At once, Madam Beckett interjected. "Don't say that."
But Ryley's eyes remained fixed on Mervyn, watching the slight wavering in his posture.
"It's the truth," he murmured. "If the traitors had taken my life, they'd be celebrating by now. But taking that ring…"
He paused, letting a confident look settle over his face.
"...would bring a curse."
Another beat passed before he added, voice lower and sharper—
"Because that ring belongs only to me."
Mervyn clenched his jaw at once, then turned his gaze away, irritation slipping into a hiss beneath his breath.
"What nonsense!"
"How is it nonsense when you've already proven it true?" Ryley shot back, his own voice sharpening. "You've already caught that curse."
Both Madam Beckett and Mervyn visibly froze at that.
"What does that mean?" Madam Beckett asked, her tone clipped.
"Ask him yourself, Anna," Ryley replied coldly. "Ask him to explain how one of his guards died three days ago."
