William tried to quell the white hot fury churning through him. He felt like punching anything and everything he could get his hands on. If Richard hadn't left the room when he did, William didn't think he would've been able to stop himself from punching his lying, devious face until the man was half dead.
He'd never felt such uncontrollable rage before. Not towards his enemies on the battlefield, not even toward his own father. He had known those people never cared a thing about him. But to find that very same thing out about a man he had always relied on and admired as his great friend...
William looked around the room wildly, seeking an object he could vent his anger and hatred and disillusionment on - and then he noticed the young woman hunched in the corner with her knees drawn up against her chest.
