Chapter 97: The Flustered Third Prince.
With the king’s approval, Alaric gave a final nod to the guards. They led Priscilla away, her sobs growing faint as she was dragged out of the grounds and toward an uncertain future.
As the guards began to lead Priscilla away, Alaric lifted a hand, halting them. His voice was firm but low. "Bring me a pair of scissors."
The command sent a murmur of curiosity through the crowd, they wondered what he was about to do. He had said just now that he’d spare the maid but why was he asking for a scissors? The ones with the most imaginative minds thought perhaps he wished to plunge it in her throat. While others thought he was simply trying to scare her as they waited with bated breathes.
After a brief moment, a maid hurried forward, offering a small, silver pair of scissors.
Alaric took them with a nod of thanks, then turned to Salviana, who watched with a mix of confusion and worry. She didn’t want anything gore in front of her. She blinked while Alaric leaned closer, he whispered to her, "I know you wouldn’t feel right doing this yourself, so I’ll do it for you."
Without further explanation, he approached the trembling Priscilla.
"Your grace, forgive me," She backed up slightly, her face a mask of terror, but Alaric extended the scissors to her, his eyes cold. "Take it," he ordered, his tone brooking no refusal.
Priscilla hesitated, her hands shaking, but she obeyed, reaching out to grasp the scissors as though they burned.
She looked up at him with pleading eyes, hoping for mercy, but his expression remained as hard as stone.
He didn’t care about such measly evils.
"Cut it," he commanded.