Sarah Moore
Stories
9
Chapters
5,025
Words
52.7 K
Comments
0
Reading
4 h, 23 m
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"My dear husband, I'm glad you asked." Daphne placed her much smaller hand in his, willing herself not to flinch as he placed his other hand on her waist. There were countless eyes staring at her, waiting for her to make a mistake. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Atticus took a step forward, and they were off. Daphne felt years of dance practice take over instinctively, as she matched his movements step for step, beat for beat, in unison to the melody of the violins. Her dress flared out as…-
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The carriages began rolling in when the sun began to set, and Daphne watched with no small amount of interest at the difference in carriage designs. There was a sigil on top of each carriage, and they seemed to be based on animals. From her room, she could spot a hawk, a bear, and even a fox. How interesting. Reaweth had nothing like this. The sight of never-ending carriages lining the path did cause a pit to grow at the bottom of her stomach. These were Atticus' people, and they would be her people…
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For a man of royalty, Atticus was a king that prided himself on maintaining a cool head on numerous occasions. He had been in battles, fought wars, handled the court, and been through many other things that would've been the end of him if he had let himself slip. So, it was rather odd that it took as little as a lady asking for help to cause his face to burn bright red like a beetroot. "Pardon?" Atticus asked. "You want me to do what?" "Do me up," she repeated. "My laces, I mean. I can't properly…
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Piece of junk… Daphne's heart dropped as his words reverberated in her mind. "How could this be? You must be lying." Daphne shook her head furiously. "What reason do I have to lie to you?" Atticus pointed out. "If anything, I'd keep you powerless and ignorant. That'll make it easier to control and imprison you." "Thank you for that consideration," Daphne replied, slightly appeased. "Could it be that clear quartz just wasn't the right stone for me?" "Perhaps. I wouldn't know. The pendant…
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"Oh, piss off." Daphne scowled. There was no need to be polite to her captor, and besides, the frequent falls have made her testy. That smirk on his face was also nipping at her patience. "Do you have nothing to do all day but torment me?" "Why would I do anything else?" Atticus retorted. He shrugged. "Your escape attempts are a lot more entertaining than my minister's ideas for the ball. Please, get back on the horse. I'm looking forward to more performances. Up you go, yip yip." And that…
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In the days leading up to the ball, Daphne played her part as the dutiful princess. It wasn't hard to slip back into the skin of her past self, and it helped that somehow, every servant seemed to hold her opinion in high regard. If Daphne made an off-hand comment about the color of the tablecloths not suiting the ambiance, the tablecloths were changed without question. She didn't even have this much power at home! Hence she grew very careful about using her words. Instead, she decided to ask Maisie…
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"What are we going to do about these?" Jonah asked, staring cautiously at the bag of toys. From afar, they were harmless little toys. But with those crystals in them, there was no saying what could be done if it landed in the hands of someone more sinister than a child. While it was true only nobility had the ability to wield magic, there were also many abandoned children conceived from romps, some led astray. "Let's see if that man returns for his stones," Atticus said, scratching his chin.…
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"Princess! You've returned safely!" Maisie wailed in relief when she saw Atticus and Daphne arrive back at the castle. She had been anxiously pacing a hole in the courtyard, waiting for the princess to return. When she had realized the princess had left for the Winter Fair, she had been beside herself with horror. The princess was dressed as a maid and had no money! The weather was cold and she had no cloak! What if she got conned by dishonest vendors? What if unrighteous men lusted after her beauty and…
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Atticus spluttered as he coughed out a mouthful of snow, only for Daphne to grab another handful and shove it down his shirt. The cold caused him to let out an undignified shriek; he immediately channeled his powers through the sunstone in his pocket, suffusing his body with a warmth that melted the offending snow. He bared his teeth, ready for battle. Even if the opponent was his wife, he wasn't going to show her any mercy! But when he was about to strike, he was struck dumb by the sound of her…
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"Tell me." "I… there was a traveler that stopped by my farm," the seller started to say. "He helped us craft some of the more intricate toys in exchange for our sheep's wool. When he heard about my problem, he offered to give me some of his own stones." She paused, hesitating. "He said he found them by the ocean, when the tide was gone." Atticus clenched his fist. Great. Someone had infiltrated his kingdom, possibly using his own helpless citizens to smuggle precious gems into his country. This…
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