Stolen by the Rebel King

Chapter 17: First Things First

"Princess! You've returned safely!" Maisie wailed in relief when she saw Atticus and Daphne arrive back at the castle. She had been anxiously pacing a hole in the courtyard, waiting for the princess to return. When she had realized the princess had left for the Winter Fair, she had been beside herself with horror.

The princess was dressed as a maid and had no money! The weather was cold and she had no cloak! What if she got conned by dishonest vendors? What if unrighteous men lusted after her beauty and took her captive? What if the princess never returned?

The poor maid only calmed down slightly after knowing that King Atticus was with her.

"You're shivering!" She quickly wrapped a cloak around the princess, not liking the paleness of her skin and lips. When Maisie spotted the wet patches on her dress, she panicked. "Princess, what happened to you?"

"Snowball fight," Daphne replied tiredly, her mind in a daze from the day's events. She accidentally activated a magic crystal, started a snowball fight with Atticus, and tackled him into the snow. Now Atticus was treating her like she had the plague, refusing to talk to her or even look at her on the way back.

This was even stranger than them finding out a toy seller had unknowingly sewn magic crystals in her toys.

"Run a hot bath for the princess," Atticus ordered as he strode indoors.

"What about you?" Daphne asked, not out of concern, but out of… something. She had shoved him into the snowbank. He must have been freezing. She felt vaguely guilty.

"I'm busy," Atticus curtly said, pointedly not looking at her as he strode up the stairs.

Maisie blinked, before looking at Daphne as though she had the answers to her liege's unlikely behavior. Daphne could only shrug. Perhaps Atticus was allergic to being tackled by women?

Was he such a petty man that he didn't like her after she caught him by surprise, even for something as trivial as a snowball fight?

She sniffed. How small-minded.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Maisie bowed hurriedly. "Princess, this way! There's an active fireplace here. Please wait while I prepare your bath."

Daphne followed her, one eye on Atticus's back.

"So you've finally returned!" Sir Jonah had stormed down the corridor, hotly pointing at King Atticus who paused at the steps. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Hi Jonah, how are you doing?" Atticus said blandly, but Daphne could detect the sheepish tone in his voice. "Lovely to see you, do you want some roasted meat―"

"I'll turn you into roasted meat!" Sir Jonah declared as he leaped up the stairs. Atticus, the fearsome king he was, simply flung the bag of children's toys at Jonah, before turning tail and running up the stairs like his life depended on it.

Sir Jonah caught the bag and was hot on his heels, yelling at him to stop.

Daphne raised a curious eyebrow.

"Sir Jonah was so mad with worry when he found out King Atticus didn't tell him before sneaking out with you," Maisie whispered. "His face could curdle milk!"

Daphne snickered and then sneezed. And then sneezed again.

Darn it.

***

"Jonah, if you behave like this, there's going to be a lot of rumors about us," Atticus pointed out as Jonah finally cornered him in one of the castle's empty rooms, slamming the door behind him. "Why do I feel like a husband that got caught having an affair?"

"Like I would ever marry someone that decides to leave the castle without even a simple note." Jonah scoffed, and Atticus winced.

He knew he had forgotten something when he left the castle in a hurry. He was too focused on spending time at the fair, spying on his people, and teasing his new wife. The thought of her rosy puffed cheeks and her pouty lips unknowingly sent a grin onto Atticus's face.

"And look at you, smiling right now, as if it was something to be proud of!"

The observation quickly wiped the smile off. Atticus's expression straightened, his lips pursed guiltily as if he were a child whose hands were caught in the cookie jar.

Jonah continued to rant, upset. "No note, no guards, nothing but only a horse and a princess dressed as a maid with you. Your Majesty, do you have memory loss? Or did the very recent assassination slip through your mind? Should I bring out the decapitated heads for you to jolt your memory? Maybe splash some blood on the washed rugs?"

"I handled that just fine, so honestly―" Atticus began, but Jonah was on a roll.

"I'm not stopping you from having your fun. In fact, I think it's a great idea if you wish to go out with the princess to endear yourself to her." Jonah sighed, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. "But for the love of God and heavens above couldn't you let me know first? Especially after we had that talk about getting you guards! Were you not listening to me?!"

"Yes I was, and I truly forgot about sending you a note," Atticus said meekly, trying to seem sorrier than he was.

His mother had long passed away, but sometimes Jonah channeled her so well he wondered if it was her spirit possessing him. When he got like this, Atticus would just nod his head and admit his faults.

"But don't worry, my friend, you'll be getting plenty of notes soon enough," Atticus continued, a glint returning to his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Atticus then regaled him with everything that happened at the fair, from Daphne's magical awakening to the toy seller's story and how he gave her Jonah's address. Jonah looked less than pleased, his face growing darker with every word that crossed Atticus' lips.

"What a headache," Jonah complained as he looked into the bag he caught. "Not only do we have a smuggling ring on our hands, you gave her my address?"

"Well, I wasn't going to give her mine," Atticus said, shrugging. "I was in disguise! I can't exactly say 'Please address your intel to the king at the royal palace'. She thinks I'm you. If she falls in love with you, do know it's because of me. I was a perfect gentleman."

"Nonsense! You probably ruined my reputation!" Jonah squawked. "Besides, 'I' am now married with quite possibly a child on the way. Why would she be sending me love letters? And if she did, if I had reciprocated, wouldn't that be the end of my reputation?"

"Bah, that's a problem for later. Right now, there's something we're missing," Atticus said."If you were a smuggler, why would you choose children's toys?"

"No one would expect it. We certainly didn't." Jonah shrugged and pulled out a toy, wondering what Atticus meant. It didn't react in his hands so he pulled out another.

This time, the toy glowed a bright green― a tell-tale sign of earth element activation. Jonah hurriedly tamped down his aura, causing the toy to dim.

"Fuck," Jonah cursed, his eyes widening.

"Fuck indeed."