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𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 || 𝐄𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐥𝐟𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞
Oriana woke to a knife at her throat.
Though every inch of her body bade her flee from the bed, she willed herself calm. Calm against the sting of icy metal upon her skin. Calm in the face of wild eyes and bared teeth.
'You are home,' she reassured. 'It is only your wife.'
Slowly, very slowly, the sharp feline slits of Madoc's eyes widened with recognition.
Oriana exposed her palms to prove herself harmless, then cupped those palms about his wrist. She found his pulse racing fast enough to match her own. A gentle push, and she was able to shift the hand that held the knife away from her throat. The hand opened and the knife slid along the silken sheets to clatter on the floor. The sound made her flinch.
'Oriana.'
She nodded, already breathing easier. It was good to hear him speak her name.
'I'm...' he tried and faltered. 'I'm so...'
He had been sorry the first time, too.
And the second. Now, the third. Those repetitious apologies lacked weight. They both knew that without needing to say it. She wanted to tell him all was well and fine, but could not manage the lie.
'I'll call for tea,' she said instead.
Madoc would not meet her eyes. He removed himself from her touch as though the very act of being near her was doing further harm. A difficult thing when all she wanted was to be held close. Assured. They left the bed at separate sides, he to the fireplace, she to the door. There were many locks to be undone before she could poke her head out of it to address her waiting maid.