Chapter 38 You Are The Cure

38 You Are The Cure

"What is that god-awful smell?" The skin between Princess Cordelia's eyebrows was knitted tightly together, her fingers blocking her nostrils as she glared hard at the bowl of bubbling, unknown liquid in Daphne's hands. "Are you trying to kill the king with this foul concoction?"

"Excuse me, I take umbrage with that statement." Daphne sniffed haughtily, purposely walking closer so that she was in between her lying husband and this interloper. Cordelia scooted back, nearly retching at the smell, and Atticus had all but plastered himself against the headboard of the bed, as though this would allow him to escape.

Foolish man. Daphne would rather down the entire tonic herself than to let Atticus off the hook. If she had to kill off her own sense of smell to get even, then so be it!

"That's my husband's tonic," Daphne said, taking special care to emphasize the word 'husband'. She fluttered her eyelashes innocently at Atticus, before turning to Cordelia. "Thank you for paying him a visit. Would you like a bowl of his tonic?"

"I would never dream of ingesting a tonic meant for the king." Daphne had to give Cordelia points for her composure; despite her disgust at the smell, she could still give Atticus a simpering glance.

Meanwhile, Atticus was torn between joy at being acknowledged as Daphne's husband, and terror at the contents of the bowl. Suddenly he was having second thoughts about his scheme.

He would rather fight an army barehanded than to drink this!

"My sunshine, I'm feeling a lot better than before. I hardly think this is necessary―"

Daphne scoffed internally. Of course he was feeling a lot better. Since the poison in his body didn't exist.

"No no, my dear husband, I insist," Daphne said, purposely making her eyes look bigger and more watery as her lips wobbled. Her husband wasn't the only liar in the room.

"Please? I made this specially for you." Daphne added pleadingly. "I want you to be well. You frightened me today."

"But I..."

Whatever rebuttal Atticus had fell flat when he saw the heartbroken look on Daphne's face. His wife was worried about him, so much so that she personally carried a piping hot bowl of what must be the most pungent tonic in the entire world for him to drink. She could have left the job to a servant or Jonah, but here she was, still staring hopefully at him.

Maybe there really was something wrong with him. He could feel his body getting warmer by the weight of her gaze.

"Only if you feed me then, my dear," Atticus said weakly. If he was going to suffer, he might as well get the most out of it.

"If you insist." Daphne sighed, sounding mightily reluctant, but she still scooped up a spoonful for him to drink. She even blew on it gently to cool it slightly, acting every inch the devoted wife.

"Here, husband," she said sweetly. Inside, Daphne was steaming with anger.

'Atticus, I'll make you drink every single drop of this tonic, even if I have to shove this entire bowl down your gullet. That's the least you owe me after all the tears I wasted on you!'

"Thank you, darling." Atticus croaked out and swallowed the spoonful reluctantly. Daphne watched him gag at the smell and taste and felt brief happiness at his self-made misfortune. n//Ove1b1n

She prepared another spoon.

Atticus opened his mouth and swallowed yet another mouthful. As he swallowed more of the tonic, he could feel his body growing increasingly feverish. His throat felt dry no matter how much tonic he drank.

There was a slow, insistent pounding in his head, and it seemed like liquid heat was coursing through his veins. At first, he thought that it was due to how hot the liquid was but his rational mind knew that it wasn't the only reason.

His heart began to race. His clothes felt like they were suddenly too small for him. He needed to tear them off― He needed someone― He needed―

Atticus shook himself out of it. He stared at the tonic. Could Daphne have poisoned him?

No, impossible.

He sucked in a breath, trying to calm down. If he was poisoned, he didn't need it racing through his body.

Unknown to him, Daphne was also feeling similar sensations. The smell from the tonic barely bothered her now, but every breath felt like it was setting her skin on fire. She shifted; the smooth silk of her dress had rubbed deliciously against the more sensitive parts of her body, causing her to gasp.

Atticus stared at her intensely, his pupils wide and dark with want. She couldn't tear her eyes away. Atticus licked at the corner of his lips and to Daphne's horror, a whimper escaped unbidden from her lips. Her mind couldn't help but think of other things Atticus could do with his tongue, things maidens and princesses were not supposed to even know.

What was happening to her?

"The both of you aren't looking well." Cordelia's voice cut through the tension like a knife. Atticus and Daphne were both startled with surprise. "Queen Daphne, didn't you claim that this was medicine? How does King Atticus look worse after ingesting it?"

True enough, there were beads of sweat forming on Atticus's forehead and his eyes were getting unfocused.

"No, this is medicine!" Daphne protested.

"And how would you know this? I doubt you have any experience with herbs." Cordelia smirked.

This was too easy― this new queen was an idiot. Cordelia had figured out that the tonic was actually a powerful aphrodisiac after Atticus had taken the first mouthful, and she was simply waiting for it to take effect. She simply needed the queen to panic and leave, so that Cordelia could offer to soothe the king's lust with her own body.

With any luck, she'll get a royal heir before the night is over!

"If I were you, I'd run straight to the healers and demand an explanation. Better hurry up, or else you might be hanged for murder," Cordelia added.

"I won't leave." Daphne steeled her gaze. "I don't know what you're planning, but you must think me a bigger fool if you expect me to leave my husband alone in a room with you."

Cordelia's face purpled. "You're such a―"

"And might I remind you that you're speaking to my wife. I would never charge her for murder," Atticus said hoarsely.

He gathered all his remaining strength and pushed himself out of bed, surprising both women.

"Now get out before I get the guards to throw you out," Atticus said to Cordelia, his voice carrying a bit of warning.

"I can help! Wait! How dare you treat me like this!" Cordelia protested, but Atticus refused to hear anything more.

He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. Daphne being the loving spouse she was, eagerly helped him. Cordelia struggled harder, but she was no match for the both of them.

Atticus slammed the door shut in her face. He then lay against the door, panting in exhaustion.

"Atticus, you're ill," Daphne whispered. There was no denying it. Atticus who could normally take down a party of assassins was now winded after pushing a woman out of his room. Once again she began to feel guilty, and then angry at herself and at Sirona.

Didn't she say that this wouldn't harm him? What was this then?

"I'll go get a cure from Sirona. Please wait."

But before she could open the door, Atticus grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her soft skin. She cried out in surprise.

"No need. You―" Atticus panted, his face flushed and eyes hooded. He could barely look straight. His entire body felt weak, burned by an itch that wouldn't go away. Even breathing became difficult for him. "You are the cure."