Wrath

Chapter 3

The king's gaze fell on the sniffling woman, her petite figure trembling with fear and anticipation, as he approached the chamber where Amara lay confined. This was good, the king reasoned; the more afraid she was, the more she would communicate without having to be physically wounded.
The king cleared his throat, announcing his presence in front of the pale woman and the doctor, who was checking on her. In order to give the monarch some privacy with his new prisoner, the doctor quickly left.
The doctor left, and the king turned to face her again. With a loud bang, he shut the door and stood next to her as she placed her head on the headboard.
"How are you?" The king inquired.
"Go...good," she stuttered. "How are you?" asked Amara. Amara asked back, as a courtesy.
The abrupt question took the king by surprise.
"I would be ecstatic if only you would tell me where your husband is?" The king gave a mocking response.
"Please, sir, I don't know. I haven't seen him for the last two months." Amara replied truthfully.
"Oh, is he now?" The king inquired as he approached Amara.
"How far along are you?" The king questioned Amara to see if there were any flaws in her claim. She simply said, "I am four months pregnant, sir."
"So Daniel knew that he was going to be a father, but he decided to run away?" the king asked her again as he hummed in pleasure.
Amara's eyes welled up with tears as she recalled the sorrowful moment when she told him she was expecting a child, as well as his response. She turned her head away, embarrassed that her husband wasn't thrilled about her pregnancy and ashamed that she couldn't keep her husband at home.
The king cleared his throat to warn her that he was still present, just as frightening and dangerous as he had been when they first brought her into the cell, and that she could not simply turn her head away from him to escape.
Amara shudders at the cruel king's presence and nods.
"May I ask you a question, please?" Amara asked, fearing that the king might behead her at this very moment. It was clear that he was not entirely right in his head, and she did not want to take any chances with herself or her baby.
The king simply stared at Amara, shaking the already-shook woman to her very core without saying anything in reply.
"What has my husband done?" Amara made the decision to inquire nonetheless, knowing full well that Daniel was a wealthy con artist who had made his fortune by deceiving wealthy people. Now that she was married to such a despicable man, putting both herself and the child at risk, Amara could only blame herself.
"What has he done?" The king looked down at his hands and chuckled softly. She wouldn't be shocked if Satan himself was speaking to her because of the way his voice reverberated.
Finally looking up from staring at his hands to her face, the king said, "The nerve of you to ask me such a question." When Amara gazed into his eyes, they were raw, red, and full of angry tears. His eyes held years of sorrow, misery, and, most importantly, wrath. He gritted his teeth and stalked towards Amara, grabbing her shoulders in a death hold. Despite the pain, she couldn't  tear away from his eyes.
For them both, the world appeared to come to a halt as his blue eyes, filled with sorrow, and hers, filled with disbelief and fear, caught on to one another.
She looked away from the king's intense gaze, and her lips quivered, red and irritated from her relentless biting. He gazed at her again, but this time she shrank back. The utter innocence in her eyes was too much for the monarch to bear. He left her shoulders and backed away, his hands rigid and closed, heaving as if he had completed a difficult task. The king could hear his heart beat. He swallowed heavily, still staring at the soft-looking woman. A sneer graced his face. He hated the fact that he felt sparks when he touched her. He hated how his heart raced and most importantly, he hated her. He should hate her after all, her husband Daniel took everything away from him. Despite being the king of Italy and a well-known member of the underworld's mafia, he possessed boundless wealth and authority, but his heart felt hollow after losing his beloved wife. He glanced at his arms again; he had held Esmeralda, his loving wife, in those same arms where she lay dead, her soulful innocent eyes lifeless, all because of Daniel. And Daniel's wife dared to possess the same innocence as his late wife.
He gulped hard and began leaving the room, but not before giving her another glance and recoiling at how unkempt she still appeared, her eyes swollen and red.
His calloused hands clearly left bruises on her shoulders where he had gripped her in anger. This woman was incredibly fragile, and he didn't like it one bit. She looked pretty.....pretty messy. The king groaned, "Get comfortable, woman."
Her cheeks flushed with what could be described as shame. Her lips quivered as she struggled to hold back her tears. "You will remain here for a very long time." he grumbled.
"For how long?" Amara muttered "For as long as you take to tell me where your husband Daniel is…" With a furious expression, the cruel man stormed out of the chamber.
The room was silent. Amara was feeling overwhelmed and confined to her room when she heard the clock in her room ticking away. As if that wasn't enough, there was also a click on the door.
It didn't take Amara long to realize that the king had actually locked her up here.
That was it.This marked her demise.  Amara guaranteed herself that she is a prisoner for a bloodthirsty lunatic monarch seeking for her goddamed husband, who has been missing ever since Amara announced her pregnancy just over two months ago. She couldn't give herself false hope that Daniel would show up since she knew he wouldn't be returning this time. He couldn't care less about her.
Amara had taken a nap and was tired after the day's events as she sat on the luxurious bed.
She recoiled when the door opened once more, and she prayed to the higher force not to let it be the ruthless king.
As a middle-aged woman carrying a pile of cozy-looking clothes entered her room, she let herself in without knocking, which amara found amusing. She assumed that prisoners did not have privacy, and she was okay with that. Living in a room was preferable to living in the dungeon; the memory of being there made her shiver. Goosebumps appeared on her skin.
Before Amara could say "thank you," the maid turned to depart, keeping the clothing gently on a nearby chair. In the silent room, Amara's stomach gave a loud growl, causing her cheeks to flush with shame. As if this wasn't embarrassing enough, the maid whispered to herself, "shameless girl," before leaving.
Later that evening, she had some garlic bread and a simple soup for dinner in her room. She ate the meal as soon as it was within arm's reach, so she wasn't too upset about it. To her dismay, the supper was brought in by the same maid, who mocked her appearance and called her shameless. Amara was uncomfortable, as it was obvious that the maid's presence made her feel unwelcome and judged. However, Amara asked the scowling woman her name merely to lighten the situation.
"Maria". The woman grunted in response.
"Are you done eating?" Maria questioned Amara angrily before she could say her name. Amara sniffled at her tone, since her pregnancy was making her hormones tricky. Amara nodded and curled back up into a ball, perhaps in an attempt to go to sleep and possibly forget the nightmares she had experienced earlier in the day.

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