ZINA
It took everything in Zina to maintain her composure in the face of Jacen Vampage’s most surprising confession.
Yes, she had perhaps expected him to look miserable as it was said he had looked during the wedding banquet ball, but she hadn’t envisioned a full blown confession...an embarrassing one at that.
He had missed her? And on top of that he had the guts to even call her his mate.
"For your sake, I hope you never utter those words out again." Zina said with eyes that brewed of venom, wondering what she was doing there in the first place.
It was satisfying enough to see the man was miserable. But she had no intention of hearing of his unsavoury feelings for her that only arose from feelings of regret and jealousy.
Zina had seen n like him before. Those days during the Taga etkngs when rejected female mates would co to et her and tell her about how their forr mates who rejected them now wanted them back.
The storylines were usually the sa, just as Zina’s response was always the sa.
She would tell them never to take the man back. If he could reject a fated mate at his whim, then there was no promising that he wouldn’t do the sa whenever what brought him back finally faded.
In most cases it was the fact that a family mber suddenly left the woman with a large fortune, and in other cases, it was that a high enough man—or even n—had set their eyes on the rejected woman. That was often more than enough to spur regret and jealousy in the man who had made the rejection, so Zina had been forced to learn well enough that such fleeting emotion should never be spared a thought.
Naturally, her counselling followed the sa line of thought.
Her days playing marriage/relationship counsellor hadn’t been that fun to say but the least, but she was glad that she had gotten sothing right back then.
Jacen’s eyes seed to glitter with a challenge that Zina only found comical. Did the man think he stood a flicker of chance before her, even as a married woman? If he did house such crazy thoughts, then where did his confidence stem from? His looks? His standing? His vast fortune?
As far Zina could tell he had none.
He was about to open his mouth and spew sothing that would probably give her an eternal headache when Zina froze him with her words.
"Thank you, Jacob Vampage, for rejecting all those years ago." She said, although she hardly sounded grateful. More like haughty.
From behind, she could hear Caspian struggling to contain his laughter while the man before her stared at her confused. What? Had no woman done the exact sa thing that she was currently doing.
Zina smiled. "Of all favours that has been done to in my small life, your rejection has to be the biggest of them all. So please tell what reward you would like for helping avoid making the biggest mistake a woman could ever make."
Indeed, ending up with the wrong man was the biggest and most fatal mistake a woman can make. Zina had seen enough of it play out in her limited life ti. From the smallest family shattering, to the biggest family like that of Eldric and Bella self destructing.
That was a hard core fact that stood undisputable.
Jacen clenched his fists, her words spurring him into premature anger. He had probably not expected her gratitude, which only made her curious of what he had expected in the first place.
"I seek no reward," he gritted with finality, about to leave with the last shred of sha that he still possessed.
As if Zina would leave their conversation at that.
"Nonsense," Zina exclaid like he was being ridiculous, "you must rewarded for your great efforts six years ago." She declared to the hearing of many that tried hard not to laugh in the face of the Vampage’s Heir embarrassnt.
Caspian had not such reservation... the man actually had the guts to laugh out loud.
Jacen, face red, shook from an anger he couldn’t even possibly express. Malik Zorch would dismber him should he try any nonsense in the first place and he knew well of that fact.
"I said it’s not necessary...." He repeated again in a voice that shook.
"And I said that is nonsense...." Zina declared more firmly, "what shall I reward you with?" She mused out loud, pretending to be thinking of it.
Finally she said to Ablanch. "Deliver one of the Temple’s Pass to Heir Vampage later. On any day he should want to journey to the North and have advise him on any matter, he will be able to do so with it... after waiting in the queue like everyone of course."
That was what drove his embarrassnt to the peak, the re declaration of Zina offering him a pass that almost every citizen of the Arctic North could easily acquire. It was both a pitable reward and an embarrassing one at.
Ablanch bowed, "I shall have it done your majesty."
"Why are you not saying your thanks, heir Vampage?" Caspian drawled, poking at his half-brother who was practically tomato red at that point. "You’ve just been rewarded by her majesty and your attitude is not nice in the least."
Zina didn’t wait for his thanks though. Satisfied enough with her pettiness, she left the man vibrating from his sha and headed for Daemon’s office instead.
There, she t Marcus DireWolf and Fionna locked in a fierce argunt before Daemon’s infamous square table that had the map of Vraga engraved on it. Daemon himself seed to be dumb to their argunt for he wordlessly kept on flipping through a boom of so sort.
"You’re not even a trained scout, what do you know of advanced scent tracking?" Fionna scoffed loudly, "I would say we start investigating Seraph’s scent from the borders."
"And what would a trained torturer know about advanced scent tracking yourself?" Marcus drawled in the sa broody manner he always did. Except this ti, his eyes glittered like he wished to win that round badly. "I say we start tracking her scent from the city itself. The borders are too far off, her captor might not have made it there yet."
Fionna scoffed out loud like she was hearing the most ridiculous thing in the world. "How could you not know of counter tracking? Surely, it’s common sense to assu this captor must have co through the borders and then track by retracing his steps."
"It is not that I don’t know of it, Delta NorthSteed." Marcus said lethally, almost in Fionna’s face. "It is that I know that it would be far too ti consuming. By the ti we are done, they might have already made it out of the city through so devious ans."
"You’re rely speculating, Beta DireWolf." Fionna gritted, standing on her toes to match Marcus’ insane height. "I understand that you spent the better part of your days fighting a war, but I on the other hand know the field better than you do."
"And here she goes overestimating herself over again. I understand you’re new to your post, but if you’re unwilling to learn from people that know better than you, then I am afraid you make a gross error."
Zina cleared her throat multiple tis at the uncomfortable... almost personal exchange but she might have been invisible to the duo. Ten more of Daemon’s closest subordinates both from the DireWolf and NorthSteed Pack surrounded a far bigger table, watching the exchange uncomfortably.
Finally, Daemon’s dark eyes left the book he was studying and drank her in.
Zina swallowed. He looked as though he had worked out through the night. Against the velvet shirt he was wearing, his muscles protruded deliciously and his Adam’s apple worked up and down while he took her in.
It was he that broke the chatter. "We won’t be doing any form of advanced scent tracking in the first place." He announced, successfully decimating the duo’s argunt with just one punch.
Then he dropped the book. "We shall be taking a break. We have been on this all night after all and we are in need to have our minds refreshed." He spoke, eying particularly the man and woman that stood before him.
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