Star Storm

Chapter Eleven

Behind Closed Doors

Cracking an eye open, Nona checked her room was clear. The guards had locked the door moments ago. She was more than happy to clarify they had both stepped outside. Alone, she could finally attempt a shower in the private bathroom assigned to her. She could even sing while she washed her hair.

Her hair. Nona gagged at the thought of the mop atop her head. All these days wasted moving from one shuttle to the next until they reached this station. She had no idea where her kidnappers had taken her thanks to the lack of windows on their vessels. Anyone could be waiting beyond the bolted door from any nation. She did not want to consider meeting a single new face in her current state.

The floor was cool under her feet. She welcomed the cold and lingered on the tiles of her sleeping quarters, curling, and uncurling her toes. In Uterca, everything was forever warm thanks to the near sun.

Nona shook her head, strands of flat curls falling across her shoulders. She would not consider enjoying herself – not even a little. From what she had overheard of the guards' gossip of late, Telion had decided not to send any rescue party after her. No one was coming to save the princess. She would have to save herself. There was no time to enjoy things.

So, Nona marched to the shower, discarded her dress, hit the power control, and scrubbed her body viciously under the water. Her hosts had granted her a simple bottle of soap. Without proper supplies she could hardly sort her hair. Not that using their cheap soap would make things worse than they already were.

While she struggled to dry her hair with the coarse towel, a package was slipped through an opening in the door. Nona hesitated. She stayed at the far end of the room for a while, then when she was sure the box was not about to explode or attack her, she carried it to the low bed.

She flinched at the set of grey clothes inside. The jacket was thick leather and without any decorations, its pockets off-set and too big for her liking. Worse were the lose fitting pants with their even bigger pockets. The clothing made her insides writher.

But it was either wear her dirty dress or the clean uniform. After risking the shower, Nona did not plan on redressing in her grubby outfit. She groaned and complained as she tugged the high-necked shirt then the pants and jacket on, cursing her captors when she realised they had not given her any shoes.

Her delicate golden sandals did not match in the slightest. Nona left them on the floor with her dress and stormed to the door. Pain flared in her hand as she rasped her knuckles against the metal.

"Excuse me!" she called. "I need some proper footwear. You idiots clearly don't have any idea of how much a crime it would be to wear sandals with an overcoat."

She sunk back on her heels. No one answered. No one so much as knocked back and told her to be quiet.

Biting her lip, Nona sunk to her knees and stuck her hand through the opening the parcel had come through. A warm breeze hit her fingers as she twisted her wrist, trying to find something to grab hold of. Nothing. Not even a foot of a guard.

"Hello," she said.

The silence of the room returned as the last echo of her voice faded.

Nona's eyebrows raised. Had the masked men really left her own her own? There was only one way to find out – and she was sure she would not like where it would take her. Nowhere good was on the other side of heavily locked doors - unless it was in the Utercian Royal Bank Vaults.

But it was crawl through the door or wait around for her guards to come back. Considering they had just fed and clothed her, Nona doubted they would storm in with their weapons raised. Unless they planned to give her a public execution. For that she would have to look her best.