Stolen by the Rebel King

34  Sirona’s Schemes

"I-Intercourse?!" Daphne echoed in shock. Instantly, the color of her face changed to that of a beetroot― so red that it was borderline purple.

"Yes," Sirona breezily replied. "Magic fatigue paired with physical exertion would harm most people. And that's the case with His Majesty."

"Physical exertion?"

"A problem commonly found in newlyweds," the doctor said impishly, watching as Atticus seemed to twitch on the bed. Queen Daphne's face had gotten even worse, if that was even possible. "Perhaps you should take it easy this month. I'll prescribe the King with a series of tonics."

"Actually… Atticus and I… His Majesty and I… Well…"

Sirona had to fight so hard against her instincts to maintain the act. Watching the queen stumble and trip over her own words was so entertaining that she had nearly cooed out loud.

So innocent, so untainted by the evils ― Atticus ― of the world. It was practically a miracle!

"There's no need to be bashful," Sirona teased. Then, she winked. "I get it."

Daphne's lips were pursed so quickly and tightly that her teeth pressed down on them. She wanted to burst, combust, wither away into a pile of ashes and smoke and never to be seen by anyone ever again. If only someone from her family could set her alight there and then. Surely dying would be less embarrassing than having her non-existent sex life discussed so openly.

"When will he wake up?" Jonah asked.

His one simple question made Daphne feel as though he truly was a knight in shining armor, valiantly riding on his white stallion to save her from eternal damnation. A tear nearly formed in her eye, touched beyond belief.

'Oh Jonah,' she solemnly swore in her heart, 'I will definitely repay you one day for this!'

Sirona's lips twitched, visibly disappointed that the suggestive conversation had been cut short so quickly. Nevertheless, she wasn't interested in making the queen too uncomfortable.

"Give it a couple of hours," she said, waving it off. She then followed up with a softer tone, careful to only let Jonah hear her. "Or seconds."

"Thank you, Healer Sirona."

The earnest look of gratitude in Daphne's eyes almost made Sirona feel bad for agreeing to play along. Almost. She really looked like a little rabbit, wide-eyed and small, so fragile that she's basically an easy prey to everyone in this castle.

Sirona's heart clenched a little, though she was careful not to let it show. The king had better guard his little wife well, lest she be swallowed whole by the beasts within these walls.

She took the notepad from her briefcase and pulled a pen out as well, quickly scribbling down some things before handing the slip of paper over to Jonah. Jonah reached out, but Sirona hadn't waited for him to properly grasp onto the paper before letting go. Jonah swiped at the air, accidentally grabbing Sirona's hand along with the prescription.

"My apologies!" Jonah said, and Daphne didn't miss the slight flush of his cheeks. On the other hand, Healer Sirona looked completely unfazed, merely wiping her fingers on her dress.

"It's fine. Do take care not to crush it."

Jonah nodded, glancing at the paper. His left eyebrow rose, and his eyes darted up to cast a pointed look at the healer, as though he was questioning her expertise.

"It will be good to brew that for the king," Sirona said with a bright smile. "Could help him recuperate much faster than without."

Jonah said nothing. Yet, the look he gave Sirona was enough for Daphne to know that whatever prescription she had written there was definitely not something enjoyable to consume, if any medicine was at all.

"Is there anything wrong, Jonah?" Daphne asked, curious. She stepped a little closer to peep at whatever could be written on the slip of paper, but Jonah quickly darted away, holding it out of view.

"Never mind, Your Highness," he said. He was about to crush the prescription, but then a quick look at Sirona stilled his hand, and he proceeded to fold it properly before stuffing it into the pocket of his trousers. "It's just a prescription, like Healer Sirona said."

"Alright…" she trailed off, still staring suspiciously at the two. Later, she would grill Jonah about his strange behavior.

However, with regards to the prescription, she had no right to butt in. After all, Daphne wasn't too familiar with tonics and brews, and thus wouldn't know better than Sirona on what would be of help to her husband. She could only trust her, since Sirona was the most experienced in the castle.

"If that's all, I will be taking my leave. Pardon me, Your Highness." Leaning down, Sirona gathered her belongings, casually swinging the bag over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.

"I'll escort you." Jonah offered, but he was easily rebuffed.

"Sir Jonah, that's not necessary. Prepare his medicine instead."

Right before she left, she turned back and smiled. "Oh, just a quick reminder, do make sure the brew is piping hot when it's served to His Majesty! It mustn't be consumed cold."

With her final instructions, Sirona slipped out of the room, whistling a jolly tune under her breath as she left. Her servants followed, exiting the room with a lot less fanfare.

"Well then," Jonah sighed, "I'll be in the kitchens should you require my assistance, Your Highness. Healer Sirona's instructions were to brew this three times a day for the next week for His Majesty. Mustn't miss a dose."

The poor knight had a hand pinching the skin in between his brows, rubbing away at the oncoming headache.

Daphne grimaced. "That bad?"

Jonah could only fake a smile. "I will return shortly."

Once Jonah, too, left the room, all that was left behind was silence.

Daphne stared at the unconscious man on the bed. He was calm, almost too calm. In his sleep, King Atticus looked nothing like the bloodthirsty monster of the North, as rumors had made him out to be.

All of a sudden, the princess gained a stroke of courage. She stepped forward, carefully sitting at the edge of the bed, just far enough not to accidentally crush Atticus.

Daphne hadn't even noticed that she had been so enraptured by his appearance that she had been leaning forward. Her hand had reached out without conscious thought, her fingers just a hair's breadth away from grazing the skin of his cheeks. She was so close that she could clearly count each strand of his eyelash, see every minute scar on a face that she thought was perfect from a distance away.

Everything about the king was mesmerizing. It was unfair. Crystals and magic stones had always been the most powerful artifacts to ever exist across the kingdoms. To be able to control them would be to have the power to beckon hurricanes and move mountains.

Yet, Daphne understood that King Atticus, with all his power and might, had something else that defied all mortals. He was like a siren that lured sailors into the dark, unknown waters― a monster that was threatening to consume her whole.

Just before her fingers could graze him, fingers suddenly wrapped around Daphne's wrist in a strong grip. She jolted, stunned, and was snapped out of her reverie.

When her vision shifted to her wrist, Daphne finally put together the puzzle pieces to who that hand belonged to.

"Touchy, aren't we, sunshine?"