Sirona’s Schemes

"I-Intercourse?!" Daphne echoed in shock. Instantly, the color of her face changed to that of a beetroot― so red that it was borderline purple.

"Yes," Sirona breezily replied. "Magic fatigue paired with physical exertion would harm most people. And that's the case with His Majesty."

"Physical exertion?"

"A problem commonly found in newlyweds," the doctor said impishly, watching as Atticus seemed to twitch on the bed. Queen Daphne's face had gotten even worse, if that was even possible. "Perhaps you should take it easy this month. I'll prescribe the King with a series of tonics." 

"Actually… Atticus and I… His Majesty and I… Well…"

Sirona had to fight so hard against her instincts to maintain the act. Watching the queen stumble and trip over her own words was so entertaining that she had nearly cooed out loud.

So innocent, so untainted by the evils ― Atticus ― of the world. It was practically a miracle!