A sharp gasp rang through the room as Daphne’s lips parted. Air rushed into her lungs as though she had been thrown underwater and was finally allowed to resurface right at the brink of death. Everything felt odd and fuzzy― her fingers were tingling, her legs were numb, and her back felt sore and was aching all over.
She instantly reached for her head. It was throbbing beyond belief, the back of her eyes burning as though soone had splashed alcohol into her sockets and left it there.
Slowly, she pried her own eyes open. They felt as though they were stuck down by a layer of sap and she needed to expend great effort just to take a peek at her surroundings. The first thing that registered in her mind was that this was not her room in Xahan nor was it an infirmary. Yet, the decor was so familiar that it was just at the tip of her tongue.
"Where..." she croaked, her voice rough around the edges. It was only then did she realize how parched she was. Her throat felt as though she had just swallowed a bagful of sand and left it out to tan in the sumr sun.
The door creaked open and she slowly turned her head to look. A man stepped in, dressed in various shades of black and gray. His hair was a little longer than she rembered. It reached his shoulders, and Daphne knew that if she tried, she could probably even tie it at the base of his neck.
When he turned, Daphne was t with his piercing gold eyes. Atticus was as ethereal as she rembered him to be― he had always been a handso man. This ti, however, he seed as though he had aged rather severely since she had last seen him.
When even was the last ti she had seen him? Daphne couldn’t rember.
His eyes widened a little when he realized that his wife was staring right at him. It took him a couple of seconds before he eventually regulated his expression, but even from this distance, Daphne didn’t miss the hint of worry that flashed across his face.
"Daphne..." he breathed out. She loved the way her na rolled off his tongue. "You’re awake."
While she wanted to nod, just the tiniest movent would send a splitting headache rushing through her temple. So instead, she offered him a smile. That was all she could do, considering the fact that her throat was so dry it felt as though it was about to be split open at any given minute.
Atticus was truly attentive. Just one look and he imdiately knew what was wrong. He crossed the room and quickly filled up a glass of water from the pitcher that was set by the bed, offering it to Daphne after he helped her to sit up. Her body felt sluggish― if it weren’t for his help, Daphne didn’t think she would be able to sit upright herself.
She gratefully took the glass, chugging the water eagerly, so much so that so droplets had even spilled from the corners of her lips.
It took her a while but after a couple of glasses, her thirst finally felt quenched enough for her to speak. That, and her stomach felt so bloated that she didn’t think she could drink anymore.
She placed a hand on her belly, and right as she did, she suddenly flinched. The action felt so awfully familiar and... natural. However, when she rubbed, there wasn’t anything different she felt.
Even Atticus seed to have stilled as he watched her movents.
Daphne frowned. There was sothing wrong. Atticus was awfully quiet. Judging by how her body felt, she must’ve been out for quite a while. From the last few tis this happened, Atticus had always been anxious about her recovery. So what was wrong this ti?
Why was she passed out in the first place? This room definitely did not belong in Xahan. Daphne frowned. In fact, now that she was taking a closer look, this place looked awfully like...
"We’re in Reaweth," Atticus said, finishing her train of thought for her. "We returned a few hours ago, in fact."
She was right after all. Reaweth. Daphne’s eyes widened. Reaweth was about a month’s journey away from Xahan. She rembered none of the trip back. Did it an that she was unconscious the whole ti?
The colors on Daphne’s face kept changing. Various moods decorated her features until, eventually, she was pale with horror. She rembered now. The last thing she recalled seeing before her mory ended was Atticus reaching a hand out to her. It wasn’t a hand that offered help, no. Rather, he was targeting his magic at her.
Now that the scene played in her mind, she could recall the terror that filled her at that instant. Slowly, she looked up from her hands to Atticus, who was patiently sitting by her bedside, waiting for her to speak. There was nothing she could read on his face― he was as stoic as a marble statue, sitting still, simply waiting for her to react first.
"You knocked out," she stated.
"I did what I had to do," he imdiately admitted. Daphne couldn’t ignore the wave of disappointnt that rushed through her. Atticus had used his magic against her. "You were falling into panic. Any more and you could’ve been in danger."
She rembered that. Everything was a blur at that mont and she couldn’t see rhy or reason. Now that her head was cleared and she felt fairly calm, she understood why Atticus did what he did. However, his explanation still did not ease the many knots in her heart.
"You didn’t have to leave unconscious for an entire month," she spat.
"I am sorry."
His apology wasn’t sothing Daphne expected. Her eyes widened, her back a little straighter. On the contrary, Atticus looked down at his hands, his lips pursed.
"I wasn’t ready to face you," Atticus softly admitted.
Did that an that he was admitting to his sins as well? Daphne bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t untangle the ss of emotions that swirled in her stomach.
Her stomach.
Her fingers clenched around the fabric of her thin nightgown. She rembered everything now, crystal clear. She had a child but it was sohow lost.
"Was it you?" she asked eventually, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them. "Did you kill our baby?"
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