Duke Frelie was fuming with anger.
The Princess of Tollyria was his. His to play with. His goods to trade. And he was furious because the King had ordered one of his henchmen to spoil the princess.
How dare the King toiled what was his when he was the one who let him rise to that king's seat?
When he heard the subtle moans over the music, he froze. Not just him, but the whole floor froze. Soon, the musician stopped playing, too. Soon, the only sound they heard was the exasperated scream of someone in deep pleasure.
“Where is your bride to be, Duke?” asked the King in front of Duke Frelie’s face. At that exact moment, his face was red with anger.
“What have you done?” he spitted to the King.
The King smiled lazily and instead raised his voice so that all in the ballroom could he
