"What did you say?"

"I need to use the bathroom," she whispered. Even the small amount of air needed to make those sounds tore at her dry, bruised throat.

"The chamber pot is right there. Why didn't you go before?"

"My hands, I can't," she whispered again.

A moment passed, and he realized what she was saying. "I ... suppose I can help take you over there..."

"No," she wheezed out quickly, bowing her head and coughing from the effort. Without adrenaline fueling her, she felt as though her limbs belonged to someone else, too heavy to move. "Please, don't make me use the bathroom while you watch. I promise I will not try and get away. Just free my hands for a minute."

He stared at her doubtfully.

"Please. I think I am sick and couldn't stand if I had to right now. How could I get past you with no weapons and no energy?"

After some thought, he agreed. He leaned her forward and removed the shackles. Circulation returned as her arms swung free, and she cried out, a dry croaking sound. After a moment of panting, she drug herself to the corner and leaned against the wall over the pot. "Please, could you turn off the light for a moment? You can close the door if you are worried I will crawl away..."

The duke nodded and kicked the door shut before extinguishing his light. There was a strange metal rasping sound and more shuffling from the corner, and then the unmistakable sound of liquid hitting the inside of the metal container. When that sound died away, and the other sounds replayed in reverse, he counted to ten and lit the room once more. Zaria sat slumped against the wall next to the chamber pot, her breath coming out in pained pants.

"Get back over here if you are done," he ordered, his eyes narrowed as she pulled herself slowly back against the wall. He put his hand to her forehead with a frown, but rather than feverish, her skin felt cold and clammy. Moving to her neck, her pulse was slower than he expected. He turned her around and settled her back against his arm. "Look what you have done to yourself. When was the last time that you ate? Did you sleep at all while you were gone?"

"Not...enough" she panted out, then closed her mouth and tried to swallow some saliva to help with the dryness in her throat. There was not enough in her mouth to make any difference, though. She refused to ask him for some water, the humiliation from asking for help to relieve herself more than she was ready to deal with that day. If he didn't want her to die, he would eventually bring her some water, wouldn't he?

A little time passed, and the arm around her waist pulled away, not bothering to straighten her shirt after it left. "Doing it that way is far too intimate for my liking. Touching of skin should be in the bedchamber. But it does work much faster with more skin contact, it seems. It has not even been an hour, and I feel almost the same as I did after a night holding just the hand. Your ability is fascinating. " He pulled her arms behind her back again and reattached the shackles.

"Do those have to be on?" She whispered, wincing as her shoulders were forced back into the uncomfortable position.

"Perhaps, if I can trust you not to try and attack me, we can let your arms go free. Do you think I can trust you right now?

Zaria was too tired to lie. Too many days of running, barely eating or drinking, and not enough sleep because she was scared to take the breaks for fear of being caught, and then the violence and pain when she was eventually captured again, left her more tired than she had ever been before in her life. She shook her head 'no' before shifting back into the corner. He did not say anything else, and soon the light cut off. The sound of the lock turning was the last thing she heard besides her own breath for a long time.

At some point, she did fall asleep, sheer exhaustion keeping her under despite the pain and fear that had her nerves raking fire under her skin. When her mind swam up from the depths of a restless sleep, she felt as though she had not slept at all. The urge to urinate was not as strong, and a pounding was beginning in her head, joining the ache in her face and neck to make a grand group party of pain above her shoulders.

She giggled as she thought about what she must look like, all bruised and battered. Her face felt swollen, and she wondered if she had a black eye. She had never had a black eye before. Then she frowned. The pain in her throat doubled when the near hysterical giggle escaped. Her brain felt off, and she couldn't focus. And that seemed to be something important that she should be worrying about, but worrying took too much energy.

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An entire day passed before the door opened again. Her gummy eyes opened and watched as his grace set down a glass of water before he pulled her forward and away from the wall, releasing her arms so that she could pull herself to the pot. She did not ask, but the light cut out once she was at the corner and did not turn back on until she was done. The duke was already sitting against the wall in the same position as the day before, and she drug herself over to sit nearby.

When he handed her the glass of water, her hands were shaking so badly that she almost dropped it. "If you spill it, you will not get anymore until tomorrow," he warned her with a frown. She let him take it back and dropped her hands into her lap while he slid his arm back into his new preferred position. "If you want help, all you have to do is ask."

"I want to be let go," she whispered before coughing, a pained groan coming out when she stopped. He did not respond, and a soft clink of glass told her he had set the water down on his other side. When he felt comfortably recharged, he put the restraints back around her wrists. He nudged the pot out of the room and placed a new one inside, and then left the room, taking the glass of water with him.

Zaria slid in and out of sleep. Her head felt heavy, and her bladder no longer felt the urgency from before even after she was alone for another night and day. She knew that she was getting too dehydrated, but her mind was having trouble sticking to one thought.

When the door opened the next night, she could not get her eyes to open all of the way, and when his light hit her eyes, she squeezed them shut again. As with the night before, he set the water down and reached around her to release her hands. Then he stood back, extinguishing the light. After several minutes and no sounds, he called the light forth once more to see her slumped in the same position as before. Her breathing was rough, no longer in pants as though she did not have the energy to commit even to that. Her lips were moving, though, and after a moment, he leaned forward to hear what she was saying.

"Please help me drink some water." Her voice was no louder than a breath, and he frowned at the condition she was in after only three days in the room. He rested his hand against her skin and found it cold, her lips pale and trembling beneath his fingers. The area that split back in the tent was scabbing over, but other areas looked as though they would start bleeding with the slightest pressure due to the skin being so dry. He sat down in his usual spot and steadied her head as he tipped the glass against her lips. The amount was too much, and she choked on it, her head turning to the side as she coughed water out onto the wall next to her. When she caught her breath, he raised the glass again, tilting it much more slowly and taking frequent breaks to make sure that she was swallowing it. Her face was screwed up in pain, and she was not half of the way through the glass when her stomach began to seize up. She turned her head to the side, a small amount of water trickling down her neck when the glass did not immediately move away.

"You need to drink more." He told her calmly, moving the glass back to her lips.

"I feel like I am going to throw up," she whispered, moving her lips away from the glass.

"I see. You can eat if you are ready to come upstairs. Are you done fighting me?" His lips pressed together tightly when her head shook slightly in response. Before he could admonish her for her stubbornness, there were sounds of struggle from somewhere down the hall, short yells, and the sound of metal on stone. The duke moved his arm out from behind her and settled her back against the corner she preferred. She didn't seem interested in the noises in the slightest. He frowned, looking down at her with irritation in his eyes. Despite looking as though breathing was too much effort, she was still fighting him. A calculating look replaced the irritation, and he turned away.

"I thought I felt someone watching the manor since last evening. It looks like they have decided to come and visit us." He stood up and walked out of the room, the light following him, leaving her alone and un-tethered with a small amount of illumination trickling in for the first time since she was dumped in the cold little room. The light flared from the hall, and there was a scream of pain, followed by another, and after a few moments, the duke came back, a dark tendril pulled taut behind him. When he got to the doorway, he yanked the line, and a body was flung into the room, landing hard with a groan several feet away. A dark head raised itself up, and familiar eyes filled with pain met hers.

Zaria shook her head as emphatically as she could. "You've already done this, don't you remember? You can't trick me with his face again." She closed her eyes and rested her head back against the wall again.

"Who is this man?" The duke asked coldly, sending a short wave of lightning into the man on the ground and smiling as he bit back a scream. "I recognize him from the bracelet's memories, but who is he to you?"

"I don't know who this is," she breathed with a pained sigh. "The man who gave me the bracelet is far away. You have already fooled me with his image once, but it won't work again."

"Touch him." The duke glared as she shook her head, and he shocked the main again. A pained groan filled the room but no more screams. "Touch him, and I will let you have something to eat. Would you like to be able to eat something today? Perhaps with some food in your stomach, you could have a little more water as well."

Zaria opened her eyes again, looking into the eyes of the duke for the first time since she was thrown into the little stone room. Her eyes struggled to focus on him, and after only seconds, they closed again. When nothing else was said, she forced herself to move forward, pulling herself across the ground to where the man lay, gasping in air around involuntary muscle spasms.

She placed her forehead on the ground when she drew up next to him for a moment, to rest before reaching her hand up to touch his face. Her breathing stopped when her fingertips pressed against warm flesh. The very faint smell of mountain snow and pine trees filled her nose. With a groan, she drug her hand down until her fingertips rested on the side of his neck, feeling his rapid pulse beneath them. A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye before she could stop it. "How..."