ORLANDA‘S head still rang with Queen’s voice even long after the door clicked shut. That sharp, venom-laced tone swirling in her mind like a cruel echo she couldn’t shut off.

She sat there, on the edge of the small bed, feet pressed flat on the cold tiled floor. The room was warm, but goosebumps rose on her bare arms all the same. The air felt thicker now, heavier with questions she could not find answers to.

*He is tearing down walls for you.*

*He fined his guards two months’ salaries.*

*He is ignoring me because of you.*

The words replayed in her head like an old film on loop. Orlanda...