“I can get drunk off of your breath,” she said, smiling and laughing hard. Alexandal took a blade from the hands of one of his guards. “Wait, my Lord!” Montague cried, staring the mage down. Her willingness to die was obvious. Montague had read about certain curses that could only be executed by a mage through the sacrifice of her own body. Death and Possession were two that came to mind. He stepped in close to Alexandal. “It’s a trick. She wants you to kill her. Deadly spells require sacrifice. You’d be giving them what they want. And you could be killed yourself.” The woman looked at Gretchen, who was holding the baby king, and glared a menacing smile before she exploded into another fit of laughter. At that, Alexandal didn’t stop to consider Montague’s warnings. After swallowing three bottles of wine, he was polluted, and the woman’s screeching laughter was too provoking to stand down. Without hesitating Alexandal thrust his blade straight through the woman’s heart. At the moment the dagger punctured her ribcage, Montague noticed Alexandal’s expression slowly change from painful to relief. His face became flushed and his eyes bloodshot. Darkened veins bulged from his