207
~Fridolf's POV
I sat down hard on the floor, the wood groaning under me. My chest rose and fell with anger I could not hold in. My jaw clenched so tight it ached. I wanted to shout. I wanted to break something. Even the maids, those little shadows who were meant to bow and fear me, now looked down on me. They dare to question why I had to touch them when they belonged to me!
I gripped the arm of the chair, nails digging into the wood.
I slammed my fist on the table. "I need the throne. I need it now. Or they will crush me like an insect."
The walls did not answer. The silence in my room only grew heavier.
I leaned back, closing my eyes. My thoughts drifted to Belinda. Poor, foolish Belinda, locked in shame, her face always pale with worry. She was useful, but only if I saved her. And saving her would mean saving myself.
I whispered, "Belinda must be freed."
But how?
