Long legs were tucked underneath a slender frame draped in cerulean and gold. Gentle hands remained on her lap, steady as a rock as she herself was a statuesque vision. Light was absorbed in her viridian, glassy depths, as she looked around with alertness. With curls still bound to a bun, adorned with ornate pins, Sarah was dressed for a ceremony - not for one that took place in this shed.
She didn’t know what was going on, if this was a ploy for one of her enemies. But, as far as she was concerned, the wars had ended and all of them had been on trial. So who would dare take the Duchess away from her realm, for the move was a bold one, albeit a foolish attempt to trigger more problems.
But what bothered her so much was not the fact that she was captured as much as how? How did they manage to pluck her while she was getting ready in her own chambers? With this thought alone, she remained silent, contemplating the events over and over in her head.
It wasn’t until the string of profanities roused her back from her thoughts and her attention snapped up to the man who worked the keys. Sarah watched him quietly while lifting her chin up so her face would face the unwelcoming light, washing its glow over her features.
Sarah stood up finally with hay attached to the fabric of her robes and dress. When he came in with the display of bread and water, Sarah felt a wash of relief run over her. They intended her to keep her alive; she came to the conclusion that these were not the hunters from years past - they would have killed her and not given her at least the pleasure of having some shelter.
“Thank you,” she whispered in his direction, but did not expect kind words to fall from his scornful lips. But she attempted to have some sort of conversation, something to help her put these pieces together.
Looking over the tray, she reached for it and allowed her green depths, scrutinizing and alluring as they were, to settle on his features. “Where, where am I?” Sarah didn’t know she was pulled out of her own realm, the thought never crossed her mind.
They intended to keep her alive until they determined how useful - or useless more like - she was. She was unusually composed; most shrieked or screamed or cried or babbled (if they had voices of course) before subsiding into a disturbed and shocked quiet. But this strange woman, with her hair burgundy as the flower pressed into the button hole of Basta’s shirt, this woman had remained something like calm; and since he had heard not a peep out of her since she had arrived, he had begun to suspect she was as mute as Resa.
Fortunately. he had set the tray down on a hay bale before she spoke, so when words did finally come from her lips, he did not drop anything in surprise.
Prisoners did not thank him. He watched her with his narrowed eyes, and kept himself firmly planted between her and the door, which he had not yet shut. (Cocky of him, perhaps, but even without the knife at his belt, he could have handled this woman. The boy who had been standing guard had a shot gun anyway.) But it seemed that this woman did not have plans to escape; which was both smart and stupid of her, he thought. Smart, because he wouldn’t attempt an escape into unfamiliar territory without gleaning any knowledge first; and stupid, because if she didn’t get out now, she probably never would.
Basta almost laughed when she asked him that. Where was she, indeed. “Far enough away from home you’ll never make it back.”
She had to wonder, didn’t anyone warn him about the quiet ones. They were the ones you really had to watch out for. Sarah was not exception to those small facts of life. She didn’t indicate any danger, for she still wore a gentle smile and her eyes were nothing but kind.
The woman’s eyes, though compassionate, had something veiled behind them. Her eyes traveled from his visage journeyed past his neck and to what he wore. Lastly, her gaze ended on his belt. She saw no weapon on him, which made her think if he underestimated her, especially since he had left the door open.
But that made her wonder what was past it, she was eager to know where she was.
His laugh brought no comfort, but it did nothing to shift her placid demeanor. Sarah began to roll her shoulders, letting the robes slip free from her arms and reveal the rest of her gown. She pulled her hands away and then returned them to the tray. The glass was picked up and she drank the water slowly while never letting her gaze wander far from where he stood.
“Ah, you really believe so?” The glass was lowered from her lips, though was gripped firmly. The offer of bread wasn’t appealing, but it will do. “What makes you so sure?” Her inquiry was innocent enough, “One has to wonder, how you got past my guardsmen, took me from my chambers and somehow managed to elude being seen. Using a form of magic?"