"And you didn't forget too," Daphne finished quietly. There was no way to prove Atticus was telling the truth, but there was also no way to prove he was lying. It was Atticus's word, a series of damning similarities, and a wrong that lasted generations.
"How could I?" Atticus laughed, but there was no mirth. "Vramid was an utter shithole before I took over. My grandmother was a princess who should have married nobility and lived the rest of her life in luxury, but instead, she hid in the slums of Vramid and got married to a cobbler, who then died when sickness spread. Her son, who should have been king, made his living bowing his head to corrupt officials."
"And you decide to take revenge on the whole world just because of one mistake?" Daphne burst out, her hands clenched into fists at her side.