His words tumbled out faster now, as if speed might convince them to be true. His mind clawed for every certainty he had left.
Marcus’s laughter cut through his desperate words, mocking and cold. “Ah,” he said, dragging the sound as though savoring it. “I see now. That boy has truly done a number on you. Broken you down until even you...one of the few elders with eyes clear enough to see his weakness...accept the lie as truth.”
Gerald’s lips parted, his breath faltering.
Marcus leaned forward again, his gaze sharp. “I heard about you, Gerald. You were never one to hold your tongue when Alexander disappointed. You doubted him. You questioned his worth. You whispered among the others that he was unfit to lead, that he was too reckless, too unproven, too arrogant to wear the crown of Blood
