Marabella

Chapter 5. Cynbel's Wrath

"Come Marabella," he snapped, turning in the doorway leaving her to hurry after him.

Wondering what she could've possibly done wrong Marabella had to almost run to keep up with her Father's long strides. Could he have found out about her trips into the forest? She felt suddenly very cold and clammy. What if he knew about Cillian? She had never been expressly told not to befriend servants but she was sure it wouldn't be allowed. Her father had always valued class. He liked to remind people of their 'place in society'.

Cynbel led her into a passage off the main hall and swept back a rather old and dusty tapestry of some great, ancient battle to reveal a door. Marabella knew what this meant and considered appealing to her father's better nature. She then decided against this tactic. She didn't want him to turn violent. They walked and walked down step after step. With each step Bella felt her heart beat faster and faster. Terrified.

Cynbel stopped so abruptly Marabella walked straight into him. They had reached a room. A room she knew all too well.

"Get in," he pushed her roughly so she fell, sprawled on the cold floor. It was more cell than room.

"Father, please," she croaked, her voice seemed to have stopped working properly. This room had been where Cynbel had sent his daughters since they were small children. Even the thought of it was enough to make them blanch.

"You embarrassed me yesterday girl. David Malcom is the heir to his Father's estate and you refused to speak to him. He spent the whole night dancing with girls and none of them were you!"

He was shouting now and Marabella quaked under his glare, she felt the power radiating from him, a magic which ran through him like blood.

Marabella couldn't help but wonder why he was so angry at her. She had three sisters he could be blaming yet he had to blame her. This question was soon answered however.

"Your sisters have been building relationships with young men since their own Summer Balls. I wouldn't be surprised if there were three engagements announced within the next few days."

Bella groaned, pressing her hand to her head, it was aching painfully. Each word her Father spoke was another jarring pain threatening to split her head in two. His magic was like a knife to her skull.

"You're weak girl," he said venomously, looking at his daughter with something remarkably like hatred, "You will stay here tonight and we'll see if you don't behave better for your Summer Ball."

And with that sank back into the shadows locking the door with an echoing click.

Pure fury boiled up inside Marabella and she kicked the door in anger. Now her foot was throbbing too. It took a long time for the frustration to subside but when it did she was left feeling simply tired. For that was the power of the room, it played with the occupant's emotions; it drained any magical powers they may posses until they were mere shadows of their former selves.

Marabella paced across the cold floor, counting spiders, counting tiles, counting knots in the wood on the door: anything to make time pass faster. Finally she collapsed onto the small wooden cot in a bleak state of lethargy.

She fell into an uneasy sleep, her dreams punctuated by the thump thump thump of her head.

Thump thump thump.

"Shut up, I'm sleeping," she groaned rolling over, the hard cot digging painfully into her ribs.

Thump thump thump!

"Bella it's me!" Came an excited whisper.

She jolted awake and promptly fell off the tiny bed onto the very hard floor.