The silence that followed was a balm and a curse.
It was a relief to have the suffocating pressure of Donncahd's presence gone, but it also left a void that was quickly filled with the echoes of her own fear.
She lay there, her body trembling, her mind a whirlwind of what-ifs and maybes, the pain in her neck a constant, throbbing reminder of how close she had come to death.
She had almost died.
Again.
And this time, it wasn't from the slow, creeping decay of her illness, or from the cold, calculating cruelty of the man who was her husband.
This time, it was from a deliberate, malicious act of violence.
Someone wanted her dead.
Someone wanted her gone badly enough to use dark, forbidden magic to do it.
Someone who wasn't Donncahd.
And they had tried to do it in a way that would point the blame directly at Donncahd, a move that was both clever and incredibly dangerous.
