Alaric leaned closer. "Why would you ask him that?" His voice wasn't harsh, but it sounded controlled. "What does that mean, Daphne?"
She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I want to meet Arel," she said.
The reaction was instant.
"No."
"No."
"Absolutely not."
All three voices overlapped.
"No," Alaric said again, louder this time. "You're not meeting him."
Daphne flinched at the tone, not because he was angry, but because she felt the fear under it. She turned toward him, her fingers still knotted in the blanket. "Ric… I just... I have questions."
His jaw clenched. "And he doesn't get to be the one answering them."
"I need to understand," she insisted, "What I saw, the things Arel knows...they don't make sense. I can't just pretend nothing happened."
Alaric shook his head. He got up and started pacing, running a hand through his hair. "Stop calling him that," he snapped. "Stop using his name like it belongs on your lips."
Daphne winced. "I didn't mean..."
