“What the hell is going on with you, Mads?” I screech when I can’t take it anymore, with her moping.
For almost a whole week now, she has been off her rocker. She can’t seem to concentrate well on the meetings. Not like she usually does, anyways. The well of bright ideas and strategies, seem to have run dry for her this week.
I think I know exactly who is to blame for it, too. And I intend to do something about it.
We are sitting in the mess hall, eating a quick breakfast before we head out to meet the aid caravan, that we need to escort safely.
“What?” she looks up from her full bowl of dragon oats.
“Don’t ‘What’ me. You have been off, all f*****g week. It's because of him, isn’t it,” I ask, indicating towards the fancy prince, whose sitting at the royal table with his family and b*
