Daphne's grip tightened around the dagger that she held in her other hand. Alarmed by the sudden contact, she raised her weapon, threatening to slice down. The tip of her weapon was mere millimeters away from Alistair's eye when she stopped short, finally realizing that it was none other than her brother that had her wrist in a vice-like grip.
Alistair, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. He stared coldly at Daphne, almost as if he was daring her to strike down with her weapon.
Only, she didn't. As expected. He didn't think she had it in her as well.
"Let me go, Alistair," she said, refusing to break eye contact with him or show any weakness. Her hand was starting to throb but she didn't let the pain show on her face.
"And let you make off with my kill? I don't think so." Alistair sneered. "You should've just stayed in the gardens with the rest of the noblewomen, Daphne."
