His arms entangle with hers as it takes him more than a couple of seconds to register who she is and how old she is.
“Arathia?” he croaks out, clutching at her upper arms, taking in her flaxen hair and green eyes.
“Yes,” she says, weeping openly, beaming like the sun at him. “It’s me, Daddy. I woke you. You’re awake now.”
I quickly throw the blood bag, that I had been clutching in my hand, at him, expecting him to be ravenous.
We all watch in silence as it lands on his lap and then slides off to drop to the floor with a wet-sounding thwump.
He eyes it in disgust and then his eyes instantly find mine and I flinch, but there is no hate there, just curiosity. “How long?” he asks with a frown. I know he heard me say that Frederick I got married seventeen years ago and clearly his daughter is an adult now.
“Eighteen years,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes briefly, but then opens them again and they are on his daughter, the apple of his eye, his princess. He gathers her close muttering words to her that I can’t hear but make her weep even harder and tighten her grip on him.
“I love you,” she says repeatedly. “I love you.”
“My sweet girl,” he says, cupping her face, “I love you.” They embrace again and Remiel and I exchange a glance. Perhaps we should back out and leave them to it.
In synch, as always, we both step towards the door, but Constantine pulls away from Thia and holds his hand up. Remiel instantly throws up a barrier around us, but there is no need.
Yet.
Constantine grimaces and with his eyes on me, he says, “We need to talk.”
I nod and let go of Remiel’s hand, taking a brave step forward.
“Arathia, give us a minute,” Constantine says, reluctantly letting go of his pride and joy.
With another grimace at me, she leaves after a beat. Constantine looks at me and then at Remiel, expecting me to dismiss him.
When I hesitate, he sighs. “I am not going to hurt you. I would never do that in front of our daughter.”
Oh. That’s not reassuring at all.
“It’s okay,” I say to Remiel, reaching out to squeeze his hand.
“I will be right outside,” he growls, and I know he will literally be hovering in the doorway. It makes me smile inside. I love being protected by him. I just can’t help it.
I nod and he goes, leaving me alone with my husband.
“Hi,” he says carefully.
“Hi,” I say and give him an awkward wave.
After a long and very uncomfortable pause, I ask him, “What do you remember?”
“Everything,” he says immediately.
“Oh,” I say and swallow visibly.
“I’m sorry,” he says, avoiding my gaze. “I was blinded by hate and rage. The power overtook me completely, but I should never have used my power on you, my wife, the mother of my child. It was wrong.”
I blink at him. Was that an apology? I was expecting another go around, not an admission of wrongdoing on his part. “I–I, err…”
He smiles ruefully. “I have been fully aware of my surroundings for the past…eighteen years. A lot of time to think and reflect,” he says. “I have gone over and over what happened between us and I know that you did what you had to.”
I swallow again. He knew what was going on? How awful, how…cruel. “I’m sorry…”