Evil Begone

"Well," Jonah said with a sigh. "There's that. Guess you were right."

"Of course I'm right," Atticus said with a knowing shrug. "I'm always right."

The two waited patiently like birds of prey, their sharp eyes watching as Prince Alistair sauntered out of the dungeons. Blood stained his hands, the scarlet shade increasingly bright under the reflection of the silvery moonlight. He brought it to his lips, licking it clean, before stretching his arms above his head.

Even from a distance away, Atticus and Jonah could clearly hear Alistair's loud sighs of satisfaction.

"Are we going to do anything about it?" Jonah asked, frowning. "He seems to be headed straight for the main wings of the palace. Do you think he might be going after Daphne?"