The little flicker of courage that had bloomed in Tilda's stomach sputtered for a moment when she heard her door open, and died altogether when she saw the rod in Raqiza's hand. Surely she had not been so insolent as to deserve such a punishment? It was all she could do not to run from the room as the Lady came closer, studying her face. Tilda studied Raqiza's as well, pensively.<br/><br/>Not for a moment had she expected that her punishment would be to have her hair brushes. It was true, the red kinks were wild and unruly but they always had been. As Raqiza worked her hair, she was transported almost ten years back-when she would often sit at Lady's feet and read from the smaller picture books while she had her hair plaited in intricate designs. As a child, it was easy to believe that one day she might be the fair maiden in the story who was rescued by the dashing knight. Alas, Tilda hadn't been a child for a very long time.<br/><br/><br/>As Raqiza pulled her hair, Tilda swallowed a hard lump in her throat, meeting Raqiza eye to eye. The woman was beautiful, and always had been-it was sad that she was such a cold person. But Tilda didn't let that pity touch her expression. Instead she gulped again and did her best to look properly chastened. Not that it was hard, she was terrified that at any moment the rod on her dresser could become a weapon used against her..<br/><br/>"I...I have no intentions..." Tilda's words died in her throat. It would be pointless to reiterate what they both already knew. That she was nothing, because she had come from nothing. What Raqiza failed to know, because she could not know it-was that Tilda would not spend the rest of her days as nothing. "I am sorry, my Lady. I did not mean to offend you." It tasted bitter to apologize when she did not feel sorry.