"WHAT HAVE YOU done?" roared Hartley, grabbing Spade by the lapels of his coat.
The second prince's expression was cold, stable, unmoving as he stared hard at his brother. He didn't even bother turning over to look at the dead body of the maid, who was now collapsed by his blade.
Silently, he withdrew his sword, flicking it to get the blood off his blade. The drops of blood splattered onto the ground nearby. When Spade sheathed the weapon, a sharp ringing noise echoed down the corridor.
"I didn't kill her, if that's what you're implying," Spade replied calmly. "Surely you saw that with your own eyes. She was the one that slit her own throat and even left us a nice little prophecy to crack."
"She wouldn't be dead if you hadn't given her a weapon," hissed Hartley.
"And what?" retorted Spade. He sneered. "And let her kill Alice instead?"
