ZINA
Zina understood the full gravity of her situation when she realized that she might as well have been screaming at a wall for Marcus remained as stoic as ever.
There was not a single scathing remark from the man. Not a single bite back from him. Not even the usual sublily sarcastic ’Theta’ he would say to her.
"At least I can have my maidservant, no?" Zina finally said in a voice that was scratched from having to scream too much. Her words were both a plea and a an act of peace on her part. She knew defeat when she saw one, and currently, she was defeated.
Daemon, no matter his reasons, was finally showing her just how powerless she could be under his iron fist. That iron fist of his had finally closed in on none other than her, and she had to admit, it was quite suffocating.
Instead of answering her, Marcus revealed a long, wrapped thin thing that one of the servants had been bearing.
"I’ve brought back your staff as his majesty promised."
Zina stared at the thing for a second, before with shaky hands she collected it from him. So much happened in just a day that she had almost forgotten about Freya Fergus’ death.
"Was the staff truly the cause of her death."
"Yes. The coroners report showed that the staff was forcefully slammd against her chest. It shattered her rib cage and went through her heart."
"It did...?" Zina muttered more to herself than in response to Daemon’s words while she stared at the staff gripped in her hands like it held the secrets to horrors and doomsday.
"I shall have your maidservant summoned, but once she enters your room, she will also be imprisoned."
"Until when will I be confined?"
"His majesty hasn’t said anything in that regards."
"I must attend the Taga etings soon, it’s been long overdue. Surely his majesty does not an to keep away from my duties simply because of so personal squabble."
Marcus stared hard at her for so seconds, before he stepped back from her to take his leave. "If that is all, I shall now take my leave. Please, try to eat. If not for anything but to ease his worries."
To ease his worries? What about her own worries? Never in Zina’s life had she heard words so hypocritical, so to send a ssage to Daemon that she certainly didn’t care for his worries, she snagged one of the plates from the servants, threw it against the wall closest to Marcus’ receding figure.
The glassware shattered and the servants gasped from surprise at her out of character behavior, but Zina paid them no heed, her attention on Marcus.
The shattering glassware gave him a stop, but he didn’t turn back to her. Shaking his head like he found her unbelievable, he continued his exit like nothing had happened.
Zina stared at the food that dripped off the plate and stained the walls. She vowed to not eat for a whole day as penance for wasting food when many were hungry.
Addressing the servants still bearing the food and covering before her unusual rage she said. "Have the food sent back to the kitchen so it will be better served to those who actually have use for it. I’ve no appetite."
And with that, she stord back into her room, slamming the door behind her as though that would make her imprisonnt any less obvious.
She had to resist the temptation to have Seraph sent into her room at the mont since she knew that the smart girl was probably sohwere gathering information and looking for ways for Zina to escape this new hell of hers. Having her imprisoned alongside with herself was simply not a wise decision.
Zina slumped on her bed, staring at her ceiling while tears rolled down her cheeks. She was crying a lot that day which could be blad to her impending heat that was coming that night. That night, the full moon will be at its best, and the dicine Elder Sybril have her will not be able to do anything to stage away the second day of her heat.
She knew that much, but she had expected that she would finally be in Daemon’s hands and be taken as his woman. She had expected that the night would be the night he would fully accept her, and the he would sleep in his arms with more than just the title of his mate.
She had imagined the full moon shinning out her window while his fingers caressed her. She had imagined how she would pour out her worries to him at the aftermath of their intense pleasures, and how she would tell him about her mother and every other thing that bothered her.
But now, she was sure that her imaginations would remain just that... as re imaginations.
She knew that the only affection she would be recieving from him that night was a bucket of ice cold water that would be delivered to her room that night in order to stave her heat. And the thought caused her once cold tears to be boiling hot from the rage mixed with her spiralling emotions.
The thought had her standing up abruptly and storming for her door. She bolted it, then proceeded to use every heavy item she could move to hold the door in place in such a manner that it couldn’t be broken into.
Her heavy dressing table, her tea table, so of her cushions all held her door, barricading it from any outside intruder. Swearing and satisfied from the job she had just done, she nodded grimly to herself.
She would rather die from her heat than accept any of Daemon’s goodwill that was heavily embedded in his hot and cold attitude. This ti around, her resolve was set on a solid rock.
She looked about her room and realized that so of her windows were open. It couldn’t hurt to be extra careful, so she proceeded to lock in the bolts of the windows while drawing her curtains close. She was incensed when she realized that more Epsilons seed to be guarding her by her windows. Surely, Daemon didn’t expect her to throw herself from such a a towering distance just to escape his imprisonnt?
Of course he was right, if had occurred to her to do so, she would have attempted to do just that.
She tsked and proceeded to shred very cloth she was wearing until she was naked as the day she was born. She released her hair from the pins holding them until they spilled about her, and then she slumped on her bed. She entered under her heavy duvet that managed to wrap around her until she was buried in it and, before she knew it, sleep was knocking on her door.
That night was sure to be a painful and long one alright, but she would get through it no matter what. And when it gets too hard, she would rember the projection of her mother who was in so much pain and yet managed to try and save her daughter from harms way.
She would rember all the things that she had to fight for; her life, her position, her identity, and not surprisingly, Daemon NorthSteed.
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