Page 70 of Scars & Starlight
“Did you test her?” I ask my intelligence officer, remembering the conversation with Caden during a much happier moment.
Orien shrugs, though the somewhat frustrated look in his eyes belies the casual act.
“She doesn’t want to be tested,” he says simply.
I hum in return, then leave them to it, heading in the direction of the crown’s seat, Tara’s little mech hot on my heels.
35
TARA
My nanites tell me it’s been five days since I last saw Kairen. Five days and nights of staring at the walls or bars of my prisons, not knowing if I ever will see my prince again. On the third day, we landed on a planet the nanites told me was Tyren, one mostly lost to the war with the Ghorvek invaders. I was moved from my cell on the ship to one in a building on the planet. Interestingly enough, it seemed like it was done during the cover of the night, with next to no witnesses. That tells me the general is afraid of his own crew’s opinion on my abduction.
Everything is easier to bear now that my baby is well again. After my scare, the nanites stopped the bleeding and fortified the sprout, making sure it’s healthy. Since the general hasn’t been letting me clean myself up, I asked the little robots to do whatever they can. They dissolved the blood and grime on me, but a faint residue is still left behind, making me just a bit uncomfortable. Thankfully, I got used to not having access to water to clean myself with regularly during those first few months after the invasion. Guess I should consider myself lucky they threw in a portable toilet. Likely to avoid having the bad smells when they come to gloat. I hate their villainmonologues, but someone shows up without fail every day. Either the general or his shrew of a daughter.
It's Zeriah who pokes her head in next, wrinkling her nose at the state of me. Yeah, my clothes are wrinkled and stained, and my hair hasn’t been brushed in days. It came loose from the braids it was in until it was half up, half hanging down, so I just let it go. I spend a lot of time sleeping, and they’ve been giving me the bare minimum of food and liquid to survive: just a nutrient shake a day. My stomach growls loudly at the thought of food. I’d commit heinous crimes for pancakes right now.
“You look dreadful,” the general’s daughter says in a nasal whine.
“You know what would help?” I ask in an upbeat tone. “Letting me the fuck out of here.”
Zeriah frowns. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”
I pull my knees up and lean my elbows on them. Even though I’m on the ground and she’s looming above me, I still stare her down. “No, IknowI’m funny.” I wave an idle hand. “There’s a difference.”
“You’re in no position to be glib,” she sneers. She looks a bit confused, though. Probably expected me to be a crying, sniveling mess. But as tempting as that might be, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break down.
Unlike me, Zeriah looks radiant in a white dress that reminds me of the Grecian style, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun. She’s still looking at me like I’m something she stepped on with her shiny golden slippers.
“I’m just exercising whatever rights you people have left me with,” I mutter. Leaning my head against the wall, I close my eyes, suddenly so tired. It’s felt like Groundhog Day ever since they took me, and I can’t escape this repeating nightmare. I don’t even bother to talk to Korvann anymore. Every time it’s his turn to gaze at the zoo animal they’ve captured, I pretend I’m too weak to talk and feign sleep. I don’t want to set him off again. The next time he draws his weapon, my sprout and I might not make it.
“Have you contacted the queen with your demands yet?” I askthe statuesque Avaren. For some reason, the female blushes, the tips of her revealed ears turning pink. What’s that about?
“That’s none of your business,” she replies breezily.
“Then why are you here, Zeriah?” Exasperation shines through my voice. Or is it profound exhaustion from the constant state of fear?
“Just being a gracious host and checking in,” she replies, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.
I don’t think you’ve been gracious a day in your life, I think to myself, but keep my mouth shut. I don’t see a weapon on her, but that’s no clear indicator with Avaren and their nanites. I feign a yawn and use the tactics I normally reserve for her father on her.
“I’m actually really tired,” I mumble. I almost add that it’s probably the pregnancy taking it out of me, but I don’t necessarily want to remind her of it. You know, in case she missed the stains from the near miscarriage her father caused. When she just stares at me, I lie down, turning my back. It’s not long until a frustrated exhale is followed by the sounds of her retreating steps.
Alone again, I roll over. This cot on the ground is hardly better than the cold floor, and my whole body aches from just lying around for days.
Have you thought of a way to escape?
I can’t stick around waiting for a rescue when every moment could be my last, depending on the general’s moods.
POSSIBLE ACTION: OVERHEAT CELL SECURITY PROMPTING A SAFETY RESET.
Huh. That’s one of the better ideas we’ve had. But what happens once the door is open?
Are there eyes on the cell door? Who would get the alert?
TYPICAL PROTOCOL CALLS FOR A TWO-PERSON MONITORING TEAM AT ALL TIMES.
Can I take down two people with my nano suit’s pew-pew hands?
