Stolen by the Rebel King

Chapter 20: A Piece of Junk

"Oh, piss off." Daphne scowled. There was no need to be polite to her captor, and besides, the frequent falls have made her testy. That smirk on his face was also nipping at her patience. "Do you have nothing to do all day but torment me?"

"Why would I do anything else?" Atticus retorted. He shrugged. "Your escape attempts are a lot more entertaining than my minister's ideas for the ball. Please, get back on the horse. I'm looking forward to more performances. Up you go, yip yip."

And that infuriating man had the nerve to cross his arms, cocking his head expectantly after talking to her like she was a pet dog.

"Come on, get back on! Sable is waiting!"

Hearing her name, Sable turned to look at him and trotted over. Atticus broke into a handsome smile as he petted the horse, fishing out a slice of carrot from his pocket. New novel chapt𝒆rs are published on novel(b)in(.)com

"Awww my dearie, did this clumsy oaf hurt you when you threw her off? Poor baby, your back must be so tired from carrying her."

Sable neighed, as though in agreement.

"Excuse me? I hurt her?" Daphne cried out, giving the horse a betrayed look. "To think I've even fed you apples!"

Sable blinked, the very picture of innocence as she continued to nuzzle Atticus, hopeful for more treats.

"The loyalty of my subjects cannot be bought so easily. Sable is one of my favorite horses, of course she would listen to me over you."

Daphne begrudgingly accepted his point. She had only known Sable for a few days. At least King Atticus had good taste in horses.

"Sunshine, now that I see it, you have two choices. Continue your desperate attempts to escape, or… you can come with me as we try to figure out your latent magical abilities."

Daphne blinked, not believing her ears.

"You… you think I have magic?"

"Sunshine, you're all sorts of magical." Atticus drawled out as he looked at her intently. The look in his eyes was smoldering, with his gaze feeling like it could set fire to her skin wherever it touched, which she didn't know was a good thing or not.

Daphne pursed her lips. It sounded like he was making fun of her.

"I was right next to you when the toy started glowing," Atticus elaborated dryly when he realized his wife wasn't moving an inch. "It had to be magic, or we're both suffering from joint hallucinations. Rare, but not impossible."

"Fine. I get your point," Daphne said as she walked towards him. "How will you test me? I've been tested periodically through the years, but all of them gave the same result."

"Reaweth doesn't have a monopoly on magic," Atticus said, his eyes dark. Somehow, the air around him crackled, as though he was a lightning cloud ready to storm. "Whatever they can do, Vramid can do better."

"That's not true," Daphne said, feeling a need to defend her homeland. "Everyone knows harnessing gems as magical conduits originated from Reaweth. My ancestors were the original mages."

Atticus straight up snorted at her words. "And I'm sure your family farts roses and shits out gold too."

"You!" Daphne pointed an angry finger at him. "Don't be disrespectful!"

"My apologies." Atticus rolled his eyes. "I meant, your family's farts smell fragrant and they can use their shit to pad their treasury, how's that?"

"Urghhh!" Daphne scowled. This man was incorrigible. "Just because you phrased it all prim and proper doesn't mean it's any better!"

Her infuriation seemed to have delighted Atticus, for his lips curved into a smile.

"How did they test you? If you don't mind me asking."

Now it was Daphne's turn to roll her eyes. "You didn't care much for permission all those other times," she grumbled under her breath. Yet, she still answered his question. "I was eight when they made me take the first test. And I failed."

"Details, sunshine. How else am I supposed to help you?"

"I was tested two years earlier than the norm because of my older brother," she continued. "My older brother apparently could manifest fireballs when he was just five. Thus, my parents had high hopes for me."

"Ah, crown prince Alistair of Reaweth." Atticus clicked his tongue. "They continued testing you after, you said?"

Daphne nodded. "I could've been a late bloomer." She shrugged. "But when my sisters were born and one by one, they, too, could use magic, it became obvious that I wasn't going to start blooming anytime soon."

It seemed like everyone in the family was a magical prodigy. Some could light a candle with a flick of their fingers as a toddler, others could conjure butterflies from flames with just a burp or a giggle.

Daphne had never heard of any royalty that couldn't manifest the barest hint of magical ability as an adult― then again, she hadn't mingled with royalty from other kingdoms. No one wanted to speak to the poor, untalented princess who couldn't conjure up a single element.

"And they just gave up on you." It was a sentence, not a question. A dark look flashed across Atticus's face, almost as though he was angry. Though, Daphne wasn't sure why. "And you just let them?"

"It's hard to think anything else when all you've been told in life is that you're a failure," Daphne murmured. She took a deep breath, forcefully peeking up. "But I'm over it. I know now that my magical abilities will not define my worth. I'll just have to find something else I'm good at and they'll see me for more than that."

"You don't need their approval for anything you do in life, Daphne."

Daphne's gaze snapped towards Atticus sharply. That was the first time he had spoken her name with so much sincerity. She liked it, she decided. She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, especially when he wasn't speaking in a patronizing manner.

"Of course," she said. For a moment, she had forgotten about her situation. He wasn't her captor, she wasn't his prisoner, and they weren't kings or princesses from rivaling kingdoms. For a brief moment, Atticus was just someone that understood her. "Thank you."

He smiled. This time, it wasn't anything cunning or snarky. And that smile was so warm that it felt like a peck of sunshine.

"I have another question, though."

"What is it?"

Atticus furrowed his eyebrows. "If you are inept at using magic, why were you wearing that pendant on your first day here? You were reaching for it like it would aid you in battle."

"Oh! Oh." The mention of her necklace was a rude reminder of how it was utterly destroyed on her first night here. "Right. The one that you conveniently shattered. It was a gift from my sister. She said it would help me harness my magic quicker and I could use it to channel whatever latent magic I might have in times of need."

"What stone did you think it was, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Clear quartz." Daphne furrowed her eyebrows. "They help to release and regulate energy, right? Drusilla said it would help."

"It was a piece of junk," Atticus revealed. "No wonder you couldn't do any bit of magic."