Chapter 66 – Daphne POV
After hours of silence, of near-sleep and utter peace, the door creaks open.
A very drunk man stumbles into the room.
I blink. I was half-asleep.
Of course.
Right.
Wedding night.
"Your Grace," I say, standing up like a good little noble bride.
He doesn't say a single word.
Just starts undressing.
Piece by piece.
Like this is normal. Like I'm not standing here witnessing a train crash in slow motion.
He fumbles with his belt. Tosses his shirt. Kicks off his boots. Then—then—he turns, fully nude, and begins to pee into a metal bowl on the floor with all the grace of a toddler.
No aim.
No shame.
And then he turns around mid-stream and makes eye contact.
I would rather die.
I stare at his naked body—his very medieval, very unwashed, very unsolicited body—and feel a visceral wave of disgust. Not just spiritual. Not just psychological.
I mean deep, soul-level disgust.[1]
No thank you.
