"Now, Lord Rubenhart, I must admit," Meera began, her tone light and conversational as she walked beside him.
"I am quite curious about the identity of the Witch you have secured down in your precious dungeons."
From her perspective, knowing the bloody, vengeful history Ulrich's father and he shared with witches, she was already shocked he had adopted three of them.
Though, in her own twisted way, she found his method of adopting the three young sisters he had orphaned to be rather cunningly hot.
Still, that peculiar burst of mercy did not explain why he would purposefully keep a grown witch alive in his cells for years.
"You know her already," Ulrich replied, his gaze fixed ahead. "She is one of the people you caught two years ago."
"Hm, I remember her briefly," Meera said, her brow furrowing slightly. "But I thought you intended to slaughter everyone involved except that one you let run off?"
