"Tell me."
"I… there was a traveler that stopped by my farm," the seller started to say. "He helped us craft some of the more intricate toys in exchange for our sheep's wool. When he heard about my problem, he offered to give me some of his own stones." She paused, hesitating. "He said he found them by the ocean, when the tide was gone."
Atticus clenched his fist. Great.
Someone had infiltrated his kingdom, possibly using his own helpless citizens to smuggle precious gems into his country. This seller would have simply created the toys, and then the rest of the smugglers would simply buy the toys from this woman, who didn't know any better.
No gems appeared with the tides, but how would his citizens know? Most of them have never seen the ocean. Vramid was surrounded by endless winter and what seemed like an infinite row of trees. It would be a miracle to even find moving water in a stream or river.
And if one of Atticus's men had discovered this scheme, this innocent seller's head would have rolled. His kingdom didn't support the illegal mining of gems.
"Am I going to be imprisoned?" the woman asked softly, spotting the murderous look on Atticus' face. This man was probably a constable, even a soldier. He was going to haul her to the king! The very thought made tears form in her eyes.
"No, of course not," Daphne said, holding her hands. "You were completely unaware."
"I didn't know," the woman repeated, just short of crying. "I really didn't. You have to believe me!"
"The pebbles inside this toy," Atticus said instead, changing the topic. "What were the colors? Do you remember?"
"I…" The seller's mouth gaped open and close, unsure what to say. "No, sir. It's hard to tell since the stones were generally mixed. There's a variety of colors in each toy."
"How much is it?" Atticus asked. "For the toy, I mean. I'll buy all of them you have on hand."
"Please take them for free, if it means you wouldn't report me to the king!" The seller reached for the rest of her stock, pulling out a dozen more similar-looking toys.
"Nonsense." Clicking his tongue, Atticus reached for his pouch, pulling out a couple of gold coins. "You are running a business nonetheless, and you have a family to take care of. There's no reason to report you if you're an unknowing helper." Placing eight gold coins in the stall vendor's hands, he continued, "Will this be enough?"
The woman's eyes widened at the sight of the shiny golden coins that now sat in the center of her palm. She had never held so much money before! This could feed their family for a whole year, if she budgeted wisely.
"It's more than enough!" she exclaimed. "Thank you, sir, thank you. Thank you for sparing me."
"In exchange," Atticus said, "I'll need you to do something for me."
The seller's heart sank. She knew it wouldn't be so easy to detach her name from magic once they have been related.
Nonetheless, she still bravely said, "What is it? If it's something I can do, I will definitely help out in return for you and your wife's generosity."
"If the same man ever approaches you again, let me know," Atticus instructed. Reaching for the piece of paper and quill behind the counter, he scribbled down an address. "Address your letters to this location and name. It might be better for you to have someone you trust to go in your stead."
The seller peered at the address written on the parchment, her eyes turning as wide as saucers.
"T-This…" she stammered. Her hunch had been right. This man was indeed someone she shouldn't mess with. "Of course, Sir Jonah. If I come across any new information, I will let you know at once."
They bid the frantic woman goodbye, and in their hands were bags full of her toys. To any casual festival goer, they looked like an ordinary couple who went overboard with shopping for their newborn, which was how Atticus wanted it to look.
"Does Sir Jonah know you're stealing his identity?" Daphne asked quietly after they were far enough from the stall vendor.
Atticus shrugged. "What he doesn't know won't kill him."
Daphne longed to take out the toys one by one to see if she could inspire a similar reaction, just to make sure she hadn't been hallucinating the entire situation. Initially, she still wanted to take a look at the many other stalls, but the realization that she could have magical abilities drove all other thoughts from her mind.
'Please let it be true.' She prayed desperately in her heart. If it was nothing but a mere fluke, it would be utterly devastating.
Atticus was surprisingly silent. She cast a careful look, not liking the grimness in his eyes. He was so noisy throughout the trip that she wished he would keep quiet, but now that he wasn't saying a word, the atmosphere was becoming uncomfortable.
"Do you want to go back to the castle?" Daphne asked unsurely, her voice barely above a murmur.
"Hmm?" Atticus turned to look at her as if snapped out of a trance. "Oh, no, of course not, sunshine. We've barely just begun."
"You just seem very…," Daphne hesitated, "out of it. Don't you have to deal with what just happened?"
"Of course I do," Atticus answered. "But it's not that urgent that I would have to sacrifice time with my new wife." His signature cocky grin slipped back onto his face. "Unless, of course, my beloved is rushing back so that we can continue our quality time spent in the bedroom?"
Daphne scowled. She should've known better than to worry about a prick like that. Atticus was a fully grown adult, much more a king. He could take care of himself plenty.
"I take back what I said." She scowled, folding her arms across her chest. "If I'm finally out here, I might as well make full use of the time. Maybe all the walking could even tire you out."
"I know something else that could tire us both out," Atticus immediately glibly insinuated, wiggling his eyebrows. "And it would be an activity both of us would enjoy. Tell me, my dear wife, would we have a dozen kids to make full use of the toys we just bought?"
Instantly, Daphne's face burned red at his words. She sneered at him, eyebrows furrowed and lips pinched into a straight line. If only her little display of magic just now hadn't been a fluke. She would very much enjoy burning this man down to his bare bones.
"Over my dead body!"
"I'm not exactly into necrophilia, but I'll make an exception for you," Atticus commented, pretending to be deep in thought. "But I must say, you have an incredible variety of interests in bed. First strangulation, now necrophilia…"
The audacity of this man!
Daphne screamed into her hands. She wanted to hit him so bad her body was practically steaming with repressed need. There had to be something she could use…something on hand…
"That's a rather distasteful thing, especially for a princess, don't you think?" Atticus continued, loving how his wife was turning a fetching shade of red. She took deep gulping breaths and crouched down, as though she suddenly lost strength in her limbs.
"Sunshine?" Atticus asked warily, now slightly worried. His wife did accidentally discover possible latent magic in her, who knows what effect it might have on her body? There were hardly any studies in this field.
"Are you alright? Do we need to go―"
He was met with a snowball to the face.
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
Atticus spluttered as he coughed out a mouthful of snow, only for Daphne to grab another handful and shove it down his shirt. The cold caused him to let out an undignified shriek; he immediately channeled his powers through the sunstone in his pocket, suffusing his body with a warmth that melted the offending snow.
He bared his teeth, ready for battle. Even if the opponent was his wife, he wasn't going to show her any mercy!
But when he was about to strike, he was struck dumb by the sound of her laughter. His wife, who had scowled and grumbled and snarled at him in no small measure ever since she had arrived at Vramid, had her face tilted to the sky as she laughed uproariously. She was practically wheezing with laughter.
He stilled his hand, all of a sudden captivated as though he was stuck in a trance.
She looked enchantingly lovely, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her breath escaping her mouth in puffs as she gasped and laughed. All this while, Atticus had viewed her as part of his project, a means to an end. She wasn't really as much a person as she was a tool. Just like the stones they wielded, she was beautiful but that was just about it.
Yet now… Now he was utterly beguiled. How hadn't he noticed before?
Princess Daphne of Reaweth was always rumored to be beautiful. He hadn't been surprised or disappointed when Atticus finally saw her in real life as well. But now… every bit of laughter that escaped her lips sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes. Her smile was radiant and seemingly held the warmth of sunlight in it. And her eyes, when they weren't glaring him down with the heat of Hell, reminded Atticus of the swirling depths of the ocean― he was willing to drown in them forever.
She bent down again and flung another handful of snow at him.
Atticus blinked, snapping himself out of the strange stupor he found himself in. So what if his wife was beautiful and lovely, and when she laughed it felt like the coming of spring in his heart? That wasn't important, and it wouldn't derail the plans he had for her.
It couldn't.
He steeled his heart, and then scooped up the snow, using his powers to quickly, yet discreetly, shape it into a perfect snowball. Daphne may have gotten the better of him, but it was only because he was taken unawares. He was raised in the heavy snowfalls of Vramid, there was no way a sheltered princess from sunny Reaweth would defeat him in a snowball fight!
He flung it straight at her. Now it was Daphne's turn to scream as she ducked just in time, covering her head with her hands.
"Sunshine, don't start battles you can't win," Atticus drawled out, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he prepared to fire his weapon at her.
Daphne frantically gathered snow to gather into a ball, not liking the look in his eyes. She was going to suffer severe consequences for her audacity, but the first shot had already been fired. Since she was going to be punished either way, she might as well go down with a fight.
"You'll never get me alive!" she declared hotly as she simply flung what she had at him.
Without magic, the snowballs that Daphne made in haste were anything but great. They were barely circular and really more oval than anything. Some snowballs were so fragile that they broke apart before even crossing the distance between them. The others were too densely packed and would've no doubt hurt if it had successfully hit its target.
Thankfully, Atticus had the unfair advantage of using his magic to tear through her ammo. If the snowballs actually made it to him, it would no doubt cause a bruise.
"Are you getting tired already?" Atticus commented, laughing as he shot snowball after snowball in Daphne's direction. He could see the puffs of white that escaped her lips with every breath. Her stamina was quickly running out. "You can always surrender, you know? Along with a nice apology since you did start this war."
Daphne gritted her teeth, her buttons officially pushed. "Never!"
Letting out a war cry, she did something her parents and the rest of her family would've keeled over if they saw her doing. Taking off at full speed, Daphne made a mad dash toward Atticus. She charged towards him, reaching out her hands to tackle him.
At first, Atticus was confused about what his new wife was up to. Then, when he saw the look on her face ― one which resembled a berserk animal in an arena ― his eyes widened in horror.
"Wait… Sunshine… No―"
It was too late. By all means and reason, Daphne's body weight and strength shouldn't have been enough to tackle down the monstrous giant Atticus was, standing at 6'3. However, when the tuft of bright golden hair came charging towards him, he didn't know what took over his body.
The moment her hands wrapped around his torso, Atticus fell back with Daphne clinging onto him. Gravity brought them down to the ground while the layers of powdered snow cushioned their fall, though Atticus took the brunt of it.
His hand held Daphne's head securely, making sure she hadn't hit anything on the way down. Or at least, nothing more than more snow shoveled in their faces due to the fall.
"You are insane." Atticus hissed, wincing. Nothing badly hurt but it wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling either to be sent sprawling onto the ground.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Daphne grumbled.
"Sunshine, there are better methods to win a fight," Atticus retorted. "For example―"
He stopped short when Daphne looked up, finally lifting her gaze from his chest and back onto him. Their eyes met and for a second, Atticus forgot how to breathe. He hadn't realized they were so close to one another. And at that moment, he was suddenly hyper-aware of everything― how their faces were inches apart, how his hand was on the back of her head and at her waist, how her palms were pressed against his chest.
Atticus's Adam's apple rolled up and down. His heart felt like it stopped beating for a second there.
"Like?" she asked, her voice suddenly softer and meeker than before.
"Like…" he trailed off. His gaze lowered from her doe-like eyes down to her soft, pink lips before snapping back up to meet her gaze. "Like calling it a truce," he finally choked out. "You are freezing."
In haste, Atticus climbed to his feet, pulling Daphne up along with him. Once they were standing properly, he repelled away from her as though she had caught the plague. He didn't know why he was acting that way either, only that he knew he couldn't be near her in that manner again. If not, who knew what would happen to his traitorous mind?
"Let's head back," he said. "You need to get warm."
With that said, Atticus and Daphne started their journey back to the castle. Only this time, unlike when they were leaving the castle earlier, the journey back had more words unspoken than said.
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
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