Zenobia dragged out the ending of her story for two years. It took that long for her to trust the prince to kill her. During the first year, she simply gave him the knife with which to do it. In the meantime, Zenobia did languish, though not in the dungeon the prince set up for her. She daydreamed about that cold, dripping cell. It seemed preferable to the single stripe of shade she currently sat in against the warm sandstone wall.