Shatter Like Glass-Cinderella Retold

Part Eighteen

A small part of Ashen's mind fought the spell, and it was that part that knew that they had taken her prisoner. Faces flooded together and her limbs were too weak to fight. She wanted to fight though. Vaguely, she felt her head move towards the hand holding her up. Her ears heard a crunching sound and a salty tasting something filled her mouth. Salt water? No. She should still be in Carmine. Their water would be burning her mouth and throat.

It's blood, she realized. She had bit the guard's finger. She had a moment of delight before her head hit the deck. Pain shot through her body. Her feet were higher than her head. A guard was still holding them. He was dragging her across the deck.

She heard someone howling in pain and thought it might be her. Then she realized she would surely know if she was screaming. It had to be the guard she bit.

She felt sorry.

Just a little bit.

That was when her mind went completely numb, then was wide awake. She sat up quickly, expecting to start kicking the man holding her. Instead, she was in a bed. A glance around told her she was below deck on a ship, the lack of windows and sunlight told her that much. Hers? No, the Jolly Roger was too small.

The Azures.

They captured her and her crew.

The memory came back to her gradually. She held her head in her hands. After seventeen years of hiding and being careful, the Azurians had them.

She was going to ruin Inara.

First, she had to make sure George was alive.

She did a quick analysis of her situation. She was alone, as far as she could tell. The room had wooden furniture painted blue. The bed she had been resting so comfortably on was a small one, much like the one back on her ship. It did not slip her notice that the quilt on the bed had an Azurian crest stitched onto it.

Books were stacked upon the night table. She could read their titles if she were so inclined, but her loathing of reading extended even to the point of neglecting them as information. She doubted they would aid her in any sort of escape or fight, so she ignored them.

Deciding she wasn't in immediate danger, she began looking for injuries. There were two bruises on her arm and a cut near her wrist. Other than that, she seemed—and felt—fine. A quick check beneath her shirt and chest plate told her those weren't harmed either.

Her condition, and the niceness of her cabin, confirmed her suspicions. Nikolai still believed she was his daughter. If he had known the truth, he wouldn't have pursued them at all. Or, if Alena had insisted, he would have had Ashen killed and George framed for it. Unfortunately, though her mother's deception had saved her life, it also meant Nikolai would keep her on a tight leash. Escaping would be extremely difficult.

Difficult, but not impossible. Once she found her father and Smiegal, she could start plotting.

She checked her sheath and was surprised to find they hadn't taken her blade. All the better. Odds were she'd have to fight to get to George. Nikolai certainly wouldn't give her permission. The guards likely wouldn't either; nor would her aunt. She couldn't count on anyone helping her.

Ashen drew her sword and approached the door slowly. Her stepfather would have locked her in, or stationed guards outside. Likely both. Holding her breath, she turned the knob. The door opened immediately.

Guards then. Lots of guards.

She almost couldn't believe it when she stepped into the hall. There was only one soldier in sight. He was tall, but lean. Relatively young, not much older than she was. There was nothing striking or intimidating about him; except, that is, for a long thin scar on his cheek. It was almost more of a scratch than a slash. He couldn't be very battle worn. Definitely not threatening. If it came down to a fight, she could take him.