"Well?" Daphne gripped the sheets tightly, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared hard at Atticus. "Answer !"
"It’s not important," Atticus said, but he refused to et her gaze at all. Instead, he had been looking back and forth sheepishly, choosing to focus on the blankets or the walls. With every second that ticked on without an answer, Daphne felt herself growing increasingly frustrated with Atticus, and worried for Eugene.
With his behavior, Daphne knew without a doubt that he had seen Eugene after they had been attacked at the slums. However, he must’ve done sothing that he was unwilling to share with her.
"Out with it, what did you do?" Daphne asked sternly.
"What makes you think I did sothing?" Atticus retorted, but since he was still focused on staring at the wall, Daphne wasn’t convinced.
"Did you kick him when he’s injured? Shove him into manure?" Daphne demanded. "For god’s sake Atticus, just tell where he is! Is he dead?"
"Unfortunately not... He’s only... in the dungeons," he mumbled softly, still looking anywhere but at her.
Unable to catch his words properly, Daphne frowned and crossed her arms, "Speak up. You’re a king, for god’s sake! Why are you muttering and whispering like a child that had gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar? What did you do?"
Atticus stood to his feet, finally leaving Daphne’s side for the first ti since she had woken up. With each step that he took away from the bed, the distance created between them no longer seed like an exclusively physical affair.
Daphne watched, feeling increasingly offended as Atticus turned around to face the window. The light from outside had highlighted his broad shoulders and impressive silhouette, casting a huge shadow over her.
She could no longer see his face. She could only see the back of his head.
"Hey! Where are you going? Look at when I’m talking to you!"
The only acknowledgnt Atticus gave was a shaky nod, but he did not turn around. His hands raked through his hair, ssing up the already-tousled strands even further. It stood at odd angles as he vented all his frustrations, clenching his jaw tightly in annoyance.
"I said," he repeated, a little louder this ti, "he’s in the dungeons."
"What? Why?!"
"He left you!" Atticus burst out. He spun around in an instant and Daphne was t with burning fury in his eyes, bright and ablaze like the fires of hell. "Not only did he sneak you out of the castle knowing that it is forbidden, but he also led you right into the hands of danger. You could’ve been severely injured. You could’ve died!"
"But I didn’t, and―"
"He is a lord, a leading mber of the upper society of Vramid. And yet, he had just about the courage of a field mouse. You are his queen."
"If he’s dead, how would he be able to seek help? How would you have found ?"
The light that was previously cast on Atticus’s face had disappeared. All that was left were the shadows that masked his expression. Yet, even in the darkness, Daphne could make out Atticus’s golden irises. They glowed in the dark like that of a lion, a predator about to strike.
"If he is so much of a coward that he cannot even protect the people that he is supposed to stake his life for, I have no use for him running around free on the streets. Not to ntion, he had already betrayed my explicit orders that you are not allowed to leave the royal palace."
"I am not a songbird for you to keep here in a golden cage!"
"And you seem to also be forgetting sothing, Princess." The words ca out like a hiss, venomous and deadly. "You are but my prisoner, not a guest, and most certainly not my lover. Just because I whisper a few sweet nothings and provide you a sliver of my attention doesn’t an you can forget your place."
Daphne flinched, biting her lip as she registered the harshness of his words.
Daphne wondered what it said about her, that those words actually hurt her more than the bruises on her throat. Her heart sank as the words hung heavy in the air, their weight crushing her spirit.
Atticus’s voice, once filled with tenderness and warmth, now carried an icy indifference that pierced her to the core. At that mont, a tidal wave of emotions surged through her, engulfing her in a sea of hurt and disbelief. A lump ford in her throat, and she wanted to cry.
Perhaps it only hurt so much because he had hit the nail on the head― he was right, she had forgotten. Ti and ti again, she had reminded herself not to get too attached to a man that wasn’t written in her stars. And yet, ti and ti again she had allowed him to slip through the cracks in the wall she had built around her heart.
Perhaps it was for the best that was reminded, once and for all, where her place was. Not by his side, as he claid with his actions, but like a child’s toy, haphazardly thrown at his feet.
Daphne closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She refused to cry in front of him― she had wasted enough tears on an ungrateful man that treated her with blatant disrespect.
"You’re right," she said. "Thank you for kindly reminding of my place, Your Majesty. My apologies for having bothered you with my recovery. I suppose I placed too much importance on myself. It would have suited your plans if Lord Attonson died defending and I died because no one knew where I was gone." Daphne smiled, but there was no joy in her eyes.
She felt like soone had carved the inside of her heart out with a knife and tenderly scraped at her insides. A hollowed shell, fit for insects to live in.
"I have forgotten my place. Foolish of , isn’t it?" Daphne continued with a wry smile. It was amusing, in a very twisted way. Perhaps one day, when she could treat her visit to Vramid like a fun anecdote to recount to people, she would think it was funny.
"I hope Your Majesty is magnanimous enough to forgive . I shall not waste your ti any further."
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