Captured Part I
Zebediah Duncan observed his prize from across his desk. His fingers traced the familiar scar running from his left ear to his chin. A cruel smile rested upon his lips. It was his turn for revenge.
The girl slumped in the chair in front of him had long dark hair rippling down her back. Underneath her closed eyelids were eyes of a resplendent green hue. Golden earrings dangled from her ears, only to be complemented by a softly colored blue dress. A thick rope bound her to a chair.
He watched her interestedly as her eyelids fluttered open. To his surprise she did not struggle, just attempted to sit up straighter. Her expression was cold, yet it somehow added to her ambiance. Zebediah leaned back in his chair, pressing the tips of his fingers together.
“Princess Mariana, I presume?” She did not answer. He had expected this.
“Well then, if you do not speak, I shall,” Zebediah said. “Very well. Princess, I do not wish to harm you in any way. All I want from you, or your father, is to be granted what I am owed.”
“What is that?” She spoke confidently, though quietly.
“Let’s just say it’s a private matter between your father and myself.” Zebediah touched the line on his face, grimacing.
“My men will find you and kill you,” she said sharply. The man signaled to someone at the door, who pulled it back creakily on its rusty hinges. “You mean these men?”
Marianna turned as best she could to survey her soldiers. Their hands were bound, and they had been robbed of their weapons. Slowly she recollected the forest, the ambush, the darkness…
Zebediah’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife. “You’re not going anywhere until I receive a summons from the king, in which you will accompany to your kingdom.” He leaned over and reached for a quill. Dousing the tip in ink, he inscribed words onto the parchment. The ink gleamed as he sat back, examining his work. “Oberon, take this.” A man hurried forward and delicately removed the paper from sight.
“Florizel,” he called. Another man came to a halt by the princess’s side. “I’m sure your father has tought you how to defeat soldiers, and I’m sure you could easily overtake mine. I’m sorry, but I can’t have you causing any trouble.” He nodded, and Florizel hit her roughly on the side of her head. Carefully untying her, the man carried her out the door, her head bobbing unconciously over his shoulder. Zebediah ran his fingers over his scar for a third time, staring at the far wall.
“Well met, King Thurio, well met,” he murmurred.
And he too left the room, letting the small patter of rain on the windows begin.
