Morielle gnashed her teeth. The pictures of Chron and Syldor dead and blood pooling around their corpses in their very own rooms flashed in her head. It was clear a knife was used to cut their throats and made them bleed to death in their beds.
At the moment, she was in her father’s study, being reprimanded.
“You should have told me what happened! None of this would have happened if you told me there was an attempt on your life under my roof!” Tallahir’s voice was loud, and she stared into space with a vexed expression on her face.
“I thought they would be safe in our compound, but I was wrong,” she mumbled in a low tone. It was like she was only telling herself, not her father.
“This is why you should make sound decisions, Morielle. What if it was you who was killed?” His eyes flashe
