DUALITY /#Wattys 2021

Chapter 27

Ridley stumbled into her beautiful suite, Mirabella close at her heels. There's no escape now. The thought punched her in the stomach as she teetered into her sumptuous bedroom on shaky heels and sat on the bed. What punishments lay in store for her if she were ever caught?

She reached for the calming thoughts Reb had taught her. Things get hairy undercover sometimes. Hang onto it; tough it out. They don't expect anyone to smuggle anything out. You do the ritual, convince them the stuff worked, and you're in! Just play along and they'll let you walk right out.

Popish had told Ridley and Reb that all the Guildsmen he had interviewed reported feeling ill after their induction, falling comatose like the Queen, or sleeping for days. Most had remembered nausea and vomiting, as well, before they just couldn't stay awake any more. Ridley couldn't risk appearing too healthy.

Dr. Sarma had sent her along with a small pill that would make her vomit. She'd placed it in her bedside drawer. She opened it and palmed the pill, pretending to look for her brush and run it through her hair; then when Mirabella wasn't looking, she slipped it into her mouth.

 in about five minutes, her stomach felt queasy, and Ridley noticed a warning tickle at the back of her throat. She reached under her jacket across her body as if she were holding her stomach, felt for the tubing under her shirt, and pinched it tight between her thumb and forefinger. She tapped the valve in her mouth, making sure it was closed. 

Then she got up, rushed into the bathroom, and brought her breakfast up into the toilet bowl. Mirabella came in with a cold cloth for her forehead.

"Are you sick?" she said, and Ridley realized that if Mirabella hadn't expected her to be sick, she'd have sounded more alarmed. 

"Yeah," Ridley said. "I don't know, just nerves, I guess." 

Mirabella leaned over her and pressed the cold cloth to her forehead. "I can call a doctor to examine you and prescribe something for your stomach."

Ridley shook her head. The last thing she needed was some doctor taking her clothes off. "No, thanks, I think I feel a little better. Could you excuse me?" She glanced toward the toilet.

"Oh, of course," said Mirabella. She handed Ridley the cold cloth. Ridley took it and locked the door after Mirabella left. Alone, she unscrewed the precious collection pouch, full of amber liquid, from the tubing that protruded from her skin. 

She had planned ahead and hid the cap for the pouch. It fit a bottle of shampoo that sat on the edge of the tub, so it could hide in plain sight. Ridley had covered the mouth of the shampoo bottle with a bit of paper, to prevent any shampoo residue from contaminating the cap. She removed the paper and screwed the cap onto the pouch as tightly as she could.

Now, where to hide it? She had no luggage she could put it in, she didn't want to keep it on her person, and leaving it in the bathroom felt risky to her. She undressed, leaving her bra on, coiled the tubing up and hid it in her bra, and pulled on the nightgown she had left hanging behind the door. Making sure to flush the toilet, she went back to the bedroom and cuddled up in bed, hiding the pouch under the covers beside her.

Mirabella hovered over her. "Can I get you anything? I have a little fan I can put by the bed. Sometimes a little cooling breeze helps if you feel nauseated."

"Yes, that would be nice, thanks," said Ridley. As soon as Mirabella left, she jumped out of bed and felt under the bottom. The bed didn't have slats like her old one at home; it had drawers underneath. She would never be stupid enough to put the pouch in the drawers. She examined the neck of the pouch, shaking it and turning it upside down to be sure it wasn't leaking.

Ridley experimented and discovered that she could take the lowest drawer out. A space of about five centimeters existed between the bottom of the drawer and the floor. Ridley put the pouch there, closed the drawer, and jumped back into bed. A second later Mirabella came in with the fan, set it up, and aimed it at the head of the bed.

"How's this, Ridley? Is this better?"

"Yes, that's nice. Thank you. Can you leave me alone for a bit? I want to take a nap."

"Of course," said Mirabella. "I'll be back to check on you in a bit." She turned and crossed the room, and the door slid shut behind her. Ridley lay there, thinking of all the options she had now.

She was a Guildswoman, something every Confederation citizen dreamed about. She could turn on the King; she could have anything she wanted. Safety, skating, fun, a luxury apartment, the best schools for Sannah.

But she wouldn't. Devane was corrupt; she knew that. And besides, if she turncoated, she'd spend the rest of her life isolated. She could bring her family back here to live in luxury; but her mother would never forgive her. None of that would be worth hurting the King, she'd say, and she'd be right in ways she never knew. 

He'd been hurt enough. Come what may, Ridley would never betray his trust. And if he really could help all the workingtowns ... she wanted to stay on his side. All she needed to do was slide out of here and return to him.

So he could ignore her. So she could do her sworn duty, and he could go back to the Queen, and never, ever even know how she felt. Or care.

And she'd thought winning an Olympic silver medal had seemed surreal.

No way would she be able to lie here and fake sleep or a coma; she suspected she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, either. She'd be a wreck until she waltzed out of here clean, with the pouch safely hidden under her clothing. 

Her door opened with a click and Mirabella's slender silhouette cast a shadow across her bed. Ridley turned over.

Dr. Sharma had prescribed her a few pain pills after her surgery. The first one had made her too sleepy, so she hadn't taken the rest of them. Reb had advised her to bring them with her, even going so far as to have a special pair of boots made with a compartment that would hold several of them, in case she couldn't fake sleeping for two days. Now Ridley was glad. Her stomach tumbled, jittery and nervous. 

Relief claimed her and she got up and returned to the bathroom. She made gagging noises and flushed the toilet again. Then she fished Dr. Sarma's bottle of pain pills from where she had hidden it, took one, drank some water, and went back to bed. From all accounts, two days of illness after the induction ceremony was the norm. Fortunately, Ridley had enough pills.

Half an hour later the blissful blurring of the drug calmed her, and she fell asleep.

**If anyone does get this far, I could so use some comments and votes. Thanks!