Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 536: Unlikely Suspect

"You mean it? There’s a vacancy for me?" Nikun leaped up in excitement, nearly vibrating with joy.

Daphne and Atticus were in Nikun’s cabin to deliver the news that he was able to participate. In fact, Cordelia wanted him to move into the newly vacated room by tomorrow morning, the latest.

Yael’s death was a tragedy, but she supposed that there was at least a silver lining after all. Nikun’s hard work would finally see some form of reward now that his participation in the contest was all but guaranteed.

According to the servants, Nikun had spent the whole time on the ship, locked alone in his cabin as he studied the material for hours, and then he apparently went swimming in the sea to cool down.

"Don’t look too happy about it," Atticus said, narrowing his eyes. "You got your opening because someone happened to commit a murder. If you don’t wisen up, that might be you next."

"Someone died?" Nikun exclaimed, horrified. His eyes widened in shock. "My condolences, but who was it? Who did it?"

"That’s what we’re trying to find out," Daphne said. "We suspect there might be a noble or two that isn’t too happy about Cordelia’s open invite. So make sure to keep yourself safe out there. We can’t protect you."

Nikun nodded somberly. "I understand. I guess me being a bastard prince would not win me any favors."

"No, it would not," Atticus agreed. "Too noble for the commoners, yet too common for the nobles. You have a tough road ahead of you. Not to mention you’ll be staying in the room where he was murdered," Atticus added. "Best hope the culprit doesn’t come back for an encore."

Nikun paled, but he still tried to put on a brave face. "Thank you for telling me. I’m very grateful for the chance! I’ll go and... and... pack first. And then practice more. Yes."

"You do that," Daphne said indulgently and they left his room.

Atticus had a slight frown on his face.

"What’s the matter?" Daphne asked. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"I can’t help thinking that I’m missing something," Atticus said, glancing back at Nikun’s door. He lowered his voice, "Isn’t it an awful coincidence that someone happened to be killed, freeing up a spot, just in time for him to take his place?"

"You suspect Nikun killed him?" Daphne asked in a shocked whisper. The thought never crossed her mind. "How could he make it back in time?"

Nikun was skilled, but even Daphne doubted that he could make his way to the palace unnoticed in his first attempt, kill a man, and then escape by swimming back to their ship. Atticus had shared with her the findings of their investigation, and Daphne figured that the culprit was either still in hiding, or dead beneath the waves.

"Not personally." Atticus bowed her head closer to hers. If Nikun were to open his door and peer out, he would assume that they were speaking sweet nothings to each other. "But he does have ties to royalty. I wouldn’t put it past him to contact some of the nobles to make up a spot, in exchange for favors later."

"But he’s a bastard. He can’t promise anything."

"They don’t know that," Atticus huffed. "You think this pack of idiots knows which way is up?"

Princess Cordelia had put it best― if the brains of her nobility were harvested and stuffed into fish, those fishes would drown in water. It was such an apt description of noble society back in Vramid that Atticus was only upset that he had not coined this insult first.

"They’re not going to risk Cordelia’s wrath to do this. Their futures are at stake," Daphne reminded him. Someone had to be the voice of reason.

"Why would they help him, when doing so would mean disadvantaging themselves? A bastard prince is a lot more difficult to beat than a regular commoner. And he has no money to even bribe them with. Now all he has is his word against theirs."

Atticus frowned. "You have a point. But there’s just something off about him. I can’t put my finger on it."

"Then we’ll get Jonah to keep a close eye on him," Daphne decided. Atticus had good instincts, but he wasn’t infallible. "All for Cordelia’s safety―"

The door opened, and Daphne nearly leaped up in surprise, her hands grabbing the lapels of Atticus’s shirt. Meanwhile, Atticus instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her, causing their noses to touch.

A rosy flush bloomed on her face as she found herself face-to-face with her husband.

"I’m sorry!" Nikun all but squeaked out as he did his best to pretend he wasn’t staring at them. A futile attempt, since his eyes kept darting from their faces, to the floor, and then back to their faces again.

Daphne could not tell if her own face was redder than Nikun’s.

"I didn’t see anything, please, continue with what you were doing. I’m nothing but a piece of cloth drifting in the wind―"

With that final babble, Nikun slammed his door shut.

Daphne heaved a sigh of relief.

"Still think this man is a killer?" Daphne whispered, glancing at the closed door.

"Maybe not," Atticus reluctantly admitted. "But he’s on thin ice."

Then, Daphne realized the predicament she found herself in. With Atticus’s handsome face looming in front of her, and his arm a firm brace around her waist, Daphne felt an entire spring’s worth of butterflies frantically fluttering in her stomach. She slowly loosened the iron grip on his shirt, but she couldn’t help but instinctively smooth over the wrinkles formed by her hands.

Atticus let out a low, pleased hum that sent tingles all over her.

This was so embarrassing, she mused despairingly to herself. Atticus was her husband, for crying out loud. Why was she so affected by a simple touch, by a simple sound, when they had done a lot more scandalous acts in bed? When they had said even filthier things to each other under the cover of the night?

Unbidden, she recalled the time when he pressed a kiss on the back of her hand under the moonlight.

"Why the red face, sunshine?" Atticus asked, amused at the way his wife seemed to splutter and suddenly lose the ability to look him in the eye.

The bridge between them was mending faster than he expected. Daphne was slowly falling in love with him again, and he couldn’t be happier about it. If all it took for them to bond were some murder investigations, he would personally hire a fleet of assassins to kill off every competitor until Daphne fell into his arms again.

On second thought, Daphne would definitely disapprove.

"It’s a hot day," Daphne squeaked out, before twisting herself from his hold. Atticus let her, half-amused and half-wondering what she would do. "I’m gonna go for dinner― Yes... dinner is important―" Daphne said as she began to walk in a random direction.

"Sunshine?"

"What?" Daphne asked, whirling around.

"The kitchen is the other way." Atticus smiled smugly. His wife was just too cute at times, it made him want to do very unwise things. "Do you want me to guide you there?"

"No, thank you!"