"The wife of a criminal…" the king's voice was low, ominous even. His gaze pinned Alastair in place. "Tell me, Duke of Greenvale, is this the most heinous criminal you could catch?"
Alastair's brain worked overtime. "No, Your Majesty. There are many more batches of them waiting outside these doors. I didn't dare bring them all in at once, fearing their kind would ruin the atmosphere… Furthermore I… I caught an incredible number of high-level criminal combatants. But they had a curse placed on them. Before I could bring them in alive, they died."
"So that's your excuse…"
Alastair's shoulders dipped, and his previously proud and confident posture faltered inch by inch. He clasped his hands behind his back, but it looked less like discipline and more like bracing against the cold judgment rolling from the throne.
