Atticus strolled out of his new wedding chamber, internally snickering at the idea of his new wife cursing him in her sleep. Since she already had less than positive feelings about him, he might as well relish in the moment. There was no way she could escape; she was exhausted and Jonah had put his best guards along the perimeter of the castle.
Speaking of Jonah…
"Jonah, report," Atticus demanded the moment he strode through Jonah's office. Jonah leapt to his feet from his desk.
"You're done? So quickly? It's barely half an hour since I last saw you!" Jonah exclaimed. "Did the assassins injure your manhood? Stay put, I'll get the physician!"
"Yell louder, I'm sure the whole castle would love to hear about my imagined impotence," Atticus said dryly. "Nothing happened."
"Then why did you take half an hour?" Jonah asked curiously. "Don't tell me you were just staring at her the whole time."
Atticus was silent.
"You were?" Jonah let out a bark of laughter. "The power of love is wondrous."
"It's not love," Atticus corrected, "She's a means to an end. Don't get too attached to her."
"Yes Sire," Jonah said, his smile dimming at the reminder. It was a pity that Princess Daphne entered their kingdom in less than ideal circumstances, but Vramid had very few cards to play when it came to the security of their kingdom.
Hence the planned kidnapping.
"And here's the report I promised you," Jonah said, handing Atticus a parchment. The ink was still wet at the end, and there was a huge line where Jonah was startled by Atticus' early entrance, but it contained a wealth of information and confirmed some suspicions.
"You believe they snuck into our kingdom as traders?" Atticus asked, reading it carefully.
"Definitely. We only started keeping close track of who enters and leaves our borders when you took over, and even now, every summer we welcome a huge party of traders with goods from other countries and they stay for at least a year. What's stopping our enemies from slipping in a spy or assassin?"
Atticus scowled, frustrated. Traders were a necessity to Vramid's survival. If he had to increase the requirements for traders to enter, they would simply seek their fortunes elsewhere, leading his people to suffer.
Yet he couldn't leave this problem alone. He couldn't ignore the fact that assassins had managed to ambush him on his wedding night.
Atticus knew that there was no possible way they could have crossed the mountainous path to enter the country in time, regardless of whether they were from Reaweth or Raxuvia. He had accounted for that in his plans.
Either he had spies from other kingdoms pretending to be his own citizens while still being in touch with their masters, or someone from his inner circle had leaked their plans to their enemies.
Both outcomes were terrible for Vramid, and both outcomes could be true. Atticus gripped at the parchment hard enough for it to tear, the obsidian in his ring casting long shadows in the room.
"Hey, I worked on this report. Don't ruin it," Jonah reminded him gently, tugging the report away.
"How many people know about the attack?"
"Truthfully? The entire castle," Jonah said regrettably. "For such a small team, they made a huge commotion. Almost like they wanted everyone to see them."
Atticus cursed. That was true. If they had wanted to rescue the princess, they could have simply snatched her when the maids were preparing her for the wedding ceremony. There would be no need to wait for him to arrive.
"The winter fair is coming soon. I'll double your guard," Jonah continued firmly.
"I don't need protection."
"Your wife does, and you'll be with her." There was a knowing glint in Jonah's eyes.
"I can protect her."
"And the guards will protect you," Jonah retorted, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Don't fight me on this. You know I'm right. You're strong, but not invincible. And if you're distracted by her, you won't be at your best."
"I'm not distracted by her nor will I be," Atticus said.
Jonah merely stared at him steadily with a raised eyebrow. Who was the one that stared at his new wife for half an hour? Despite claiming that she was nothing more than the means to an end?
"Fine," Atticus sulked, giving in because he didn't want to waste his time arguing about this. "I'll agree to your stupid request."
"And maybe you should bully your wife less. My nephew can woo girls better than you." Jonah continued cheekily, "Pigtail-pulling is beneath you, my liege― ouch, ouch, ouch!"
Atticus put Jonah in a headlock, and only let go when Jonah pleaded for mercy.
After Jonah caught his breath, he continued more seriously. "Speaking of your wife, I can't believe the rumors were true. She really can't do any magic at all?"
"So far, none." Atticus frowned.
It was almost unheard of for royalty to have no affinity for magic. After all, their ancestors had ensured that they kept magic in the royal bloodline by marrying mages as concubines and killing those unwilling. Now, it was rare for any commoner to have magic abilities.
If Daphne had no magic affinity, and he had a child with her… Vramid would be severely weakened.
He had purposely terrified her, hoping for signs of accidental magic to show. There was nothing.
And then there was that useless piece of rock she wore around her neck. It was pretty, made of what seemed like a clear quartz that had diamonds embedded around it. If it were just a flashy piece of jewelry at the bottom of a noble lady's jewelry box, Atticus would've thought nothing of it.
But that was exactly the problem.
That was just what it was― an accessory. Beautiful but useless.
Why had she held onto it so tightly like it would save her life? Did she honestly think that it would?
"She was wearing this," Atticus said, throwing something towards Jonah.
When the latter caught the shards that came flying at him, he frowned, observing what was left. It seemed like a necklace. There was a chain and broken bits that could've made out a pretty pendant. Other than that, Jonah couldn't tell what was special about it that would've prompted his king to keep the remains.
"A necklace?" Jonah questioned.
"One from the Reawethen vault, most probably," Atticus responded. "They had a few useless trinkets like these back then."
Jonah wrinkled his nose. "And what's so special about this then?" he asked, toying with the pieces. "This is… junk now. The shards are too small to work with now that you've gone and shattered it."
"She was wearing this when she first arrived." Atticus heavily slumped into the sofa placed by the window of Jonah's office. "Holding onto it like it was her ticket out of here."
Something clicked in Jonah's head.
"You think that this is why―"
"Find out everything there is to know about it," Atticus cut in. "Report back on your findings."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Jonah said. He tucked the leftover pieces of the necklace in a napkin before tucking it in his pocket. "Oh and one more thing."
Atticus raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"The winter fair," Jonah said. A sly grin crept up his face, shaping his lips. "Does the princess know you're about to take her out on a date yet?"
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
"Rise and shine, Your Highness!" Maisie chirped delightedly as she pulled the curtains to let the first rays of sunlight through. Daphne let out a groan that sounded more like a drunk stumbling out from a tavern than a sound from a dignified princess.
"It's morning already?" Daphne grumbled, but she still sat up, her hair looking like a bird's nest. She felt barely rested from the events of yesterday, how could it be morning mere hours later?
"Yes!" Maisie beamed at her. "Our mornings start early. Would you like to change for breakfast? I'll brush your hair too."
"Yes please," Daphne got up and sat at the dressing table while Maisie brushed her hair, her face scrunched in concentration as she detangled the knots with a deft hand. Daphne suddenly felt strangely homesick; this was something her old maids would have helped her with.
Yet here she was, hundreds of miles away from her original destination, with no one she trusted for company. Her eyes burned, her heart even more so.
"Your Highness?" Maisie paused, panicking as she saw tears in her princess' eyes. Oh dear, the King would have her head! She dropped the brush and knelt down, her head on the carpet. "I'm sorry!"
"Why? You didn't do anything wrong," Daphne said, hurriedly drying her eyes before pulling Maisie to her feet.
"I'm still sorry," Maisie said, bowing her head repeatedly. "I know you must miss home, but I can't let you go either! I'm sorry!"
"It's not your fault," Daphne said.
The fault lay with one man and one man alone. What could servants do but obey? Daphne sighed, world-weary. If she wanted to escape, she would have to bide her time. Atticus hadn't dishonored her the night before, so she could still regain her old life if she fled.
"Please stop crying," Daphne pleaded, now realizing that Maisie was the one sobbing into her carpet. Maisie replied with wet sobbing.
Daphne sighed. It was a bit like dealing with her younger half-sister Drusilla. She could also easily turn into a blubbering mess without warning. Daphne handed her a handkerchief before making her way to her window. The window pane already had a thin layer of frost, and when she peered down, the grounds were covered in white.
But what stood out was the addition of tents in multiple colors right in the middle of the town square. The castle was a distance away, but Daphne could spot the townspeople, clad in their furs, going about their day.
"Maisie, why are there so many tents?"
Maisie hurriedly blew her nose into the handkerchief and answered her.
"Your Highness, it's the start of our winter fair!" Maisie cheered up almost immediately. "We get traders from all around the kingdom and abroad, there's good food and wine and ice dancing too! They'll be there even after Yuletide."
"That sounds fun," Daphne said wistfully.
Even in Reaweth, she had never been out in a fair. She had no magic; it was simply too much of a risk. Her parents would never allow her. And each year, she could only watch from her window as her brothers and sisters enjoyed their time out and about. On the other hand, Daphne was just a songbird trapped in a golden cage.
"It is!" Maisie nodded enthusiastically. "Princess, you must visit the fair at least once!"
Daphne snorted, unladylike. There was no way King Atticus would let her leave the castle to explore. Daphne hadn't kidnapped anyone before, but even she knew it was preposterous to let one's captive stroll around the town unguarded.
"Maisie, I'm here as a captive," Daphne reminded her gently. "I doubt the King would let me wander around the kingdom unescorted."
"But you are his wife. He will escort you," Maisie said, blinking guilelessly at her. "Why would he stop you from leaving?"
Daphne sighed. Maisie was gullible enough that she would be an easy mark for any conman. Lord help her. Daphne had no idea how Maisie survived in the royal palace for so long, given that it was usually the most dangerous place to be with all the schemes and betrayals.
"Nevermind, just help me dress."
She then observed the dress Maisie picked out for her. It was a beautiful sky-blue dress made from silk, but there was a dark blue overcoat that came with it, most likely to ward off the wind and chill.
It wasn't in her wardrobe last night. She had poked around the room, hoping to find something to aid her escape, but she only found a lot of matronly maroon dresses in the wardrobes. They looked like something her grandmother would wear.
Absolutely ghastly.
"This dress…"
"Is it not to your liking?" Maisie asked, immediately apologetic. "I'll pick a new one for you!"
"No need. I was just wondering where it came from."
"Why, it came from the king, of course!" Maisie said, clasping her hands together. Daphne choked on her spit. "He had these specially commissioned for you. He loves you."
Oh did he? Daphne scowled. This clearly showed that he made plans to kidnap her at least months in advance. Dresses like these weren't made in a day.
And 'love'? Daphne made a face, unable to completely mask her thoughts. It seemed like Maisie really was more naive than she looked to be.
Love didn't exist within the walls of the palace. It wasn't just in Vramid but in Reaweth too, and possibly every part of this godforsaken world. People married for politics and power. Only the commoners were free to marry for love.
"Your Highness?" Maisie asked cautiously, not liking the murderous look that appeared on the princess' face.
"I'm fine." Daphne wiped the scowl away to stop herself from scaring Maisie. It wasn't Maisie's fault she was working for a madman, and she was easily taken in by his lies.
But if Atticus wanted to dress her up like she was his plaything and expected her to take it lying down, he was going to be sorely disappointed.
"Maisie, can I borrow a dress from you instead?"
"But that's― Your Highness! You can't, you mustn't!" Maisie was nearly in tears. "His Majesty would be furious!"
Her hands came to wrap around her own neck. Daphne wasn't sure if Maisie was trying to protect it or mimic how it would look when Atticus found out she had lent Daphne a maid's garb.
"He might just…" She gulped.
Daphne couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"Maisie, he's not going to kill you," Daphne said in a deadpan. "Now hurry along and get something. Anything."
"Oh…" Maisie bit her bottom lip. "Alright then, Your Highness."
Daphne watched as the young girl scuttled out of the room, only to return moments later with a dress in hand, along with a couple of accessories to match. The princess eyed the common garbs, her eyes brightening.
A bold idea slipped into her mind.
"Maisie," she said, "you are brilliant."
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife
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