Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 527: Adrift

"Daphne, wait!" Atticus futilely called after her while running behind. His wife, however, paid no heed, ever ready to be the hero whenever a person was in need. "We’re not sure whether or not it’s safe to approach him―"

"Oh, come on, Atticus," Daphne said, turning back her head for only a split second. She arrived at the man’s side, kneeling down immediately so that she could take a better look. "There is nothing and no one who could possibly be dangerous in the face of both of us combined!"

That, Atticus had nothing to argue against.

Daphne frowned, examining the man carefully. His face was ghastly pale, resembling a ghost of the seas, while his lips had turned a shade of purple. When Daphne reached out and pressed a hand against his cheek, she immediately pulled back in shock. The man was as cold as a block of ice!

"Good gods..." Atticus muttered under his breath. He came over to his wife, slightly tugging her back to create some distance between her and the mysterious stranger she had pulled from the waves. "Don’t just go touching him! What if he’s actually a sea monster in disguise? Or some form of ghoul that is trying to lure you down into the sea?"

Daphne merely rolled her eyes, but a small appreciative smile curled her lips. She understood that this was just her husband attempting to show his concern for her, so she merely tapped her hand gently. No words needed to be exchanged; Atticus immediately knew what she wanted to say and huffed as he let go of her hand.

"Perhaps he has water stuck in his lungs," Daphne murmured under her breath.

Placing her hand against the man’s chest, her fingers began to glow in a pale, shimmery, pearlescent light. Her eyes widened as she felt something, and immediately made a pinching motion, moving her hands over to the man’s throat then to his lips. A huge mouthful of seawater was withdrawn from his mouth, and almost instantly after, the man jerked up and began to cough the remaining droplets out.

Wordlessly, Atticus pulled Daphne back into his embrace once more, protectively stepping forward so that if the man was indeed — even though they both knew it was more than unlikely — a monster of some kind, he would first face Atticus’s wrath.

However, the man remained a man, admittedly waterlogged and on the verge of death. He gazed up blearily at the two of them, his voice a hoarse croak.

"Am I dead?" he asked, his voice still a little hoarse as he had just woken up, pulled from the arms of death.

"What do you think?" Atticus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I don’t know," the man said piteously. His eyes turned to Daphne and he let out a quiet sigh. "It’s not every day that a beautiful angel saves me from a watery grave. Or are you escorting me to the afterlife?"

Atticus’s eyebrow twitched. This fiend had barely regained consciousness and he was already flirting with his wife! He wanted to toss him back into the ocean and sweep him into the depths of the stormy sea, but doing so would destroy whatever incremental progress he made with Daphne.

Thankfully, Daphne did not entertain his nonsensical rambling. She merely peered down at him and smiled. "You are in the world of the living. I am Queen Daphne, and this is my husband, King Atticus. My husband and I―"

Atticus straightened his shoulders smugly, making sure to stare down impressively at the drenched man lying on the floor.

Daphne had introduced them by their titles, and more importantly, she introduced him as her husband, so this upstart better banish whatever lecherous thoughts he had of Daphne into the gutter before Atticus threw his decaying body there. Only a fool would not recognize the names of such renowned royalty.

Atticus didn’t like to toot his own horn, but being one of the only two magic users in the world gave him a certain level of infamy he exploited without mercy. Everyone across the human world would’ve heard of his name whether they liked it or not.

Of course, that assumed this man had enough sense to begin with. Atticus personally doubted it, but said man paled immediately after hearing their names, quailing at the strength of his gaze, refusing to look at him.

Atticus noted with delight that that man didn’t dare to stare at Daphne either. His flirtatious gaze had suddenly turned wary, almost afraid.

Good. Atticus liked that. He liked it very much, so much so that he smiled a little too smugly.

That little action was not missed by Daphne, and she rolled her eyes before continuing to address the waterlogged stranger.

"―saved you from drowning. If you don’t mind, could you introduce yourself?"

The man smiled tremulously. "I’m Nikun, the Prince of Santok. It is an honor to be saved by King Atticus and yourself. This humble self thanks you from the bottom of my heart. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please name it."

Before Daphne could react, Atticus cut in with a derisive snort. "You’re awfully far away from home."

"Don’t be rude," Daphne scolded, but Atticus sneered.

"Daphne, this man is a liar, a con artist masquerading as a prince. Step away from him," Atticus warned, pulling Daphne away from him even though he knew she was perfectly capable of looking after herself.

The shadow of Jean Nott lingered over them still, and Atticus would be damned if he let another conniving bastard plant himself in Daphne’s inner circle. His sweet darling wife might be innocent and looked at the world with wide-eyed wonder, but he would be damned if he didn’t at least protect her while she was out exploring the world.

"Why?" Daphne asked.

"I’ve never been to Santok before, but even I know Santok’s royal family boasts only three sons and a bevy of daughters, none of which bears the name ’Nikun’." Atticus narrowed his eyes. "Out with it, who are you?"