Daphne immediately frowned. "Am I not welcomed?"
"Quite the opposite," Atticus said. "I've said before that my doors will always be open to you."
His expression, however, darkened. It wasn't dangerous in a way Daphne feared for her life, no, but rather, she feared for her sanity. She hadn't properly looked at him in so long― ever since she started suspecting Atticus, she had been looking at his sins, his cruelty, and every other little thing which she could mark a red score for.
How long had it been since Daphne looked at Atticus and saw him for him? The Atticus who was kind to her, who cared for her, who was patient to teach her magic when it brought him no benefit. The manner in which they met had been odd but through everything, he was the first to believe in her. Everything that Daphne had now was because of him.
Atticus Heinvres, the supposed tyrant of the North, had changed her life for the better.
