"Hmm…"
Lilith's eyes fluttered open slowly. A sharp wince crossed her face as she raised her head, squinting against the light to make out the figure in front of her. The last sound she remembered was the crack of a whip against her back, then everything had gone warm, like drifting into sleep under pressure.
Now, seeing Zayd, a breath of relief slipped past her lips. Tears brimmed in her eyes, almost falling. If he had been a minute later, she would have broken. Margaret would have had her answer.
She had never been pushed this far, having to starve for days, her only sip of water offered stingily on the third day. If Zayd had arrived even seconds later, she knew Margaret would have ended her. She was wrong to call Zayd the Devil, Margaret was the real Devil.
"You… you are alive," she whispered, voice hoarse, the words barely rising from her throat.
