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When Pavetta had her daughter, she thought she was beautiful. She cooed over the baby’s tiny nose and tufts of blonde hair while Duny smiled softly at their child.
And then midnight came along, the time that, had Duny still been cursed, he'd turn into a regular man.
Instead, the baby’s face warped and her tufts of hair sharpened into pale spikes. Spikes that pierced Pavetta’s hand.
She shrieked in pain, and Duny took the child from her arms as one of the guards came to check on the commotion. The guard stared wide eyed before leaving and returning with Calanthe and Mousesack.
He caught snippets of the queen’s hushed whispers to her daughter as the druid healed her.
She thought her granddaughter was a monster. She thought it was his fault. She thought Pavetta should abandon both of them.
The only other time he'd seen his wife so angry was when Calanthe tried to kill him. Unlike that time, she did not use her gift in defending those her mother sought to hurt. She simply used her words.
“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon is my daughter,” Pavetta declared proudly, “and she is beautiful.”