"You… you…" Alistair's limbs flailed around helplessly as he tried to reach for Atticus, his eyes bulging in fear as his red face slowly began to turn blue from the lack of breath.
"King Atticus! Please spare my brother!" Drusilla immediately went on her knees and began weeping.
If Alistair died, she would have no one looking out for her interests. Luis and Silas couldn't care less, Hazelle obviously hated her, and Leonora only barely tolerated her because she had more skill than Daphne. Blanche, their youngest sister, was just a second Daphne in the making― utterly useless.
"He was simply―"
"Was simply what? Upset? Addled in the head? Taken leave of his senses?" Atticus retorted boredly as he idly rotated Alistair in the air so that he was facing his siblings and the rest of the townspeople. "How many reasons are you going to give me to excuse his incompetence?"
