Chapter 41 The Show Must Go On

Chapter 41 The Show Must Go On

"Do you even know what you could've done?!" Jonah all but shrieked at Atticus, who only lazily sat at the edge of the bed, squeezing the last drops of water out of his trousers. Once he was done, he stuck his pinkie into his ear and began to dig, looking at the nonexistent dirt on the tip of his finger. This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

"I knew when to stop..." Atticus murmured, appearing as nonchalant as ever when in truth, his heart was slowly starting to pick up its pace again.

The bout of cold water had only calmed him down for a brief moment. Now that he was starting to warm up, the feeling was returning slowly but surely. It was just that the only person he desired was long gone.

Away. Safe from him.

"He isn't fully to blame, Jonah," Sirona said. She walked over to Atticus, holding out a glass of water followed by a handkerchief. Once Atticus took the glass, she unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small, round pill inside. "The antidote," she explained.

Atticus took the pill and swallowed it without another word. As he gulped down the water, he could feel the liquid cool his throat with each mouthful. The burning ache in his body subsided quickly. He hadn't thought the antidote would be this effective, though he surely wasn't complaining.

"Maybe that would finally teach you not to bite off more than you can chew," Jonah grumbled. He stuck his hand into his pocket before pulling out a familiar peach-colored stone. It was nicely polished and had a slight sheen to it, no bigger than half of Atticus's palm.

"Yours," he said before tossing the sunstone over to Atticus. "Better not lose it again."

The latter caught it easily, quickly using it to dry his damp clothing followed by the sheets. A spark of brilliant orange danced across the room, causing heat to quickly spread across the furniture― enough to dry but not enough to cause great discomfort. The leftover warmth on the sheets after Atticus was done was soothing to the touch, almost as though it was the imprint of their body heat and not magic.

"I can't believe you two didn't stop her from feeding me an aphrodisiac." Atticus scoffed, slowly getting to his feet. "Or was that your initial idea with the 'prescription'? I love how you're trying to spice up my marriage." He threw that last part at Sirona, who only raised an eyebrow.

"The original tonic was meant to energize you," Sirona dully said. "It wasn't supposed to send you into heat like some rabid animal."

"Then what happened?"

"The original recipe called for aedrove vines," Sirona explained. "The queen asked what else could be added to worsen its flavor. And if you'd asked me, I would say you deserved it. Briscusberries then came into the equation."

"Ugh..." Atticus grumbled, running his hand down his face. Having once worked with Sirona temporarily during his younger days, Atticus was more or less well-versed in herbology. It didn't take long for him to piece two and two together.

"And you didn't stop her?" he asked, glaring incredulously at his old friend. "Aedrove vines and briscusberries could prove to be disastrous. I thought you two of all people would know that!"

That was a good question. Atticus had never thought about it. Why did it matter so much that Daphne was in love with him when she was just a pawn and he was just her captor?

Out of nowhere, Sirona smirked. Then, her smile broadened until it was eventually accompanied by a light chortle.

"My my, Your Majesty," she cooed. "Don't tell me. Have you fallen in love with her?"

"Fallen?" Atticus echoed with a guffaw. "In love?" He fell into a full fit of laughter, clutching his belly as he toppled back. "Have you forgotten who I am?"

He was Vramid's king. Cold-hearted, callous, and cruel. He could not be in love with his wife. "You're an idiot that's willing to fake illness so that your wife will fall in love with you," Sirona said unflinchingly.

"That does seem very damning. The Atticus I know from before would have simply ignored his wife if he didn't love her," Jonah added.

"Look at the two of you, scolding me in tandem." Atticus taunted. "One might think you are a couple lecturing their wayward son."

"You―" Jonah's ears burned because of course Atticus would bring up his old feelings for Sirona at the worst possible time. He glanced at Sirona from the corner of his eyes, but she simply rolled her eyes, more exasperated at the teasing. That hurt him more than any words Atticus could say. "Please, if you were my son I would have you over my knee and spanked you. What a brat!" Sirona scolded.

"Ooooh, how salacious. Is there something you wish to tell me?" Atticus waggled his eyebrows. "Have you been spanking the stableboys? Jonah is going to be so disappointed because he―"

"Atticus!" Jonah immediately leaped onto Atticus, slapping his hand over his mouth to stop him from speaking. "Shut it!" Atticus tried to pry him off, only for Jonah to knee him in the gut. He wheezed.

"You like―"

"Not as much as you―"

They began brawling like children at the schoolyard instead of solving conflicts like mature adults.

Meanwhile, Sirona frowned in confusion. There was no reason why Jonah would be disappointed that he wasn't getting spanked; he was a full-grown man, not a disobedient child. Clearly, Atticus was talking nonsense again. Her king had the tendency of running his mouth to distract people from asking questions he didn't want to answer.

Sirona then scoffed, watching the both of them tussle in bed, letting out suspicious groaning noises and messing up the bedsheets. The servants' rumor mill will be hard at work tomorrow. "If the both of you injure each other, I'm going to heal you the old-fashioned way." By throwing a roll of bandages at them and getting them to dress their own wounds.

"That's cold of you," Atticus said as he pinned Jonah down. Jonah retaliated by biting his arm, causing him to return the favor.

These are two of the most talented men in Vramid. Sirona sighed and shook her head. "The both of you are raised by wolves. I'll be going now. A word of warning, Atticus― when your wife decides to stab you in your bed, I'll only say 'I told you so'."