Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 572: My King

Chapter 572: My King

Jonah’s heart stopped in his chest when his eyes laid upon Cordelia. She was sprawled across her bed, her long tanned legs on full display as she idly flipped through the reports. Her skirt had ridden up, and because of that, it left very little for the imagination.

Even though Jonah had slowly gotten used to the extreme fashion choices of Nedour’s women, this was the first time he had seen anything of this sort. Immediately, his cheeks burned as he averted his gaze, but this action merely caught Cordelia’s attention as she smiled.

"You’re late," she simply said, letting the stack of reports fall neatly on the bedside table’s surface with a light thud.

Slowly and sensually, she stretched her legs off the bed, making sure to make the sheer skirts ride up as she did so. Jonah wasn’t even looking in her direction, but the shuffling sound of the sheets sent blood rushing to his head, causing it to run wild with imagination.

God. This was a horrid form of torture. There was only so much Jonah could do to suppress his innate desires, and now that Atticus had opened his eyes to what he truly felt for Nedour’s crown princess, even being in the same room as her felt as though he was subjected to aphrodisiac.

Jonah cleared his throat.

"We were tidying up the final details," he said. "Lord Waylen’s family were a handful."

"Nothing you couldn’t handle, I am assuming," Cordelia remarked. She made her way over, standing a little too close for comfort.

Their chests were nearly pressed together, and with this height difference, if Jonah looked down, he would have an eyeful of everything he had no right to see. Thus, he had no other choice than to raise his head high, unwilling to meet Cordelia’s eyes.

The scent of her sweet perfume wafted over, mixed with an aroma that was purely her own. It was refreshing― like a gulp of an ice-cold drink in the middle of the summer heat, surrounded by rare blooms.

Jonah’s heart even skipped a beat when Cordelia reached out. The back of her hand grazed his cheek, and Jonah felt all his hair stand to their ends. Even her touch felt as though she was leaving a razing trail, scorching his body slowly and tenderly. Finally, she rested her palm on his chest right over his heart.

A small grin stretched across her face.

"My my, Jonah," she tutted, her lips coiling into a beautiful smirk. "Why is your heart beating so quickly?"

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and he chanced a quick glance into her eyes. Cordelia’s irises were brilliantly blue-green, the color of the summer waves as they crashed upon the shore. And now, they were staring at him fixatedly as though he was the one who hung the stars in the sky― her sky, at least.

Jonah pressed his lips firmly together, refusing to speak. To be fair, he couldn’t muster the strength to reply. If he did, he wasn’t sure what he would say, or if his voice would fail him. At this rate, that was an insanely high chance.

Cordelia, who noticed his reluctance to reply, merely laughed. She had long caught the raging blush on his cheeks, and her eyes had even darted down to examine his reaction. They stood a little too close for what was proper, after all, and small movements like that could easily be caught.

Without warning, Cordelia suddenly pulled away, her skirt fluttering behind her like a set of butterfly wings. Jonah breathed out only when she left, but it wasn’t of relief, but more as though his soul was tugged out of his body via an invisible string, trailing after her.

"I need a king regardless," she suddenly said. "The contest has failed to reap any results."

Taking a deep breath to steady his voice, Jonah said, "We will find one who is suitable to rule by your side, Your Highness."

His words caused Cordelia to sharply turn her head back to face him. Her expression was unreadable, and in the dim lighting of the moon and the flickering candlelight, Cordelia hummed.

"I have already found a suitable candidate."

"Oh." Before he could stop himself, Jonah let slip a sound of disappointment.

He was unable to control the fall of his heart, tumbling in his ribcage as it plummeted to the depths of despair. What little sparks and embers that had risen just earlier today were quickly extinguished, and he felt as though a bucket of cold water had been tossed over his head.

It was cruel― if he had never realized his feelings, perhaps it wouldn’t have been this difficult to deal with.

"You will have an appointment to attend early tomorrow morning," Cordelia suddenly said, and Jonah had to brush the crumbs of his heart away so that he could handle his tasks properly and dutifully.

He couldn’t be by Cordelia’s side as her lover, but it was alright. He would get over it, eventually, either through the sanding of time or with the departure of his life.

"An appointment, Your Highness?" Jonah asked.

"Yes," Cordelia said. "To get your measurements. The royal seamstresses will need to know your size when making your garbs." A smile stretched her lips. "Or when they forge you a crown."

"A... crown?" Jonah echoed with a squawk.

"Of course," Cordelia said.

She shook her head as her feet padded across the floor, closing the distance between them again. Her fingers reached for the lapels of his coat, and with ease, she pulled him along with her backward until her knees hit the side of the bed.

"I said I have already found a suitable candidate, didn’t I?" Cordelia said, clicking her tongue. "Who did you think I was referring to?"

"Nikun?" Jonah instinctively said, which only earned him a roll of Cordelia’s eyes.

"A criminal? Seriously?" Cordelia asked with a raised eyebrow. "You are so emotionally daft for someone so utterly brilliant."

In a flash, she swapped their positions and leaned forward, pushing Jonah down. He toppled onto the bed, and Cordelia swiftly climbed on, hovering over him. The neckline of her dress was pulled down by the force of gravity, and with it, Jonah had an all too clear view of what he had been trying to avoid this entire time in fear of losing his already-crumbling control.

Cordelia, however, refused to allow him the chance to look away. She reached forward and held his cheeks with one hand, forcing him to meet her eye.

"And," she drawled, "didn’t I already tell you to drop the honorifics when we are alone," she grinned, "my king?"

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