“He was on your team, under your command, and you’re alive. Who is more to blame?” I don’t know why he says it. A powerful man unaccustomed to not being able to speak his mind, I suppose. So used to being immune from consequences that he cannot fathom being in danger. But he puts such a sneer into it. His voice drips disdain. Diago leaps forward. I don’t even have time to comprehend what’s happening before Quiscil’s scream is being cut short. Blood arcs in a fine red mist. There’s a terrible gurgling beneath the rabid snarl, barely audible amidst the panicked shrieks of the other senators who
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