[Third Person].
Wanda flinched. Her ribs screamed with the movement, but Reginald noticed none of it. He was hell-bent on venting his anger.
And even if he noticed, nothing would have changed. His anger might have even tripled.
"Do you know what the elders are saying now?" he pressed. "That I miscalculated. That I allowed my personal grudges to blind me. That I dragged the council into disgrace."
His eyes darkened. "And Draven." The name came out like poison. "Draven will never forget this."
Wanda's pride finally cracked. "Father, Meredith provoked me," she whispered harshly. "She toyed with me. She was pretending to be weak. She made me—"
"Yes," Reginald cut in coldly. "She made you angry." Then, he leaned closer. "And you allowed it."
Wanda looked away. The memory of Meredith deflecting, stepping aside, yielding ground deliberately, almost lazily, replayed in her mind. The humiliation of realizing too late that she had been manipulated.
