Edmund, standing beside her, looked as if the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders.
His brows were furrowed so deeply, and Primrose didn't even need to read his thoughts to know that he was drowning in guilt, and it was written all over his face.
He didn't speak because he couldn't. The guilt within him had drowned him that Edmund wasn't able to swim to the surface.
Meanwhile, Primrose was trying her best to hide how much she was hurting. She clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly as she forced herself to breathe through the pain, even the thought of someone brushing against her feet made her flinch.
Despite all the pain, Primrose still tried to pretend. "My father … didn't have any kind of hereditary illness," she said softly.
Silas responded, calmly but falsely, "What about your mother, Your Majesty?"
