"Forgotten?" Sirona echoed in shock. She shook her head incredulously, blinking rapidly as her mind worked double-ti to process the information she had just learned. "She shouldn’t have hit her head during the fall― there were no injuries to imply that. It couldn’t have been a concussion."
"I know," Atticus said. He ran a hand down his face in exasperation, sighing loudly. "But I was speaking to her for a short while before you arrived. From what she said, it doesn’t seem like she rembers the miscarriage. Or even the baby being conceived in the first place, in fact."
"What makes you say that?"
"Shouldn’t her first instinct be to ask for the baby’s condition?" Atticus pointed out. "She ntioned none of it, even when she recalled the fall and Jean Nott’s attack."
"This..." Sirona trailed off.
She had heard of similar things and had even encountered similar situations. Working for the army, she had seen her fair share of life and death on the battlefield. More than once, she had witnessed people forgetting friends, allies, and even family mbers whose lives were claid due to the brutality of war.
That was the way a human mind could help the physical body to cope with loss, especially when there were more pressing matters on hand, such as to heal any injuries sustained. So things were better forgotten than rembered. Not all losses were lessons.
"Do you think it’s an act?" Sirona quietly asked after a mont of thought.
"I don’t think so," he responded. "There’s no need to. Furthermore," Atticus took a deep breath, then continued, "I don’t think it’s possible to put up an act like that. Not so soon after waking up. She would have to regulate all of her emotions, pain, and loss, before gathering enough ntal strength to pretend that everything is alright."
He then shrugged and said, "Seems unnecessary and out of character. Daphne isn’t the sort to sche. Not like this."
"In that case, this would be for the better," Sirona said.
"Yes," Atticus said with a nod. "She doesn’t have to rember. Let the others know as well to never bring this up in front of her ever again."
"What about you?"
"What about ?" Atticus echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Will you be alright?" Sirona asked. "That baby was as much yours as it was hers. You’ve locked yourself in your room for the last few days, erging only for food or to visit Daphne. If she no longer rembers, that ans that you will be grieving alone."
"What’s done is done," Atticus said. He looked away, his gaze hardened but afraid to et Sirona’s eyes. "I would rather hurt alone than let her feel the pain."
Sirona nodded in understanding. It had always been in Atticus’s personality to play the villain if that was what the world needed. There were always bigger goals for the betternt of society. Yet, not everyone was willing to stain their hands in blood just to pave the way. People were content living their happy lives― just beneath the radar but safe and stable. Why would anyone want to stick their necks out for the lives of others?
But Atticus wasn’t the sa. He was born to be different, with the heart and mind of a king. Ever since they were young, he was never one to sit still and wait for soone else to rival the fates. He was never afraid of the path ahead, no matter how treacherous it was. As long as his goals were achieved, then it wouldn’t be for naught.
This ti, it was just scaled down― Daphne’s safety was his priority. Thus, it didn’t matter if he had to suffer in silence with no one else to turn to.
"Co in when you’re done," Atticus said before he returned to the infirmary, most likely not wanting to leave Daphne alone for too long.
The sodalite in Sirona’s hands glead as she channeled magic into it. Once the light changed from a consistent pulse to a steady glow, she spoke into it.
"Jonah, you there?"
"This better be good," ca a muffled reply from the other end, laden heavily with sleep. Jonah yawned, his voice channeled clearly by the sodalite piece.
"Daphne is awake," Sirona said. "But there are so things you need to know. Pass the ssage to the others as well."
***
When Sirona returned to the infirmary after her call with Jonah, Daphne already looked much better. She was sitting up a little straighter, laughing along to a joke that Atticus must’ve just shared. Atticus was peeling an orange for her, placing the citrus in her mouth before working on the next piece. He had even removed the orange pith, revealing the juicy flesh inside.
"You seem much better," Sirona said, speaking her mind.
Daphne turned to look at her, smiling gently. "I feel much better," she admitted. "My stomach was hurting pretty badly just now, but I must’ve just been hungry." She gestured to the orange in Atticus’s hand, then to the peel on the bedside table. "This really replenished my strength."
"Chew carefully," Atticus chided, though there was no heat in his voice. If anything, all of the warmth was in his eyes. He gazed at Daphne as though she hung the moon. "Don’t speak while eating."
"It’s good to have so vitamins," Sirona said. "You ntioned that your stomach hurt? May I know where?"
"Here," Daphne replied, placing a hand on her lower abdon.
Sirona barely managed to catch the frown that was threatening to slip on her face. It was no wonder that it hurt― Daphne’s body was probably still trying to expel the retaining tissue.
"Jean Nott struck you with ice," Sirona explained all while shooing Atticus to one side so that she could get a closer look at Daphne. She gently pressed certain areas, watching Daphne’s expressions carefully for any signs of pain. "This area suffered the brunt of his attack. You might experience so bleeding for the next few weeks."
Daphne’s face paled and for a second, Sirona wondered if she was going to ask if her baby was alright still. Thankfully, it did seem like Daphne didn’t even recall being pregnant at all.
"Will it be bad?" she asked instead.
Sirona visibly relaxed. "Just so aches," she said. "Queen Lavinia and I will prescribe so dication to help with the pain. For now, just take it easy and rest."
Daphne nodded. "What about Jean Nott then?" she questioned, causing both Atticus and Sirona to still. "Is he caught yet?"
"He will be soon," Atticus replied. "We have received so information on his whereabouts. Hopefully, we can have him dealt with before we return to Reaweth. The ore for your brothers is ready."
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