Willow stayed crouched, ear to the door. Waiting.
She had woken that morning, still hazy from the pain potion, angry at herself for letting her captor her to her. She began to search the room inch by inch for a way out. There was none. The skylights in the ceiling were hopelessly far up, even with her powers. The furniture was immovable, and the door was locked with an enchantment. Magnus knew her too well. It pissed her off.
With nothing better to do, Willow began rifling through the dresser drawers. They were stocked with clothing exactly to her taste, simple and easy to move in. Even the colors were to her preference. Somehow, the fact that Magnus knew her clothing style pissed her off even more than the fact he knew how to keep her contained.
Head still buzzing, she grumbled as she ate the remaining scraps of last night’s dinner. The servant who had slid the meal under the door must not have known who she was, because her silverware had included a steak knife. Idiot. Willow pocketed it. Then she knelt by the door to wait.