Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 563: Humble Abode

"Are you sure?" Atticus asked.

He could easily wave a hand and send his men to do the investigations, but Daphne and Cordelia had insisted on keeping the case down low. Jonah, unfortunately, had been stolen by that hateful princess and she refused to return him to his position as Atticus’s aide.

Otherwise, if Jonah hadn’t been assigned to menial tasks, Atticus was sure he would be able to investigate things more quickly than anyone on this god-forsaken island kingdom.

"I don’t know how deep Arne’s hands are in this, but his wife surely knows more than whatever she is letting on," Daphne insisted. She breathed out slowly, her eyes locking in on a building a short distance ahead.

They had gotten the records of Arne’s family home from the records, and with Cordelia’s blessing, Daphne and Atticus had set out to track them down. Daphne needed to find Phari first. She had combed through those letters that Phari brought upon their first meeting, and Daphne was sure that Phari hadn’t offered to show them every single one.

Some of the letters were hidden, and while they could’ve just been personal letters that weren’t for show to the public, Daphne found it questionable. After all, Cordelia hadn’t requested for the letters to be brought in the first place. Why bring it as though to prove something, only to purposely leave others out?

Whatever the reason, there was a nagging feeling in the back of Daphne’s skull, and she was determined to follow through.

Finally, they stopped in front of a quaint house. It was much flashier than an average commoner’s home, but it didn’t scream wealth like the houses of nobility. Daphne watched as a woman stepped out of the house, the evening sunlight seemingly showering a layer of glitter over her malted skin.

Daphne fiddled with the blue kyanite in her pocket. One small piece would be enough for this woman to spill her secrets. She needed to make sure Phari told them everything she knew― without withholding any bit of truth.

"We could just grab her," Atticus pointedly said, prepared to step forward, only to be pulled back by Daphne.

"No," Daphne said. "We cannot let their neighbors know that we are here with ill intent."

"Is it really ill intent?" Atticus asked. "No harm will come to her as long as she spills everything she knows."

"We also don’t wish to alert her sources in Santok," Daphne reminded.

"The borders are locked shut," Atticus said pointedly. "If they were able to exchange letters beforehand, now, there’s no possible way for the letters to be passed. Only the royal families will be able to contact one another."

That was true, but Daphne wasn’t about to take any chances. If they could lace a noble lady’s cake with kyanite dust, it would be more than easy to sprinkle some into Phari’s tea. If she somehow didn’t fall for it, then...

Violence wasn’t something Atticus abhorred, to say the least.

Daphne straightened her clothes and took the initiative to reach for Atticus’s hand, causing the latter to jolt in surprise. Her hands were warm and soft in his, and despite the humidity and the piercing summer heat, Atticus never wanted to let go. He squeezed Daphne’s fingers, and likewise, Daphne squeezed back although her gaze remained straight ahead.

They stopped at the gates that led to Phari and Arne’s front lawn, peering past the fences just in time to see Phari step out with a new basket of laundry.

"Phari, is it?" Daphne called out. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Upon hearing her voice, Phari jumped where she stood. She dropped the basket, but before it could land on the muddy pathways, Daphne reached a hand out. Instantly, a veil of shimmer covered the basket, holding it mere inches from the ground before automatically rising back into Phari’s trembling hands.

She stared at the basket that defied gravity, then at the man and woman who stood outside her front gates. Then, her eyes widened.

"King Atticus, Queen Daphne," she said, alarmed. "I― To what do I owe this pleasure?"

With the basket of laundry still in her hand, she quickly rushed to the gates.

"Please, come in," she said, holding the gate open for Daphne and Atticus to enter.

Daphne smiled pleasantly, nodding her head in thanks.

"I hope you don’t mind the intrusion," Daphne said. "We just have some extra questions we would like to ask about Santok’s princes if you don’t mind."

At the word ’princes’, Phari visibly relaxed. It didn’t escape either Atticus or Daphne’s eyes the way her shoulders slumped in relief as compared to the way it was tensed and raised before. Phari nodded and led them in.

"Please, have a seat," Phari said as she held the door open to reveal a cozy home.

It was neat and tidy, with well-crafted furniture that looked well-loved but still well-kept. The faint smell of freshly washed linens wafted, the remainder of Phari’s last household chore before their rude arrival.

"I’ll be with you shortly," she continued, gesturing to the basket of laundry. "I just need to―"

Before Phari could even finish her sentence, she felt her basket heat up. It didn’t grow unbearably hot, but the sensation certainly did surprise her. She looked at the pile of clothes in her hands, only to realize that they were no longer moist, but had turned toasty and dry in a matter of seconds.

"Consider this as an apology for interrupting your daily schedule," Atticus said.

Phari’s jaw hung agape until she realized it was rude to stare, and she quickly shook her head to dispel her previous confusion. She stepped fully into the house and shut the front doors, beaming in thanks.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed as she set the laundry down somewhere clean. "That shaved off plenty of work off my back..."

Atticus didn’t miss the tremble in Phari’s fingers as she busied about. She was scared by such blatant displays of magic.

Good. That was the point.

Phari dusted her hands before preparing a pot of tea. She quickly placed it on the dinner table in the kitchen, where she had sat Daphne and Atticus down previously.

"It’s not much, but Arne brought this back recently," Phari said with a nervous laugh. "It’s tea from home. Santok is known for their tea leaves, and this is one of my favorites."

A wonderful aroma rose into the air when Phari poured the tea into three separate cups, one for each of them.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Your Majesties," Phari said. She fidgeted with her apron, hesitant to sit even in her own home. "What can I help you with?"