ZINA
It was the night to the coronation and Zina was sure there was just a tiny thread to which her sanity hung on.
She clenched and unclenched her fists. Tugged and untugged at her hair. Screamed out of her window, and cried out of it. Stared at her ceremonial, very gorgeous dress, and resisted the urge to shred it to pieces.
For the last three days, she lived in a torture and torment like no other, and all because she was trying to figure out the ambition of Daemon NorthSteed.
Three nights ago, when she had been sitting at an elevated height on his table and when he had stared up at her from his chair, something Zina feared she had always known had become abundantly clear to her. And that was the fact that Daemon had barely offered half of himself to her.
They were supposedly getting married, he says his ambition is to be her husband, and yet, how was it that he felt forever distant.