His pragmatic response was twisted by Nikolas's poison into proof of betrayal.
To a grieving daughter with a snake whispering in her ear, pragmatism looks like complicity.
Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway.
Prince Alaric rounded the corner and stopped short when he saw his sister.
"Elara? Are you okay? Why do you look like that?"
His voice carried genuine concern, brotherly love untainted by any political schemes that Nikolas had spoken about.
Elara didn't respond.
Didn't even acknowledge his presence.
She simply turned and walked away, her movements lifeless.
"Elara?" Alaric whispered, reaching out to touch her hand.
She knocked his arm away with surprising violence, the sound of flesh striking flesh echoing through the corridor.
Alaric stood frozen, his face a mask of confusion and growing concern as his sister disappeared around the corner.
Another relationship is poisoned. Another connection severed.
