When morning came and the king sent for Lord Vealor, it felt like everything Victor had predicted would happen was slowly coming true.
Every move the king made was exactly what Victor had claimed he would do.
Although Lord Vealor had his own reservations about Victor, he still believed there was a possibility that the man was telling the truth.
But when he arrived at Victor's house and saw that there were no signs of struggle, no broken furniture, no blood, and nothing out of place like the king had claimed, his anger reached its peak.
He stood there, staring at the untouched house, the clean trimmed grasses and his jaw clenched tightly.
If the king had truly killed his daughter, the least he could have done was admit it to his face.
He could have looked him in the eyes and told him the truth instead of creating a false story.
Lord Vealor felt insulted.
He felt betrayed.
