The carriages began rolling in when the sun began to set, and Daphne watched with no small amount of interest at the difference in carriage designs. There was a sigil on top of each carriage, and they seemed to be based on animals. From her room, she could spot a hawk, a bear, and even a fox.
How interesting. Reaweth had nothing like this.
The sight of never-ending carriages lining the path did cause a pit to grow at the bottom of her stomach. These were Atticus' people, and they would be her people soon enough.
Everyone's eyes would be on her. How was she supposed to compose herself, when she spent most of her teenage years at the corner of every ballroom? What if Atticus' nobles were just like him, ruthless and cunning and prone to mocking?
How was she supposed to escape?
"Are you alright?" Atticus asked.
Startled, Daphne jumped a little, turning her head to look at him. Her hand was looped with his, resting on the crook of his elbow.
"Of course," she replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you're about to be sent into the lion's den," Atticus answered, a sparkle in his eye. A faint red crept onto his cheeks. "Well, at least you're dressed for battle."
Daphne's hand reached up to touch her hair.
Maisie had come into her room after she had returned, dressed. The maid basically sobbed and wept in apology for her tardiness before flying into action. Maisie had decided to braid her hair into an elegant, elaborate chignon, emphasizing the sparkle of her earrings, as well as the slenderness of her neck and the necklace that adorned it. She had used red flowers to keep in the theme of the dress, insisting heavily that the king's vision should be kept since he had taken the time to pick such a wonderful outfit for Daphne.
"Let's go."
Her earrings chimed with every movement. She would have to remove them if she was to make her grand escape, in case someone would hear the noise they made. Judging by their craftsmanship, they would fetch her a tidy sum in the case of an emergency.
If the earrings weren't enough, she would have to sell the necklace too. Her hand instinctively curled around the garnet pendant, feeling a strange pang of loss. She had this necklace for less than a day, yet she felt a strong kinship with it, as though it was giving her strength she didn't know she needed.
Daphne thought about the gentle way his fingers brushed her neck as he tried to fasten the necklace for her. The very same bloodstained hands that had killed assassins without mercy. She shuddered.
Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the grand doors of the ballroom, her arm linked in Atticus' own. They swung open, and Daphne was momentarily blinded by the bright lights.
"Introducing King Atticus Heinvres and his wife, Queen Daphne Molinero of Reaweth!" the herald announced.
At that moment, the chattering nobles that had gathered in the ballroom, sipping their wine glasses fell into immediate silence as they finally got a glimpse of their king's chosen bride. Instinctively, Daphne's grip tightened around Atticus's.
Daphne looked down and gulped. There was a long, twisting flight of stairs they had to walk down to the ballroom, and she felt her hands begin to sweat as she caught sight of the numerous judgemental gazes sent her way.
She caught more than a few sneers directed at her, but she willed herself not to react.
She had guessed that there would be plenty of people in attendance tonight but she hadn't thought it would be this many.
How was she supposed to escape like that?
As if he had read her mind, Atticus leaned in and whispered, "Don't even think about running, sunshine. Sable hadn't been very cooperative earlier today and she most certainly wouldn't be now."
Daphne scoffed but otherwise didn't say another word.
The king led her down the stairs and into the middle of the dance floor. As they walked, the crowd parted for them like the red sea, a hushed murmur falling over them. Daphne could catch whispers from here and there, things that only added to her nerves.
"Is that the new queen?"
"I heard she isn't able to use magic."
"A royalty that can't use magic? How weak."
"She will be the fall of the king."
Each additional commentary only made Daphne's heart thump even faster. She didn't care much for whether or not she would be a good queen for Atticus ― she didn't plan to stay long, after all ― but she most certainly had an issue with them talking so brazenly about her when she was right there.
What they said might be true but she was still a princess, and at that moment, their queen. How dare they?
"What a disgrace," the woman nearest to Daphne scoffed. Her companion nodded fervently in agreement.
Daphne glared hotly at the women. If looks could kill, they would've been dead.
When their gazes met, the woman's scowl deepened. She pursed her lips in disdain, trying to match Daphne's glare. But for a second, her eyes flitted to behind Daphne and immediately, her face paled several shades. Her companion followed suit, both of them turning away to look at the floor instead in shame.
She wasn't stupid. Daphne knew that it must've been Atticus's doing. And surely enough, she heard Atticus's voice speaking lowly right by her ear, "Is someone bothering you, sunshine?"
"Only a handful of flies, my dear. Nothing for you to worry about." The endearment rolled off her tongue easily. She hated calling Atticus that, but it was worth it to see the way the women's faces fell in disappointment and fury.
No one said she wasn't capable of being petty.
"My apologies for dirtying your eyes," Atticus said as he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "I'll trim the guest lists in the future."
The women's faces fell even further, and they stalked off to the sides of the ballroom, upset. In their place, several other couples took their spots in the ballroom.
"Forgiven," Daphne said, her lips forming a small smile.
The orchestra started to play.
"Shall we dance?" King Atticus asked with an outstretched hand, a twinkle in his eyes.
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
"My dear husband, I'm glad you asked."
Daphne placed her much smaller hand in his, willing herself not to flinch as he placed his other hand on her waist. There were countless eyes staring at her, waiting for her to make a mistake. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Atticus took a step forward, and they were off. Daphne felt years of dance practice take over instinctively, as she matched his movements step for step, beat for beat, in unison to the melody of the violins. Her dress flared out as she twirled.
As they spun around the dance floor, the lights around them blurred like they were stars. She could fuzzily make out a few more couples joining them when the herald prompted. Slowly, more and more people joined them, surrounding Daphne and Atticus, who were dancing right in the middle.
They were the star, the main attraction. And for once, it didn't feel like too bad of a thing.
Atticus was a great dancer. He moved with expertise, leading them into swirls, dips, and turns. And when the music came to an end, Daphne and Atticus were pressed up against each other. Smiles had unknowingly crept up both their faces, their foreheads slightly shiny with a thin layer of perspiration.
"Quite a nimble dancer you are, Your Majesty," Daphne teased. There must've been something in the air for Daphne felt light, as though she was floating on cloud nine.
"Not so bad yourself." He smiled.
A wave of applause surrounded them but for a brief moment, none of that mattered. Daphne was still riding the adrenaline from their dance, so when Atticus had offered a hand out to her to lead her to a corner, she didn't hesitate and took it instantly.
"Wait here," he instructed. "I'll get us something to drink." When he saw the glint that flashed in Daphne's eyes, he added, "And see that?" Atticus pointed to something a distance from them.
Daphne followed where he was pointing to, only to see two guards positioned right in front of the main door. As she looked around, it seemed clearer and clearer that every exit had been blocked off by Atticus's men.
"Don't waste your breath, sunshine," Atticus said. "Wait for me."
The king quickly disappeared after, blocked by throngs of people that immediately rushed forward to socialize once they realized that the king and queen had momentarily separated. Daphne squinted at the women that had wormed their way to Atticus's side. She might not be in love with that man but it didn't mean that she enjoyed sharing.
The fact that these women were comfortable enough to attempt to seduce her husband in their pitiful attempts at flattery showed that they didn't respect her or her authority. And to add salt to a wound, her husband seemed to be taking his own sweet time with the drinks.
'What a shame,' Daphne thought. 'It would've been a good opportunity to escape.'
"Might I interest Her Highness with a drink?" A voice spoke in a tone much higher than Atticus's voice.
Daphne spun around, alarmed. When she came face to face with a dashing young man, her eyebrows furrowed. Wrinkles appeared on her forehead as she frowned, taking a step back to create some distance between herself and the mysterious man.
"It depends," she said. "Who's offering?"
The man smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth.
"Apologies, Your Highness," he said, placing a hand over the left side of his chest where his heart should be, dipping into a bow. "Eugene Attonson, at your service."
"Lord Attonson," Daphne greeted. "Happy to make your acquaintance."
She didn't recognize the face but the name, at least, Daphne had heard of even back in Reaweth. The disabled son of the viscount family, the boy that climbed to the top of the ladder only because of his older brother's untimely death.
It was hard to forget such a name when all that the maids spoke about were of his rumors. Many gossiped about how it was Eugene that murdered his brother due to jealousy and ambition. However, no one ever found out the truth since the man was hidden well in Vramid, a land no one outside dared to enter needlessly.
"Forgive me for intruding so carelessly but it seemed like His Majesty had left for a period of time," Eugene said. "It didn't seem like he was returning anytime soon, so I took the liberty to bring something back for Your Highness."
Daphne eyed Eugene, then the drink he held out in his hand. He had another identical cup, both filled with what seemed like wine.
The smile he wore on his face seemed genuine enough, but Daphne knew that it was just a basic skill to have when in the ranks of nobility. All smiles had to look sincere, all words had to be polite. However, not everyone would have good intentions.
Daphne took the glass.
"Thank you for the kind thought, Lord Attonson."
She didn't drink from it, though. And Daphne didn't miss the way the viscount's eyes had flickered to look at her drink for a fraction of a second. A sinking feeling weighed down in her stomach.
Where was Atticus when she needed him?
"The drink isn't poisoned, if that's what you're wondering," Eugene said with a slight chuckle.
Her wariness had been obvious and Daphne wasn't surprised that he noticed it. She was, however, shocked that he had voiced out his thoughts. That was what piqued her interest.
"Lord Attonson, you're surely not what I expected you'll be like," she slowly said.
This time, it was his turn to look surprised. "Because I am not Edward Attonson?"
"No," Daphne answered immediately. "Because you're much bolder than what the rumors made you out to be."
Eugene smirked. "Correct me if I am wrong, my queen, but the rumors state that I am a murderer that spilled my own blood just to get a mere title." There was something dark hidden in his expression but it came and went so quickly that Daphne thought she had hallucinated it all. "Is that not bold enough?"
"It most certainly pales in comparison to the disrespect you're showing," a new voice added.
A hand came to rest on Daphne's shoulder, her back pressed against someone else's body. She didn't need to turn back to know that her husband had finally decided to show up to her rescue, though she did anyway.
He sure did take his damn own sweet time.
A menacing glint flitted across Atticus's eyes. Eugene was by no means a short nor small man but when compared to Atticus, the latter seemed like a giant with his bulging muscles and intimidating height.
"How dare you speak to my wife."
Someone's possessive...
Do let me know if you are enjoying this book so far!
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
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