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3.28% Stolen by the Rebel King / Chapter 19: Depressing Regularity

Capítulo 19: Depressing Regularity

In the days leading up to the ball, Daphne played her part as the dutiful princess. It wasn't hard to slip back into the skin of her past self, and it helped that somehow, every servant seemed to hold her opinion in high regard.

If Daphne made an off-hand comment about the color of the tablecloths not suiting the ambiance, the tablecloths were changed without question. She didn't even have this much power at home!

Hence she grew very careful about using her words. Instead, she decided to ask Maisie more questions about the ball; who was invited, what food was served, how long would it last, and if she needed to prepare anything special to avoid shaming Atticus.

Maisie was beside herself with happiness, pleased that the princess was taking an interest in her husband's affairs. She eagerly answered all the questions to the best of her ability, all while getting Maisie to prepare a variety of jewelry for her to choose from.

Meanwhile, Daphne plotted her escape with the details she had gathered.

When the big day arrived, Daphne insisted on dressing alone. Maisie was too busy, anyway, and didn't push further when Daphne had shooed her off.

"I'll be back later in the day to help you lace up!" Maisie had said before rushing off, heaps and bounds of fabric in her hands.

The moment Daphne was sure that Maisie was gone, she slipped out of her clothes and into the maid's attire that she had kept hidden all this while. Having worn it once before, it wasn't difficult for Daphne to quickly figure out the odds and ends. She quickly changed, this time, adding a plain scarf to cover up her hair and shield her face.

With the start of the ball soon approaching, the castle help were all busying back and forth, too preoccupied with their tasks at hand to care about a lone maid. To help her blend in, she tried her best to act like Maisie― a basket in hand with bundles of fabric in it.

Huffing and puffing, Daphne was much smarter this time and her journey proceeded much smoother than previously. She easily and quickly located the stables, stealthily heading over to the horse she had picked beforehand.

"Here… here… it's me," Daphne murmured to Sable, feeding her an apple she had saved from earlier.

Sable was the horse she had chosen to accompany her. She was a sweet-tempered mare with a coat darker than midnight, but she had a white stripe running through her forehead. Daphne had adored her from the first time she visited the stables.

The grooms were horrified at the thought of a princess potentially stepping in the muck of the stables, but she waved them off.

When they left, Daphne hurriedly stowed away a tiny bag of jewels under the haystack, along with some clothes she could change into and food that wouldn't go bad quickly. With the cold weather, they stayed in fairly good condition since she had left them there.

Thankfully, Sable didn't eat them either. They would help tide her over a good couple of days if not weeks.

Quickly strapping in all that was needed, Daphne led Sable out of the stables and quickly climbed on. Her actions were fluid enough and she silently thanked the practice she had when she had run off to the fair with Atticus a few days back. That was a good warm-up.

"Let's go, Sable," Daphne quietly said, urging the horse to move.

The horse neighed, following her heed. Yet, it lasted not more than a couple of steps when it suddenly gave a violent shake. Daphne tried to hold on as best as she could, but every couple of steps, Sable would repeat her movements until eventually, Daphne's hand slipped.

She fell off the horse, a silent scream escaping her lips. Surprisingly, the fall wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. However, a mouthful of sand definitely stuck onto her lips.

"Oh, come on." Daphne hissed.

She didn't give up. Again and again, she climbed onto the horse. Again and again, Sable threw her down. Even though the impact of landing didn't hurt, it still wasn't comfortable to land on the same spot every couple of minutes. She had barely even left the castle compound when Daphne was thrown down for the sixth time in a row.

"Now you're just doing it on purpose," Daphne said through gritted teeth, fuming. The horse merely softly neighed in reply, its tail flicking. Even without saying a word, Daphne felt that Sable was mocking her.

The princess took in a deep breath before she placed her hand on the saddle again, taking a moment to breathe before her next attempt in hoisting herself back on. Truthfully, the repeated action of climbing up the horse was starting to get tiring. Her movements had turned sluggish and she wasn't sure how many times more she could repeat this.

Yet, right before she had the chance to pull herself up, she felt her body turn weightless. She was lifted in the air like magic, her limbs moving on their own accord. Daphne's eyes widened with surprise as her legs maneuvered themselves, along with her arms and her body, positioning so that she was now back on the horse in an upright position as if she had never fallen down in the first place.

Daphne's eyes narrowed. She hadn't missed the telltale glimpse of purple that had surrounded her for a brief second before fading away into nothingness.

"Shit."

"Shit indeed," came the familiar voice. "And that refers to what an utterly shitty escape artist you are, sunshine."

Like a predator, Daphne caught sight of Atticus's golden eyes first. They were like two orbs of sunlight, glowing in the dark. Then slowly, the silvery moonlight illuminated his face, slowly showing his features as he leisurely walked out of the shadows.

Daphne's body went rigid. She didn't miss the sight of his lips, curved into a sinister grin.

"Funny thing," Atticus said with a chuckle. "I keep seeing a certain blonde woman attempting to escape via horseback. Yet, the horse she picked didn't seem to be too… persuaded, causing her to fall off with depressing regularity. I wonder why."


Prequel Available!

Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife

Capítulo 20: A Piece of Junk

"Oh, piss off." Daphne scowled. There was no need to be polite to her captor, and besides, the frequent falls have made her testy. That smirk on his face was also nipping at her patience. "Do you have nothing to do all day but torment me?"

"Why would I do anything else?" Atticus retorted. He shrugged. "Your escape attempts are a lot more entertaining than my minister's ideas for the ball. Please, get back on the horse. I'm looking forward to more performances. Up you go, yip yip."

And that infuriating man had the nerve to cross his arms, cocking his head expectantly after talking to her like she was a pet dog.

"Come on, get back on! Sable is waiting!"

Hearing her name, Sable turned to look at him and trotted over. Atticus broke into a handsome smile as he petted the horse, fishing out a slice of carrot from his pocket.

"Awww my dearie, did this clumsy oaf hurt you when you threw her off? Poor baby, your back must be so tired from carrying her."

Sable neighed, as though in agreement.

"Excuse me? I hurt her?" Daphne cried out, giving the horse a betrayed look. "To think I've even fed you apples!"

Sable blinked, the very picture of innocence as she continued to nuzzle Atticus, hopeful for more treats.

"The loyalty of my subjects cannot be bought so easily. Sable is one of my favorite horses, of course she would listen to me over you."

Daphne begrudgingly accepted his point. She had only known Sable for a few days. At least King Atticus had good taste in horses.

"Sunshine, now that I see it, you have two choices. Continue your desperate attempts to escape, or… you can come with me as we try to figure out your latent magical abilities."

Daphne blinked, not believing her ears.

"You… you think I have magic?"

"Sunshine, you're all sorts of magical." Atticus drawled out as he looked at her intently. The look in his eyes was smoldering, with his gaze feeling like it could set fire to her skin wherever it touched, which she didn't know was a good thing or not.

Daphne pursed her lips. It sounded like he was making fun of her.

"I was right next to you when the toy started glowing," Atticus elaborated dryly when he realized his wife wasn't moving an inch. "It had to be magic, or we're both suffering from joint hallucinations. Rare, but not impossible."

"Fine. I get your point," Daphne said as she walked towards him. "How will you test me? I've been tested periodically through the years, but all of them gave the same result."

"Reaweth doesn't have a monopoly on magic," Atticus said, his eyes dark. Somehow, the air around him crackled, as though he was a lightning cloud ready to storm. "Whatever they can do, Vramid can do better."

"That's not true," Daphne said, feeling a need to defend her homeland. "Everyone knows harnessing gems as magical conduits originated from Reaweth. My ancestors were the original mages."

Atticus straight up snorted at her words. "And I'm sure your family farts roses and shits out gold too."

"You!" Daphne pointed an angry finger at him. "Don't be disrespectful!"

"My apologies." Atticus rolled his eyes. "I meant, your family's farts smell fragrant and they can use their shit to pad their treasury, how's that?"

"Urghhh!" Daphne scowled. This man was incorrigible. "Just because you phrased it all prim and proper doesn't mean it's any better!"

Her infuriation seemed to have delighted Atticus, for his lips curved into a smile.

"How did they test you? If you don't mind me asking."

Now it was Daphne's turn to roll her eyes. "You didn't care much for permission all those other times," she grumbled under her breath. Yet, she still answered his question. "I was eight when they made me take the first test. And I failed."

"Details, sunshine. How else am I supposed to help you?"

"I was tested two years earlier than the norm because of my older brother," she continued. "My older brother apparently could manifest fireballs when he was just five. Thus, my parents had high hopes for me."

"Ah, crown prince Alistair of Reaweth." Atticus clicked his tongue. "They continued testing you after, you said?"

Daphne nodded. "I could've been a late bloomer." She shrugged. "But when my sisters were born and one by one, they, too, could use magic, it became obvious that I wasn't going to start blooming anytime soon."

It seemed like everyone in the family was a magical prodigy. Some could light a candle with a flick of their fingers as a toddler, others could conjure butterflies from flames with just a burp or a giggle.

Daphne had never heard of any royalty that couldn't manifest the barest hint of magical ability as an adult― then again, she hadn't mingled with royalty from other kingdoms. No one wanted to speak to the poor, untalented princess who couldn't conjure up a single element.

"And they just gave up on you." It was a sentence, not a question. A dark look flashed across Atticus's face, almost as though he was angry. Though, Daphne wasn't sure why. "And you just let them?"

"It's hard to think anything else when all you've been told in life is that you're a failure," Daphne murmured. She took a deep breath, forcefully peeking up. "But I'm over it. I know now that my magical abilities will not define my worth. I'll just have to find something else I'm good at and they'll see me for more than that."

"You don't need their approval for anything you do in life, Daphne."

Daphne's gaze snapped towards Atticus sharply. That was the first time he had spoken her name with so much sincerity. She liked it, she decided. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, especially when he wasn't speaking in a patronizing manner.

"Of course," she said. For a moment, she had forgotten about her situation. He wasn't her captor, she wasn't his prisoner, and they weren't kings or princesses from rivaling kingdoms. For a brief moment, Atticus was just someone that understood her. "Thank you."

He smiled. This time, it wasn't anything cunning or snarky. And that smile was so warm that it felt like a peck of sunshine.

"I have another question, though."

"What is it?"

Atticus furrowed his eyebrows. "If you are inept at using magic, why were you wearing that pendant on your first day here? You were reaching for it like it would aid you in battle."

"Oh! Oh." The mention of her necklace was a rude reminder of how it was utterly destroyed on her first night here. "Right. The one that you conveniently shattered. It was a gift from my sister. She said it would help me harness my magic quicker and I could use it to channel whatever latent magic I might have in times of need."

"What stone did you think it was, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Clear quartz." Daphne furrowed her eyebrows. "They help to release and regulate energy, right? Drusilla said it would help."

"It was a piece of junk," Atticus revealed. "No wonder you couldn't do any bit of magic."


Prequel Available!

Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife

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