Days started to blur together for Zaria. If it was not for her time alone in the duke's quarters where she could sit her phone by the window to charge the battery, she would have no idea how much time had actually passed. Sixty seven days total in the new world, longer than the time she spent in City C. There were the first three weeks spent out in the rain and later recovering in the little room, then 46 days since becoming the personal maid of the duke. Personal maid sounded so clean and neat, though. Really, she had become his captive. Unable to leave the room at all, a guard stationed at the door to ensure that. There was no other way to describe her current position. A trunk of random sewing and embroidery supplies, as well as sketchbooks and coal pencils was delivered after a few days of being trapped in the man's room. It was obvious it was done as an afterthought and gathered by someone who had no idea what was actually needed to do any of the activities. There was an embroidery hoop and canvas to sew on, but there was no embroidery thread. Only regular thin sewing thread. Small scraps of fabric, but not enough of any one of them to make anything worthwhile. Sketchbooks and little sticks of coal, but no pencils. It was obvious the duke had told a male guard "Go get girl leisure stuff and take it to my room" and the guard was like "uhmmmmm I think girls do these things so I will grab stuff and it will be fine."
She supposed she should be grateful she received anything at all. Days would pass where no words were spoken beyond "Lay down, I am ready for bed." On the more talkative days, usually prompted by Zaria asking for her bracelet or to be let go, there might be more. "You would really leave and let your liege suffer through pain that you could not begin to imagine?" She did feel a bit guilty about that. There was no harm being done to her. Besides boredom, she was not mistreated. For the cost of holding someone's hand during the night and being bored she was given meals twice daily (after the first week where the duke forgot about her entirely and she feigned weakness so that he would schedule for something to be sent up), she had a roof over her head, and she was not exposed to wolves and other things that might want to eat her out in the woods. It was not like she would be there forever. The world obviously had magic, the duke and the saintess being the most obvious example of that. Eventually, the pendant would charge again, and she would grab her stuff and be gone.
The duke eventually gave up on trying to remove the pendant from her neck. It bothered him that an obviously magical item with no clearly displayed purpose was around his servant's neck. It refused to let itself be removed by anyone other than Zaria, and she pretended that it would not break or budge for her either. He still had her bracelet. She was angry enough about that, and it only had sentimental value. He was not taking her way out as well.
Zaria was not sure why, when surrounded by much more obvious magic than the last world, the pendant had not recharged yet. It could be due to the curse. The curse may have been magic, but it was intended to disrupt the magic of the duke. Its disruptive nature was absorbed by her every night to leave the Duke in better condition, but that disruptive nature could be impeding the regular magic in the air from getting to her during the night. It was all just supposition, though. Zaria had no idea how magic worked, and no idea how the pendant worked other than sucking up magic like the photocell on her phone sucked up sunlight. She just wished it worked soon.
The hope that the saintess would put an end to the captivity was dashed upon her arrival. The one time that she came to see the maid that was helping her betrothed, she profusely thanked the little maid for taking care of his grace so well. It was obvious that the slight woman had no interest in doing it herself. She and the duke treated each other coldly during those few minutes they were in his quarters together, and Zaria could not imagine the woman lowering herself to lay next to him in bed all night.
A week before their wedding, Duke Berber walked into his quarters carrying a roll of paper and a quill pen and placed them on the little table in front of where Zaria was sitting by the window. He ordered her to sign the paper and went into his already prepared bath. Zaria unrolled the paper curiously and began to read. By the time that he left the bathing area in his robe, she was on her third read through, her brows gathered in the middle.
"What is this?" She asked him quietly.
"When I marry the Saintess Anna, you will become my legal concubine. You need to sign it so that there will not be any problems with your rights in the future."
"I'm not becoming your concubine," she said louder as she stood up and walked toward him. "If she has a problem with this arrangement with me, then can't she just take over holding your hand at night?"
"Her ability does not work the same as yours and would not be as efficient. Also, the Saintess has brought up a very valid point about our future children. If she is the one who carries them, then her ability will lessen her own shared side effects from the curse that will have been passed on to the baby. But it will not stop the curse from taking hold of them. However, with the way your ability works, the curse will not have a chance to take hold at all. You would absorb it before that could happen. So, to make my children legitimate, you will need to officially have status under my name." He ignored her incredulous look and dropped his robe to the floor as he pulled out his night clothes.
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Zaria turned around quickly, no longer shocked by his disregard for her comfort. "I am not having your children, if that is what you are saying. I have no interest in being intimate with you, and I thought that was not going to be a problem for you. That was why I agreed to our current arrangement."
"I have no interest in it either other than to keep this curse from passing on to my children. Once you are pregnant, there will be no other interactions of that kind until it is time for the next one. We will figure out some way to make it work..." Zaria felt a hand on her arm swinging her around to face him, while his other hand boldly reached up and patted her waist and grabbed her breast through her uniform as he continued, "your uniform seems to be hiding your real figure, perhaps it won't be so bad-"
A sharp slap echoed through the room as her hand connected to his face. Golden fire leaped from his eyes, and he pushed her hard against the bed post, his hand wrapping around her neck and squeezing.
"You will never do that again," he hissed at her, his face only inches from her own. His face was transformed by rage, and light from his eyes cast shadows on his frightening visage. "I have given you far too much freedom, it would seem. You are my property, and I do not have to ask you for permission. You can do this willingly or not. That is your choice. But -" His hand squeezed harder, and the wheezing gasps stopped completely, her eyes losing focus with the complete blockage of air. "This doesn't have to be unpleasant more than you make it. You have been given a great gift to bear my children and give them a life better than the one I have been given."
His hand loosened, and she dropped to the ground, choking on the oxygen trying to fill her lungs. "Sign the paper tomorrow, or it will be signed for you." He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the bed and threw her on top of it. From somewhere underneath, he pulled out out a short chain and clasp that attached to the bedframe, attaching it to her left hand before climbing onto his side and connecting their hands with the usual manacle. "I had hoped that I would never have to do our nights this way, but until you have calmed down, it is what we will do."
The room was dark, all lamps extinguished, by the time Zaria was in control of her breathing again. She struggled against the chains, throwing her body against them, trying to get free. The man laying next to her in the dark sighed, "If you don't settle down, I will make you go to sleep. I would rather not."
Zaria stilled, her eyes open wide and straining to see in the dark. "That's better," he said, exhaustion heavy in his voice. "You have a week to get used to the idea and learn to accept it. After the first night that I have to spend in the Saintess' quarters, we will begin. I am not looking forward to it either."
"Then don't do it," she whispered into the dark.
"You would really force a child to go through torment every day just to make yourself more comfortable?" He admonished her around a yawn. "We can't be that selfish, Miss Joseph."
Zaria did not say anything else, and soon she heard the soft snores signaling that he was asleep already. Moving quietly, she touched the chain where it connected to the bedpost, running her finger along the seems of the clasp there. There was no space for a key, and she wondered if it was triggered by magic. Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she let her hand drop back onto her pillow, the only place it could reach and not just be hanging.
All night, her eyes stayed open. Until the moment the parchment landed on the table, there had been no real tangible threats since the whole ordeal began that night behind the restaurant. Even if things were unpleasant, there was the promise of a way out with the magical pendant around her neck. She knew how lucky she had been in her previous universe now. There was pain and frustration, but there was no real threat to her, and she was able to run away any time she wanted. That complacency carried over into the new universe, and even when the weird arrangement at night began, she was not scared. What would the heroines in the stories inspired by this universe do? Placating and behaving cutely wouldn't help. Fighting back would just bring her more pain. The memory of fingers wrapped around her throat was still vivid due to the ache and burning, and the difficulty when swallowing her saliva.
The next morning, the chain was removed nonchalantly, and she was allowed to move around the room freely while the duke was doing his work. Zaria wrapped her fingers around the stun gun she pulled from her bag, fighting the urge to put it in the pocket below her apron with her phone. The multitool and anything else that could be used as a weapon had been taken before the bags were brought to the room those weeks ago, but nobody knew what the little plastic box with a cartoon bunny on it was for, and it was deemed not a threat to the duke. She slid it back into the bag. A stun gun was very unlikely to knock a person unconscious, and she would only be able to use it once before it was taken from her. Even if she got past the duke, the guard outside the door would be on alert after the cries and sounds of struggle. No, she would save it until she had a plan. And she had less than a week to come up with one.