"Greetings to the king," Eugene immediately greeted, bowing.
Atticus barely inclined his head in response. He was behaving like a badly behaved guard.
"Took you long enough." Daphne hissed under her breath. Her nose wrinkled in displeasure; she could smell the stench of other women on him. For some reason that upset her immensely.
How dare he come back smelling like a perfume bottle?
"Oh, you were waiting for me?" Atticus asked hopefully.
Daphne responded by discreetly trodding on his toes, feeling vindictive pleasure in the way he tried not to wince.
"I'm sorry, sunshine. I had to make sure to pick the most suitable wine for you," Atticus said, looking appropriately repentant. He grabbed the glass from Daphne's hand and replaced it with his own.
Daphne wanted to warn him about the drink, but maybe he already knew. Atticus was many things, but he wasn't an idiot. If he was one, her escape plan would have worked the first time.
Speaking of idiots, Daphne also wasn't fooled by his acting, but at least she wasn't cornered by Eugene.
Atticus then shot Eugene a look so derisive, as though he was muck found at the bottom of his shoe.
"I'm a jealous man, Lord Attonson. I don't appreciate anyone getting drinks for my wife."
"Jealousy is a vice, King Atticus," Eugene replied easily, but Daphne saw how his eyes darted from Atticus' face, to the ring on his finger. Obsidian had never glinted so ominously.
"Then let the gods judge me as they deem fit," Atticus said wryly, and before Daphne could react, he downed the entire glass of wine.
"Atticus! Don't do it! Spit it out!" Daphne shrieked in horror, and the entire ballroom fell into stunned silence as they turned to stare at them.
The new queen was making a fuss, and the man next to her had such a muddied reputation it made convicted felons look like saints. Did Lord Eugene already offend Vramid's royal couple? Or was the new queen already losing her mind?
Regardless, it was a scandal waiting to happen. The crowd watched with bated breath.
"What?" Atticus said, blinking innocently as Daphne tried not to hyperventilate. "Sunshine, you have your own drink. I just gave it to you. Drink up, you're looking quite red."
Eugene chuckled darkly. "Your Highness, your wife thinks I've poisoned you. I must say, this does hurt a man's feelings."
Daphne spluttered frantically. "You―"
Atticus laughed, as if highly amused. "Would you rather she hurt your feelings, or for me to hurt you?"
Eugene laughed warily with a light bow. "I'll accept whatever decision you deem worthy."
"Wise man," Atticus said cheerily, but the hard glint in his eyes didn't vanish. "Stop monopolizing my wife with your inane conversation and scram."
Anger briefly flashed through Eugene's eyes as he was ordered to leave, as though he was a mere servant. Daphne internally shuddered at the look. She wouldn't put it past him to take revenge at a later date.
However Eugene Attonson said nothing. He merely gave one last reluctant bow before stalking off, presumably to harass other young ladies.
Daphne breathed a sigh of relief at his retreating back, watching Atticus from the corner of her eyes.
"That was rude of you. Are you not worried he'll see revenge for this slight?"
"He'll have to get in line. I have so many enemies that'll fight him for the honor of decapitating me," Atticus said matter-of-factly, before turning to give Daphne a careful once-over. "Did he say or do anything to you?"
Then returned that careless smirk.
"If he did, nothing will stop me from throwing him into the dungeons," he promised.
Daphne gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not the one that drank the wine he offered! It could have been spiked! Or poisoned!"
Her new husband, instead of being appalled or worried at her accusation, beamed even brighter. Daphne had to wonder if he had been dropped on the head as a baby.
"You were worried about me? How sweet, sunshine. I'm glad to know you care so much about my well-being."
"I do not care about you," Daphne retorted defensively. "I'm just shocked that my new husband has so little self-preservation that he would drink poisoned wine. Perhaps if the heavens are kind, I'll be a widow by next week."
"Yet again, you demonstrate your lack of faith in me. I would be hurt, if I didn't find it incredibly charming."
Daphne snorted in disbelief. "So charming that you took an astonishingly long time to get a single glass of wine? You didn't even get me a single crumpet or scone to go along with it."
Atticus shot her a teasing grin, a hand idly stroking the small of her back. "So you were watching me. Were you jealous that this handsome husband of yours has women swarming all over him like bees to honey?"
Daphne spluttered, her face red. Jealous? Only in his wildest dreams. To spare herself the indignity of a reply, she all but drank her wine like it was water.
"Sunshine, have I driven you to alcoholism?" Atticus asked, watching her with mild alarm.
"Be thankful you haven't driven me to murder," Daphne replied primly, 'accidentally' stomping on his foot.
He winced, but then that disturbingly happy grin refused to leave his face. It made plenty of women titter behind their hands, snatching covetous glances at him and disdainful looks at Daphne.
King Atticus had always been a handsome man, but when he smiled, he was breath-taking. It was such a shame that he had to be saddled with such a talentless princess! Such were the thoughts the women had, even among those who were already married.
"I hate her, I hate her so much!" From the corner of the room came a bitter whisper.
It was Lady Veronica, the youngest daughter of Earl Yarrowood. She had been beside herself with glee to be invited to the ball, yet that woman caused her to make a negative impression in front of King Atticus!
It wasn't like she was lying. Princess Daphne of Reaweth couldn't do magic. What right did she have to act pitiful in front of the King and insult them afterwards?
"She doesn't deserve him! Look at her― she still dares to stomp on his foot!" Veronica scowled, stomping her own foot in anger.
"So ill-bred. Was she raised in a barn?" Her bosom friend, Lady Penelope, daughter of Baron Huntington, added in agreement. They watched as King Atticus led the Reaweth princess in yet another series of dances, and nearly went blind with jealousy. "Look at how she doesn't even smile when he's paying her so much attention. Who does she think she is?"
"Then why don't you teach her a lesson?"
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
"Then why don't you teach her a lesson?"
At these words, Veronica and Penelope nearly jumped in surprise. They didn't expect an eavesdropper, let alone one as accomplished as Marchioness Francessa Seibert. Before she got married, she was Earl Rindwald's daughter. It was an open secret that she was one of the prime candidates for Atticus's wife, since her father was among the first people to support his bid for the crown.
She had definitely tried her fair share of buttering Atticus up but the king was as cold as the kingdom's winters. For a woman who had a heart of ice, it was impossible for her to melt down his defenses.
Atticus had refused to take her as a wife, so she married Marquis Seibert instead. It didn't miss their notice that Marquis Seibert wasn't at the ball.
"My lady!" They both bowed hurriedly.
Veronica and Penelope were just small fry when compared to someone like the Marchioness. The lady was someone they looked up to, a name that they were familiar with. Even though every woman strived to become the queen of Vramid, there was just one woman they wouldn't mind losing to― Francessa.
She would've been the perfect queen. There was no other among their age group that was more fitting for the title, and most certainly not the trojan horse of a princess Reaweth had sent in a marriage of alliance.
"Good evening, ladies." Francessa smiled with all the goodliness of a saint. However, if only the women looked closer, they would've noticed that her expression was about as dark as any and everything that was rotten and soiled.
"Good evening," Penelope fairly greeted back.
"My lady, what did you mean by…?" Veronica trailed off, waiting for Francessa to continue.
"You heard me." Francessa's smile maintained, ever beautiful like a porcelain doll despite speaking words that were filled with poison. "She's still an outsider, isn't she? And if it was a marriage of alliance, she might not even have the king's backing."
"His Majesty defended her just now…"
"Only because everyone is watching," Francessa smoothly answered. "If there weren't anyone watching, why would he defend a wife he didn't even want?"
At her words, the other two women looked at each other and smiled.
***
Daphne caught the look of displeasure on Atticus's face when he yet again caught her wandering off on her own. That made it the fourth time that night she had disappeared from his sight, and the fourth time he had caught her.
It wasn't that she was actively trying to escape but it was getting boring standing around faking smiles for people she didn't know that well.
"And where are you trying to run off to this time?" Atticus sternly asked, frowning deeply. He caught her by her elbow, gently but firmly holding her in place, preventing her from running off further.
Daphne matched his expression. "Apologies, Your Majesty," she stressed his title sarcastically, "but corsets and high heels aren't exactly the most comfortable things to wear. Especially when I am famished and exhausted."
"Such a pampered princess." Atticus clicked his tongue. "Let me escort you―"
"Your Majesty!" A distant voice caught both their attention, cutting Atticus's sentence short as they whirled around in the source of the voice.
There, Daphne caught sight of a lanky-looking man dressed in a suit that looked way too big for him. Beside him was a beautiful woman with long pastel blue hair, curled neatly in waves. Her dress was a matching color, slightly darker in tone. The combination created a beguiling contrast when paired with her tanned skin tone.
Daphne wrinkled her nose. She hadn't a clue who those people were but judging by their appearances, they didn't look like they were mere nobility. For one thing, that woman had plenty of jewelry stacked on her delicate arms, the most jarring of them all was the sapphire-studded bangle she wore on her wrist.
Someone of high rank, she assumed. There were very few that could afford jewelry like that, not to mention so many.
"Your Majesty," the man repeated, "my humblest greetings." He bowed low, extravagant, holding a hand to his chest and the other spread out.
Atticus's eyes landed on the blue jewelry decked on both their bodies, quickly guessing their identities.
"Lord Castillo," Atticus nodded. His gaze then turned to the woman. "And you must be Princess Cordelia. Happy to see that you both could join us on this momentous occasion."
Princess Cordelia. Cordelia Aberforth of Nedour, Daphne assumed. It was a coastal kingdom that was far away from both Reaweth and Vramid. While Daphne knew that Vramid and Nedour had trade partnerships, their relations weren't good enough for the crown princess herself to show up at a mere ball all the way across the continent.
"Yes, congratulations to Your Majesty―" Lord Castillo cut himself short, sharply turning his gaze to eye Daphne up and down before continuing, "Your Majesties," he corrected. "As Vramid's biggest trade partner, His Majesty King Marinus thought it was only respectful to attend. Alas, His Majesty's hands are a little tied at the moment and thus he sent the crown princess in his stead."
Princess Cordelia surely did not disappoint. The woman stepped forward a little, a beautiful smile on her face. When she moved, so did her hair. The silky strands slipped off her shoulders, revealing her bosom. Her low-cut dress left little to the imagination.
"Greetings, Your Majesty." She curtsied, purposely dipping lower than what was needed. Daphne could fully well look into the cleavage of her dress without even intending to.
Daphne snorted. She had an inkling on what this princess was here to do and behold, the latter had indeed proved Daphne right.
"Has the kingdom of Nedour fallen so low that their princess has to act like a harlot?" Daphne asked inquisitively, purposely taking a slow long glance at the deep cut of Cordelia's dress, where her sadly unimpressive cleavage was attempting to make an impression.
Cordelia's face purpled to match her dress.
"I'll forgive you for your ignorant words, Princess Daphne." Cordelia shrugged delicately, rising to her full height. "It's not your fault you never left your country's borders until today. The world is vast, and the world of fashion is even more so."
Daphne scoffed.
"Ah, but it's impolite of me to bring out your defects, isn't it?" Cordelia let out a tinkling laugh, mockery in every syllable. "When you have no magical affinity, even a priceless necklace on you is worth nothing."
Daphne clutched at the garnet, not liking the covetous way Cordelia was looking at it. First her husband, now her jewels. This woman was a menace.
"That's not how you activate magic affinity." Cordelia tutted, a wicked glint in her eye. "I'll show you what power is."
And Cordelia flicked her wrists, and the sapphire bangle began to glow.
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
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