Voran let out a strangled, terrified squeak.
He knew Kaelus was not exaggerating.
He knew the Archduke had literally frozen an assassin's throat days ago in Oakhaven.
"GUARDS!" Voran shrieked, scrambling out of his chair, abandoning all dignity. "Nannies! Handmaids! Get her out of here! Right now! Take her to the East Wing! Lock the doors!"
Four terrified nannies sprinted into the dining hall, grabbing the flailing, screaming Drusilla by the arms and dragging her backward.
"NO! LET ME GO! I WANT THE HANDSOME PAPA! HE'S MINE! SHE'S JUST A STRAY! I'LL HAVE YOU ALL FLAYED!" Drusilla's shrieks echoed down the corridor, slowly fading away as the heavy iron doors were slammed shut behind her.
The silence that returned to the dining hall was deafening.
Duke Voran stood by his chair, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his face, utterly humiliated in his own fortress.
He looked at Kaelus, terrified that the Archduke would use the insult to declare war.
