saltedpepper

As a princess who could not wield magic, Princess Daphne’s only value to her kingdom was her arranged marriage. The task was simple, but when Daphne was kidnapped and brought to the cold mountains of Vramid, she realized that she was in over her head. 

She had heard of these cursed mountains before― rocky terrain, freezing temperatures, and the land was ruled by a man feared by many within the continent.

King Atticus Heinvres, the blood-thirsty ruler of the North.

Even though she had never met him before, tales were spread of King Atticus’s ruthlessness. Some said he was a monster, others claimed he was the devil himself, but whatever the story was, everyone knew of the man who had powers beyond anyone’s imagination. He could topple armies and crumble nations with just one wave of his hand, aided by what others rumored to be a cursed obsidian ring.

No one outside of Vramid had ever met the fearsome king before. Not until Daphne.

However, upon meeting the formidable man, Daphne found out that the king might not really be the monster others had claimed him to be.

In fact, what was hidden under that obsidian shield could just be a diamond in the rough.

―

[Excerpt]


“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.” 

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?” 

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”  
 
“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once. 

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles. 

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out. 

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

―

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Stolen by the Rebel King

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"No!" Atticus immediately said, slamming against his desk so hard that it nearly broke into two.

From the corner, Sirona didn't even flinch. She simply reached out to steady the vial that nearly tipped over due to the tremors that shook the room from that one punch. Then, she returned to scribbling in her notebook, completely ignoring whatever it was the two men — or boys, in her humble opinion — were talking about.

"I have to say, whatever she suggested is reasonable to an extent," Jonah said, rubbing the skin between his eyebrows. "You're not going to find anyone more suitable, especially someone whom you can trust."

"Over my dead body," Atticus said with a growl. "No way I am letting you go under her covers. We don't know what she might be secretly plotting."

"The only thing she might be plotting would just be exactly that," Sirona said with a snort. "Getting Jonah under her covers."

Fit For The Job