Zara paced like a caged animal, her bare feet scraping furiously against the stone floor. The room was stifling. Every breath felt like fire in her chest, and every second stretched like torture. Her nails itched to scratch something—someone—but all she had were hide dresses and a useless fur bed that mocked her with its stillness.
She stopped suddenly, fists clenched, jaw tight, her breath ragged.
Where was Kian?
Where was the man who was supposed to kneel at her feet, offer her the world with a single look? It had been an entire day. One full day of silence. One entire sun cycle since she'd made a scene before the whole village—begging, crying, humiliating herself just to make him glance her way. And what did she get?
Not even a shadow of him.
He hadn't visited. Hadn't passed by. Hadn't even looked in her direction.
Her throat burned with suppressed screams. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she swallowed them down, letting fury take root instead.
