She knelt there under the table, trying not to sob so loud as to be heard  until eventually she managed to get a hold of herself. Once again she found herself under the table, awaiting whatever horror would happen next. The conversation was absorbed and filed away even as her stomach groaned. She could not tell whether it was from the smell of the delicious food that wafted down from the table above or from the want to be ill after having to service the bastard Stayan. Still she sat and listened, her mind sorting through the information she was hearing. Most people assumed that as a noble woman she had no mind beyond marriage and needlepoint but her father, for all of his faults, had taught his daughter well to use that to allow herself to overhear information that might be pertinent for him to know.<br/><br/><i>Not that this information is going to get me anywhere now </i>She thought to herself, somewhat bitterly. Zoey listened to the discussion of the contract and something seemed odd, something she could not quite place. She heard papers being shuffled and the scribble of a pen. The pieces fell into place when she heard the chair scrape back. She knew what was about to happen and she had the sinking feeling that she knew what the murder weapon would be. A mere moment later her Master toasted Mathias... and not Lord Stayan.  She cringed when the command she dreaded was issued. As instructed she slipped out from under the table and rose to her feet not far from the fat drunkard. Her hair was a mess from where he had gripped her while brutally using her. Her lips were bruised and her head throbbed. She tried to focus on how much she loathed this man as her hand reached for the carving knife that sat on the table.<br/><br/>As she watched the fat perverted pig of a man stare at her with terror on his face her resolve faltered. The knife clattered to the floor and she turned to Quentin with tears streaming down her cheeks. There were many things that he would no doubt force her to do but this she could not. She was sure that her life was forfeit and all for this worthless, disgusting man but she just could not take a life, even his.<span style="color: indigo">"Please Master, I cannot do this. You cannot seriously expect this of me. Please, mercy Sir, please I beg you."</span>She shook uncontrollably, feeling that urge to be ill welling up again inside of her. Images of all the horrible, painful and slow ways that Quentin would no doubt make her suffer before she finally was allowed to die went through her head and she felt like she might faint. She wobbled on her feet and gripped the edge of the table to stop herself from falling while staring at her owner with a terror that matched Stayan's .<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>