LUCY
The silence that attacks the room this time is sudden and highly unstable, like a weight that tinkers precariously for a few seconds before falling into a dark oblivion.
It is a fragile thing, this silence, soon eroded by the sound of sharp, mocking laughs that ripple through the Great Hall. They are disguised poorly; for whatever shame Tavric carries as an outcast, he is still a noble, a royal, and he has a damn proud father sitting on that throne.
But the mockery is only the prelude. The murmurs erupt again, louder this time, like a swarm of angry hornets, succeeding the laughter.
"Is this a joke? Did Prince Tavric lose the remaining bolt in his head?"
"Does he want his father to exile him just like the princess was?"
"True ruler? But she has no wolf! What fallacy is this?"
"He wants a wolf-less thing to rule the whole kingdom of Virelan?"
"Did she bewitch him? That's the only thing I can come up with—that he would risk his life this way."
