Torin was furious. And he was hurt.
He wanted to scream out every humiliation he had suffered in the human kingdom over the years, but all he got in return was not pity, not sympathy.
It was ridicule.
Contempt.
Disgust.
The truly great nobles of the human kingdom—which one of them wasn't of noble lineage, their titles passed down for generations? For Torin to climb to the peak of power was an impossibility; it would threaten the interests of too many people. And so, he was never accepted. He was always an outsider.
That's the look, he thought, his head bowed. The same look as always.
"You all think I'm weak," he muttered, his voice a ghostly rasp, terrifying and lonely. "You all think I'm an easy target, so you ignore me, you exploit me, you crush me."
