Seren was trying to will away the ache in her head. It throbbed and hammered, but it wasn't the only thing that hurt. It was simply the only thing she'd acknowledge. Memories were dull, and murky, but they floated to the surface of her mind, dead bodies rising in the water. She heard the hiss and the scraping but she didn't leave the window, merely spun slowly and leaned back against it.
For long moments all she did was stare at him at the door. Her face was a careful arrangement of neutrality. She could have gone for apathy but sometimes that went over badly. If you didn't care they'd make you care. The last thing she wanted to do right now was challenge him. "Am I your prisoner now, cariad? Locking me up in our home? You haven't used enough spells to make it a fortress." He wouldn't understand the Welsh and that may piss him off, but it was true. The only magic was the bars. Wild magics had destroyed worse.
People really liked to dissociate. He's not my husband, he's a monster, things like that. Seren was too smart for that. His mind may have fragmented, splintered, perhaps even shattered, but he was still Graham. That made him dangerous. A stranger didn't know things about you. Graham, though, he knew all the important things about her. He still didn't know all the facts, the itemised version of her life, but he knew what hurt. Worse still, he knew what she liked, what felt good and if he'd really snapped he'd find ways to use it against her. He was still her husband. Detachment was probably better. Then she could hate him.