"So it's true, then?" Lottie asked. "What a shame. It seems rather unfair that Prince Alistair had worked so hard for his position, only for it to be ripped away because of something so trivial."
Silas couldn't help but snort. He grabbed Lottie's wrist, the ruby pendant on his neck glowing with warmth― so did his palm.
A sharp intake of breath parted Lottie's lips. Her eyes widened as she instinctively tried to pull back, but her wrist was tightly locked in Silas's hold. He hadn't used much strength nor much power, only enough to frighten her.
"Why so alarmed, love?" he asked. "Losing a hand is a pretty trivial situation, is it not?"
"You misunderstand, Your Highness," Lottie said quickly. "That's not what I meant."
"Oh, is that so?" he mused. "Then what is it you meant?"
