"What did I say?" Atticus smirked, happily strutting into the room and past the horrified knight. "Good fucking riddance." His voice was sing-song, a skip in his step as he bent down to poke at the dead body.
Leonora was still reeling in shock. She gasped sharply, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stared at the corpse in front of her.
Other than the face, the entire body was mangled and ruined beyond recognition. Flesh and skin were colored in more shades than what should normally be on a human body. It seemed like Drusilla — or at least Leonora assumed she was Drusilla — had sustained several beatings and general abuse before she had eventually succumbed.
"Princess Leonora, aren't you going to greet your lovely sister?" King Atticus teased, a huge sunny smile on his face as he poked and prodded at the dead woman's forehead. "It's a miracle you could even recognize her, considering how she wasn't even fortunate enough to die with her own face."
Check out the prequel: The Hidden King's Stolen Wife