The prince's heart skipped a beat.
"W-Who… who?" he stammered, trying to step back, but stumbling over his own feet. His eyes trembled as he looked at the remains of the elite soldier, still dripping fresh blood before him.
Strax took a step forward. The sound of his boot landing in the crimson puddle was enough to make Edward let out a choked scream. The oppressive power hanging in the air was overwhelming, suffocating. Every cell in his body screamed to flee, but he was frozen — not by chains or magic, but by pure, primal terror.
"Xenovia," Strax repeated, his voice cold as ice and hot as lightning all at once. "The violet-eyed woman you tried to kidnap for a forced marriage… then locked away in a cell."
Edward's eyes widened. Now he knew what Strax was talking about.
"That was… it was just politics!" he tried to justify, his voice as thin as a cornered rat's. "A strategic union! Nothing personal! We didn't even… even touch her yet!"
