Chapter 203: 203 - a bowstring
203
~Belinda’s POV
I leaned back against the pillows, watching as uncle Fridolf walked out of my chamber. The heavy door closed behind him with a soft thud. For a brief second, my eyes followed the door, wondering what he was really planning. Uncle Fridolf always spoke in half-answers, always with that sly little smile that told you he knew far more than he said.
But then I smirked. Why should I bother worrying? He said he would handle it, and I believed him. Damon could rage, but in the end, I still had someone clever enough to move the strings for me. If uncle Fridolf wanted me to join hands with him, good. I didn’t trust anyone else anyway.
I stretched on the bed, letting out a long sigh. My stomach twisted in hunger.
"Guard!" I called, my voice sharp enough to echo against the stone walls.
The heavy door creaked open. The guard Uncle Fridolf brought walked in. He stood straight, solid, like someone who belonged here on his own terms.
"Yes, my lady?" His voice was steady, low, almost too calm for a man in armor.
I waved a hand lazily. "Bring me food. Real food. Not the slop they usually send. I want roasted meat, bread, fruit, and wine. Do you understand?"
There was no hesitation. No muttering about orders. He gave the slightest nod. "I’ll get it."
And just like that, he left.
Minutes later, he returned with a tray so heavy it made the doorframe groan as he walked in. The smell of roasted meat, warm bread, and rich wine filled the chamber, cutting through the stale air. My lips curved in satisfaction as he set it on the table near my bed.
"Better," I murmured, reaching for the wine jug.
He didn’t leave like the other guards would have. He lingered, steady as stone, his arms at his sides. Watching.
I narrowed my eyes at him, then smirked. "Come closer."
I picked up the goblet, filled it with wine, and took a slow sip. The sweet burn spread down my throat. I licked my lips and looked at him.
"Why are you still standing like a statue?" I asked. "Sit."
He looked startled. "My lady... it would not be proper..."
I gave a sharp laugh. "Proper? You think I care about proper?" I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "Sit. Unless you want me to get bored and find another way to amuse myself."
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the chair across from me, his back stiff as a rod.
"Good," I said, taking another bite of meat. "Tell me, what’s your name?"
He cleared his throat. "Adrik, my lady."
"Adrik," I repeated, rolling the name on my tongue. "Strong name. Tell me, Adrik, do you enjoy guarding me? Standing outside my door all day, watching nothing, hearing me yell at the walls?"
He hesitated, then said carefully, "It is my duty, my lady."
I laughed again, softer this time. "Duty. Always duty. Men like you hide behind that word because it’s easier than admitting you’re miserable."
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer.
I leaned back, swirling the wine in my cup. My eyes lingered on him. He wasn’t bad-looking, broad shoulders, sharp jawline, eyes that tried too hard to stay cold.
"You’re not ugly," I said suddenly.
His head snapped up, shock flashing across his face. "My lady?"
"You heard me," I said smoothly. "You’re not ugly. Stiff, yes. A little dull. But not ugly."
Color rose to his cheeks. "I... I thank you, my lady."
I smirked, enjoying the way he squirmed. "Tell me, Adrik... can you satisfy a woman?"
His whole body jerked as if I had struck him. His eyes widened, his mouth opening then snapping shut. He stared at me, stunned into silence.
I laughed, long and sharp, the sound filling the room. "Oh, don’t look at me like that! Did you think I was serious?" I leaned forward, my eyes glinting. "I was joking. Only joking. Relax."
He swallowed hard, still staring. "My lady... that is not... That is not something I expected you to say."
"Of course not," I said, sipping my wine again. "That’s why it was fun."
He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. I loved it. Watching men squirm always brought me a twisted kind of joy. They thought they were strong, untouchable, but one sharp word, one teasing smile, and they lost all balance.
"Tell me, Adrik," I went on lazily, swirling the cup of wine in my hand as I studied him. "Do you have a wife? A lover? Someone waiting for you when your duties are done?"
He stiffened just slightly, but his face betrayed nothing at first. Then he cleared his throat, his voice low, steady, almost too steady. "No, my lady. I have no one."
I let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the cushions, pretending to be disappointed. "How tragic," I murmured, feigning a pout, letting my lips curve downward just enough to tease. "A strong man like you, no woman to warm his bed?"
At that, his ears betrayed him. They flushed red, though he tried to keep his eyes down, his expression blank, his posture as stiff as ever. He wasn’t like the palace guards who fidgeted under my gaze, who stammered and broke into sweat whenever I taunted them. No, Adrik held himself with control, though I could see the tension building in the tight line of his jaw.
"My life is service, my lady," he said finally, his voice clipped, as if the words themselves were armor. "I have no time for such things."
I smiled at that, sharp and amused, leaning forward slightly, studying his broad shoulders, the way his hands curled around the chair’s edge. "What a shame," I purred, tilting my head. "All that strength, all that discipline, and no one to enjoy it."
He shifted, just barely, but it was enough to amuse me. His grip tightened, his knuckles pale against the wood. He avoided my eyes, as if he feared that one look might betray what he was truly feeling.
"My lady... please..." he muttered, the words strained.
I raised an eyebrow, my smirk widening. "Please what?" I asked softly, deliberately, enjoying the way his composure faltered. "Please stop? Please don’t tease you? Or... please continue?"
His breath hitched, his chest rising just a fraction too quickly, and I laughed, a rich, unbothered sound that filled the room. The tension only amused me further.
"Relax, Adrik," I said at last, leaning back and waving a careless hand. "I told you, I was joking. Don’t be so tense. You’ll snap like a bowstring if you keep winding yourself that tight."
I sipped my wine slowly, savoring his discomfort like the finest entertainment.