With Jonah gone, the hallway fell into uneasy silence. Daphne was once again alone with her captor, the monstrous King Atticus who took joy in tormenting her and forcing her to marry him.
The same King Atticus that saved her and healed her, who bantered and sulked like a schoolboy when teased by his oldest friend.
The thought was making her head hurt. How could a man be so different from one moment and then another?
"You're awfully silent," Atticus observed. "Are you alright?"
Daphne looked away from where she saw Jonah last. Her eyes met Atticus's, holding his gaze for a second or two before she blinked and looked away.
"Just a lot to think about," she muttered.
A lot indeed. The look he gave her whenever he thought she wasn't paying attention, the way he could joke and jest when around those of his inner circle, and also, the gentleness of his hands when he had healed her. Daphne hadn't forgotten the manic look in his eyes when she had first injured herself too.
