Alistair's shoulders stiffened, his breath sharp as if struck. His eyes narrowed, rage and hurt twisting into something raw. "Shut up…" he muttered, clutching the rope harder, though his hand trembled.
But Alaric didn't relent. He stepped closer, his tone calm but cutting. "If you kill Lucian now, if you let this madness consume you, then all you'll prove is Father's words—that you are nothing but a monster. Mother would never forgive that. She wanted you to be remembered differently. You still have that chance. Don't throw it away."
For a moment, silence filled the chamber, broken only by Lucian's ragged gasps as the rope slackened slightly in Alistair's grasp. The guards exchanged nervous glances, too afraid to speak, but aware that something unseen was unraveling in the younger prince.
Alistair's eyes glistened faintly, though no tears fell. His lips twisted into a grin that was less joy than anguish. He bent low, his voice hissing into Lucian's ear, hot and venomous.
