"How could you say that," Atticus imdiately said with a frown.
A frantic frenzy shot through his eyes, and for a second, he allowed himself a little too much emotion. That was a good look, though. It was one of the rare tis he actually seed like a human rather than a mindless killing demon.
"I would never gamble with the life of our child like that," Atticus said, a little more reserved this ti. He reined in his emotions, taking in a deep breath before pursing his lips. "I am not as heartless as you think I am."
"I didn’t―" It was pure instinct for Daphne to want to defend herself, but the second those words left her lips, she swallowed them back down.
That’s because she did. She did think that he was heartless enough to lay hands on their child, much more use it as a tool to further his agenda. In fact, this wasn’t the first ti she had accused or thought of such a thing.
"You seed ready enough to sacrifice anything and everything for this," Daphne muttered, her bitterness coating every word that left her lips.
"And you’ve thought of everything for the goodness of the world but for ," Atticus seethed through gritted teeth. However, more accurately, he seed like a wounded puppy that was neglected by its owner than an angered man. "What if I told you what happened to your child? Do you also rember how you were coping with the miscarriage since you now recall every other detail?"
"I do," Daphne said firmly. "It was difficult, but―"
"But nothing!" Atticus cut her off. "That was it. It was difficult, and your body was not responding well to it― physically, ntally, psychologically. Your body’s way of helping you focus on recovering was to make you forget."
He paused and looked to Sirona as if awaiting confirmation, and the healer nodded with pursed lips. That was enough for Atticus to continue.
"And forget you did," he said. "There was no need to tell you such a thing when you should be focusing on recovering. What good would there be if I told you that the child was lost? You would’ve blad yourself― and in your grief, blad this dumb chicken, even though he has every right to be blad. But knowing you, you would regret doing so in the end and add this to your list of guilt."
Daphne puffed up her chest, filled with argunts and sentences she could shoot back, but she couldn’t find the courage nor confidence to let it rip. If anything, whatever Atticus said had started to rock her faith.
"Jean Nott had the courage to speak the truth," Atticus continued after taking a deep breath to control himself.
Unlike Daphne, who was new to this set of extraordinary powers, he had full control of his magic, having dealt with it his whole life. However, while no shimry wisps encased his hands to signal that he was tapping into his power, his clenched fists still marked a clear sign of his frustration.
"However," he said, "he only did so because it would clearly benefit him. He doesn’t care about your health; he’s obsessed with you, and as long as he can lay his filthy hands on you, he has no care about the tactics he must use to get you to his side. For a truth that is bathed in so much blood, possibly more than what coats my own hands, are you sure you wish to celebrate his honesty?"
Daphne released a shaky breath. She clawed and fisted at the fabric of her dress, her eyes suddenly landing on everything and everyone else other than Atticus. For so reason, now that everything was laid bare before her, she could no longer think clearly which side she should stand on.
The loss of magic was why she ca here to confront him in the first place. How did everything stray so far from her original starting point?
She then looked down at her hands, whose fingers were still entangled with her clothes. Now that she found out Atticus was not the only one who possessed world-destructing magic, would it still matter?
For one thing, she could see the logic of his theory. For another, she also knew the damage it would cause to kingdoms like Xahan who desperately needed magic to rebuild what was destroyed because of them.
"How do you expect to face Cordelia again?" she asked, her voice cracking at the end as her vision started to blur with tears. Just the image of the crumbled capital city of Xahan had her rolling in guilt. "After what we did to their kingdom, we’ve now stripped them of the only way to rebuild themselves."
"If we owe this much, and if it would make you feel better, we could help them ourselves," Atticus muttered in reply. "We have the power of a thousand n in each of us. What’s so difficult about stepping in personally to help them rebuild brick by brick?"
Daphne’s eyes shot back to look at Atticus. "You’re willing?"
"If it will make you feel better," he replied without hesitation. "There aren’t many things I am unwilling to compromise on, especially when you’re the one requesting it."
He took a step closer to her, cutting the distance between them.
Zephyr’s wings instinctively moved to protect Daphne from him — not because he actually thought Atticus would bring her any harm, but simply because he didn’t like that man — but with just one flick of a finger, Zephyr was easily overpowered and magically forced to stay in place.
With a raised hand, Atticus gently wiped the tears from Daphne’s eyes. His finger trailed down her cheek to tilt her face up so that her eyes couldn’t leave his. In such close proximity, with his featherlight touches and enchanting eyes, Daphne would’ve thought she was being magically chard by him if she was any weaker.
"Sunshine, please do not think so little of ," he begged. Atticus’s voice was no louder than a whisper, nearly inaudible for the others present in the room. "No matter the intention, you are still my wife, my queen. I have fallen for you as such, and you are an equal."
With his other hand, he brought Daphne’s hand to rest against his chest, her palm flat over the area where his heart would be.
"If it would help your process of grief," he said, "then kill . Take my life, for it has been yours ever since I’ve laid eyes on you."
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