— You say it is not real... —
The judging Prince commenced.
— Yet even I, who has a short time knowing the Lady, can see that right now she is so devoid of colour that it cannot simply be faked. —
—.....—
Sylfinnier, frightened to walk to his ailing child's side, scowled at the relentless sight of her trembling back; aware that the demeanour she portrayed at the moment was as disheartening as any she had displayed whenever her soul suffered.
— That would be needed to be proved. —
Then his youngest child coldly said, unbothered to keep a concerned expression, to now portray one of shameless indifference as she continued to speak.
— Is it not suspicious? Lately, she has been ailing just at the "right time". How can I trust that my sister is not feigning her ailings when some time ago nothing ever happened to her? It is also strange that she keeps showing this to the Prince. Obviously, she's trying to get everybody's sympathy– —
— Stop right now, Theressa. —
