to lean in to kiss her. Instead, he merely shifted enough so that his lips brushed against the soft pads of her fingers, and was duly rewarded with a rosy blush that bloomed on her cheeks.

"Atticus!" Daphne squeaked, pulling away her hand as though he had burned her.

"It was an accident," Atticus said glibly, knowing full well it wasn’t.

Judging by the way Daphne’s cheeks puffed up in indignation, she knew full well that he was lying, but she wasn’t pushing him away. Far from it, Daphne was subconsciously leaning closer toward him; it seemed like she was willing to play this little game of theirs.

Atticus’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, suddenly breathless. He reached out an arm around Daphne’s waist, and Daphne sucked in a deep breath.

But she did not move away. Instead, her hands gingerly went to his shoulders, as if she wanted to pull Atticus closer to her.

But before Atticus could fulfill his wife’s unspoken wishes, he heard someone clearing their throat with deliberate loudness.

The mood was broken; Daphne jumped, startled, nearly causing their heads to crash together.

Gnashing his teeth, he turned around ready to give the interloper a piece of his mind, only to be met with the highly unimpressed gaze of their host.

Princess Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "My apologies for disturbing... whatever is going on here, but I thought you might like to know that the second task is over."

Atticus hoped that a meteorite would fall on Cordelia. Not a very big one that would cause death and severe injury — because that would upset Daphne — but perhaps one the size of bird poo would suffice as a suitable retaliation for her interruption.

"What? So quickly?" Daphne squeaked in embarrassment, whirling around in surprise. True enough, servants were now clearing the racks of weapons away from the courtyard, while some of the successful contestants lingered around chatting with each other.

"What can I say? I have some very skilled contestants in my pool of suitors. Maybe some of them can be promoted to my personal guard in the future."

"You’re leaving Jonah jobless already?" Atticus demanded, before smiling placidly. "But of course you should, since he deserves better to be slaving for you as a guard."

Princess Cordelia, the wicked witch that she was, only smirked at him.

"So you do agree Jonah deserves a higher position by my side?"

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