Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 557: A Mere Lord

"Cordelia, what is going on?" Daphne asked, helplessly watching as the palace guards circled Nikun and brought out the chains.

The poor man looked equally confused, his line of sight darting left and right as he sought for answers but found none. Cordelia’s eyebrows were crumpled tightly together and her lips were sealed shut. Seeing that she wouldn’t say anything anytime soon, Daphne looked to Jonah.

"Jonah?"

"Later, Your Majesty," Jonah said, his eyes roaming the crowd that was watching the disturbance. "Perhaps somewhere a little more private."

With that said, Daphne could only stand and watch as the guards brought Nikun away. As he was pulled along, he turned back and looked at Daphne. For a brief second, there was a flash of betrayal that darted through his eyes, but it quickly disappeared when the guards knocked his head to urge him to move along faster.

Daphne wanted to follow them, but it would be the height of foolishness. She hoped the guards wouldn’t rough him up too badly.

"Come on, let’s go to my chambers," Cordelia ordered, but before she could turn, Lord Waylen strode up to her impudently, barring her from leaving. Daphne raised an eyebrow at his audacity; she didn’t know whether to applaud him for his courage in approaching Cordelia when she was on a warpath or be stunned by his idiocy.

"Lord Waylen, kindly step aside," Cordelia said evenly.

Lord Waylen refused to budge, holding out his hands. "Princess Cordelia, you owe all of us an explanation. We just saw a fellow competitor led out in chains. Does that mean that Nikun Anurak is no longer in the contest?"

Scratch that, Lord Waylen was just an idiot. Cordelia sucked in a deep breath as she closed her eyes, mentally praying for patience.

"You’re a smart man, Lord Waylen, I’m sure you can form your own inferences regarding the situation," Cordelia retorted icily. "Now, I must be on my way. Enjoy the rest of the banquet."

Ignoring the implicit dismissal in Cordelia’s words, Lord Waylen continued to speak. A smug grin formed across his face, and he puffed his chest out.

"I knew that man wasn’t anyone trustworthy... Princess Cordelia, perhaps you should have been more discerning with the candidates you allowed in your competition. Who knows the kind of riff-raff that has infiltrated such a prestigious event?"

Cordelia’s eyelid twitched. One such riff-raff was standing right in front of her, lecturing her on how she should run her kingdom. If she had to include him in her ministers, she would order a gag for him. "I’ll take that into consideration."

Lord Waylen opened his mouth, presumably to continue lecturing, but Daphne eagerly linked her arms with Cordelia as a form of distraction. There had already been one murder since the contest started, but if Lord Waylen did not shut his mouth, Nedour’s own princess would add to that number.

"I find myself tired of the excitement. Cordelia, do you wish to accompany me to retire early?" Daphne asked sweetly, feigning a yawn. Her fingers gripped Cordelia’s arm tightly, a wordless reminder for her not to shed blood in her own ballroom.

"Of course," Cordelia said, grateful for the distraction. "Excuse us, Lord Waylen."

"If I may, Princess Cordelia," Lord Waylen said, eyeing Daphne with a slight sneer. "Outsiders shouldn’t be interfering with the inner politics of Nedour. This concerns our kingdom, and the members of royalty from other kingdoms should not be snubbing their noses where they didn’t belong."

From a short distance away, Daphne quickly felt the heat of Atticus’s gaze.

Scratch that. It wasn’t just the heat of his gaze but also the heat of the glowing fireball that was starting to grow in the palm of his hands. Daphne had to turn to him and subtly shake her head to get him to step down, but Lord Waylen seemed to be completely unaware of the fact that he had just signed his death warrant.

He opened his mouth to continue but was quickly stopped by Jonah, who stepped forward.

"And who might you be to make demands of the Princess?" Jonah said, staring cooly at Lord Waylen as though he was a snail that had stained his shoe.

"W-What?" Lord Waylen spluttered, but he quickly regained his bearing, his lips curdling. "I am a noble of Nedour. Who are you to speak to me that way?" He stepped forward and pressed a finger against Jonah’s chest, jabbing at his flesh.

Good heavens. If Atticus had been pissed before, he was murderous now. He stomped his way over, but before he had the luxury of cracking open Lord Waylen’s skull like he would’ve absolutely loved to, Jonah slapped Lord Waylen’s hand away.

"I am a member of the Princess’s personal security team," Jonah calmly replied, "Princess Cordelia’s most trusted advisor, a member of her court. Questioning me would be equivalent to questioning the Princess."

He then sweetly turned to Cordelia, bearing a charming smile. If it weren’t for the current situation, Atticus might’ve even gotten a heart attack thinking Jonah was flirting with Cordelia. But now that there was a pest in their midst, everyone could put aside their grievances for the sake of stomping it flat.

"Isn’t that right, Your Highness?"

Cordelia nodded, pleased with Jonah’s response. She said nothing more, merely folding her arms across her chest.

She wanted to watch and see what Jonah would do in such a situation. As much as she would’ve loved for him to rule Nedour by her side, she needed to see if he was worthy to be king. Jonah was definitely worthy to be her man, but to be the ruler of a kingdom... that was something else altogether.

So far, Cordelia liked what she saw.

"On the other hand, your nobility is granted by the royal family," Jonah said, turning to look back at Lord Waylen. "Unless, perhaps you are tired of your status and wealth and would like to forfeit it? That would indeed grant you about five minutes in heaven to spill whatever nonsense you wish―"

Jonah’s bright smile then darkened into a cruel grin. Even Daphne and Atticus felt a shiver run down their spines. They had known Jonah for a long while — Atticus for seemingly all his life — but despite the role Jonah played in Atticus’s army during their youth, there was a dangerous edge in his eyes that Atticus hadn’t seen in Jonah in a long long time.

Maybe there was something in Nedour’s water that brought out the savagery in him, but Atticus knew deep down that the reason had to do with a certain blue-haired princess who was shooting adoring looks at his best friend from the corner of her eyes.

"―before spending the rest of your miserable life in the prisons."