Chapter 93 Dining With The Devil

• I sat on the edge of the bed, watching Freya as she slept. Her face was streaked with the remnants of tears, her breathing soft and uneven. She had cried so hard she’d passed out from sheer exhaustion.
• The maids had come in earlier, quietly tending to her offering water, placing a cool towel on her head, trying to comfort her in the only ways they knew how. But when she woke, she could barely speak. Her voice was a whisper of itself, and her eyes were lost, like she was somewhere far away. She eventually drifted back to sleep, completely drained.
• I rose to my feet slowly, grabbing my bag. My eyes lingered on her for a moment longer. Something about her father’s death didn’t sit right with me.