Stolen by the Rebel King

Chapter 7: Monsters Can Be Kind

Without further warning, Atticus pulled the wedged glass out of Daphne's foot.

A scream tore through her throat. The pain of it was just as bad as when it had cut into her flesh. Now that it was so abruptly pulled out, the wound scorched.

But, surprisingly, as quickly as the pain came, it was gone. What was once painful was soon replaced by a cooling sensation. Daphne heaved, her chest rising and dropping rapidly as she looked down at Atticus, who was squatting just beneath her.

A king like himself, someone high and mighty, was bent over at her feet. He gently held her with one hand while the other hovered over her skin. She could feel a slight tingle where her wound was. It felt like frost was kissing her skin when his hand moved over.

Within seconds, Daphne watched as her skin stitched itself back bit by bit. It was only then had she realized that Atticus was using his magic on her― the very same magic he had used to kill those four men was now used to heal her.

Just like that, her foot was back to normal. There was no scar, no pain, no wound. Just a slight tint of redness from the leftover blood to remind her that what had happened was not just a frightening nightmare.

"Is there any leftover discomfort?" Atticus asked, drawing her attention.

Daphne snapped out of her reverie, blinking rapidly. Her throat was dry as her gaze met Atticus's. He was still on one knee, his hand holding her ankle as he looked up at her like a devoted follower in praise of his goddess.

"N-No," Daphne finally managed to force out. "I'm good."

The king nodded before rising to his full height once more. As soon as he stood up, he scooped Daphne up in his arms. She yelped a little in surprise, her arms quickly coming to hook around his neck as she tried to balance herself. Daphne could feel Atticus shake slightly in laughter.

"Let's get you somewhere safe," he said. When she looked away from the ground so as to meet his gaze, Daphne was met with mirth dancing in his eyes. "This isn't a room for a new bride. Especially when you're mine."

His broad steps quickly helped them cross the room. Daphne couldn't bring herself to look at the fallen men. She knew ― or had guessed ― when they had walked past them. The entire time, she had her eyes squeezed shut. Yet, even though she refused to open her eyes, she knew that the image of their broken necks and mangled bodies had already seared itself into her mind.

Without a doubt, she would be haunted by nightmares for many nights to come.

"Your Majesty, are you alright?" A man suddenly appeared with a couple of guards behind him. He was dressed a little differently, prompting Daphne to assume that he wasn't merely part of the knights, but maybe someone a little higher up the ladder.

"And of course, you couldn't have shown up fifteen minutes earlier when you would've actually been useful." Atticus snorted, rolling his eyes. "Clean up my room. Some idiots tried to plan an ambush."

"Did you…"

"Unlike someone," Atticus pointedly said with a glare, "I can actually get the job done quickly and efficiently. Go be useful, Jonah, and get someone to tidy up the room. I don't want the blood to stain my carpets."

"Seriously?" The man, Jonah, sighed. He rubbed the back of his head with a hand.

"Those were imported," Atticus said primly. "If you dawdle, I'll make you scrub them clean."

"How terrible," Jonah drawled out, seemingly unbothered by Atticus's words. "Princess Daphne, please convince your husband to be less of a tyrant. Scrubbing carpets isn't in my skill set."

Daphne raised her eyebrows in surprise. This man didn't seem to fear King Atticus at all! She took a closer look at him.

It was undeniable. Jonah was quite handsome, with humor visible in his eyes.

Daphne assessed him, giving the man a quick scan. Messy golden hair, forest green eyes, and a smile that reminded Daphne of a golden retriever.

The way he easily sidled up to the tyrant king of the North, however, was more than enough proof of his strength. Just because he looked harmless did not mean that he was indeed so. After all, no fragile do-gooder could so easily befriend the monsters parents would tell their children of.

He shot her a dimpled smile, as though encouraging her to join in a private joke. Bubbly youthfulness practically radiated from the man.

If King Atticus embodied winter's harshness, this man was the warmth of summer. She found herself relaxing the more she looked at him.

Then she remembered she was still in King Atticus' arms, and hurriedly gestured for Atticus to put her down. It was embarrassing to greet someone new when she was tucked in his arms like a baby.

"I can walk," Daphne declared, before turning to the stranger. "I'm Princess Daphne Molinero, of Reaweth. May I have the honor of your name?"

"The honor is mine." The man bowed, lips quirked into a smile. "I'm Jonah Raycott, leader of the Kingsguard. And an old friend of your new husband. Do look after him for me, he gets cranky easily. Sulky too, like a baby."

"Some guard you are." Atticus scowled. "And I do not get 'cranky' or 'sulky' easily. You liar."

The fact that his new bride seemed to warm up to Jonah in mere minutes irritated him. It had always been like this when they were children― Atticus, blithely offending people with his words and actions while Jonah soothed rankled feathers and hurt feelings.

"Do you want me to tell your new wife about all your idiotic moments?" Jonah threatened. "Because that's what will happen if you make me scrub even one carpet."

"Blackmailing the king counts as treason. I'll throw you into the dungeons."

"Then you'll be in the dungeons too, listening to my report for tonight," Jonah replied easily. "What will your new wife think? Her husband, spending a night in a cold, dingy cell, with only another man for company."

Daphne snorted in amusement. Atticus caught the brief twitch of her lips and sulked even further.

"Just leave, you moron." Atticus was a king, so he didn't ― couldn't ― whine, but there was a certain petulance in his tone as though he was a disgruntled child.

It was an emotion so ordinary that Daphne had to blink in surprise. All this time, Atticus had behaved like an intelligent, deadly monster, but at this very moment, he was merely a man teased by his best friend.

A funny feeling rose in Daphne's heart.

Said best friend gave him a two-fingered salute and then gave Daphne a deep bow. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Princess Daphne. Have a good rest. I'll leave him in your tender hands."

And then they were alone.

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