Stolen by the Rebel King

Chapter 19: Depressing Regularity

In the days leading up to the ball, Daphne played her part as the dutiful princess. It wasn't hard to slip back into the skin of her past self, and it helped that somehow, every servant seemed to hold her opinion in high regard.

If Daphne made an off-hand comment about the color of the tablecloths not suiting the ambiance, the tablecloths were changed without question. She didn't even have this much power at home!

Hence she grew very careful about using her words. Instead, she decided to ask Maisie more questions about the ball; who was invited, what food was served, how long would it last, and if she needed to prepare anything special to avoid shaming Atticus.

Maisie was beside herself with happiness, pleased that the princess was taking an interest in her husband's affairs. She eagerly answered all the questions to the best of her ability, all while getting Maisie to prepare a variety of jewelry for her to choose from.

Meanwhile, Daphne plotted her escape with the details she had gathered.

When the big day arrived, Daphne insisted on dressing alone. Maisie was too busy, anyway, and didn't push further when Daphne had shooed her off.

"I'll be back later in the day to help you lace up!" Maisie had said before rushing off, heaps and bounds of fabric in her hands.

The moment Daphne was sure that Maisie was gone, she slipped out of her clothes and into the maid's attire that she had kept hidden all this while. Having worn it once before, it wasn't difficult for Daphne to quickly figure out the odds and ends. She quickly changed, this time, adding a plain scarf to cover up her hair and shield her face.

With the start of the ball soon approaching, the castle help were all busying back and forth, too preoccupied with their tasks at hand to care about a lone maid. To help her blend in, she tried her best to act like Maisie― a basket in hand with bundles of fabric in it.

Huffing and puffing, Daphne was much smarter this time and her journey proceeded much smoother than previously. She easily and quickly located the stables, stealthily heading over to the horse she had picked beforehand.

"Here… here… it's me," Daphne murmured to Sable, feeding her an apple she had saved from earlier.

Sable was the horse she had chosen to accompany her. She was a sweet-tempered mare with a coat darker than midnight, but she had a white stripe running through her forehead. Daphne had adored her from the first time she visited the stables.

The grooms were horrified at the thought of a princess potentially stepping in the muck of the stables, but she waved them off.

When they left, Daphne hurriedly stowed away a tiny bag of jewels under the haystack, along with some clothes she could change into and food that wouldn't go bad quickly. With the cold weather, they stayed in fairly good condition since she had left them there.

Thankfully, Sable didn't eat them either. They would help tide her over a good couple of days if not weeks. The sourc𝗲 of this content nov(𝒆l)bi((n))

Quickly strapping in all that was needed, Daphne led Sable out of the stables and quickly climbed on. Her actions were fluid enough and she silently thanked the practice she had when she had run off to the fair with Atticus a few days back. That was a good warm-up.

"Let's go, Sable," Daphne quietly said, urging the horse to move.

The horse neighed, following her heed. Yet, it lasted not more than a couple of steps when it suddenly gave a violent shake. Daphne tried to hold on as best as she could, but every couple of steps, Sable would repeat her movements until eventually, Daphne's hand slipped.

She fell off the horse, a silent scream escaping her lips. Surprisingly, the fall wasn't as painful as she thought it would be. However, a mouthful of sand definitely stuck onto her lips.

"Oh, come on." Daphne hissed.

She didn't give up. Again and again, she climbed onto the horse. Again and again, Sable threw her down. Even though the impact of landing didn't hurt, it still wasn't comfortable to land on the same spot every couple of minutes. She had barely even left the castle compound when Daphne was thrown down for the sixth time in a row.

"Now you're just doing it on purpose," Daphne said through gritted teeth, fuming. The horse merely softly neighed in reply, its tail flicking. Even without saying a word, Daphne felt that Sable was mocking her.

The princess took in a deep breath before she placed her hand on the saddle again, taking a moment to breathe before her next attempt in hoisting herself back on. Truthfully, the repeated action of climbing up the horse was starting to get tiring. Her movements had turned sluggish and she wasn't sure how many times more she could repeat this.

Yet, right before she had the chance to pull herself up, she felt her body turn weightless. She was lifted in the air like magic, her limbs moving on their own accord. Daphne's eyes widened with surprise as her legs maneuvered themselves, along with her arms and her body, positioning so that she was now back on the horse in an upright position as if she had never fallen down in the first place.

Daphne's eyes narrowed. She hadn't missed the telltale glimpse of purple that had surrounded her for a brief second before fading away into nothingness.

"Shit."

"Shit indeed," came the familiar voice. "And that refers to what an utterly shitty escape artist you are, sunshine."

Like a predator, Daphne caught sight of Atticus's golden eyes first. They were like two orbs of sunlight, glowing in the dark. Then slowly, the silvery moonlight illuminated his face, slowly showing his features as he leisurely walked out of the shadows.

Daphne's body went rigid. She didn't miss the sight of his lips, curved into a sinister grin.

"Funny thing," Atticus said with a chuckle. "I keep seeing a certain blonde woman attempting to escape via horseback. Yet, the horse she picked didn't seem to be too… persuaded, causing her to fall off with depressing regularity. I wonder why."