"Brother! What am I hearing? You punished Dahlia?" Ainsley exclaimed as he stormed into the chamber where Daedric lounged, a mix of excitement and bewilderment dancing on his face.
His eyes quickly flicked to the half-empty bottle of wine on the table, a rare sight in the middle of the day, signaling that Daedric had abandoned his duties for the moment.
Daedric, reclining lazily, raised his wine glass to his lips, his gaze cold and distant. "Leave. I'm not in the mood to talk," he muttered, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable as he took another long sip.
Ainsley paused, tempted to press for more, but the sharp edge in his brother's tone made him think better of it. "Of course," he said quietly, turning on his heel to leave. But deep inside, he was almost gleeful. 'So, the Crown Prince has finally shown his ruthless side,' he mused. 'Perhaps this means he'll take the next step—perhaps he'll finally rid us of Sullivan.'
