The soldier named Amden lowers his weapon and kneels beside me. He wraps his arm about my waist and hauls me to my feet. My knees buckle and he grunts as I nearly spill both of us to the ground. He hoists me into his arms, carrying me like a small child.
“What are you going to do with me?” I ask, my head resting upon the soldier’s chest. His arms are long and lean, clothed in fine muscle, easily able to hold my weight.
“I’m going to collect my reward when I present you to my king.”
The smug look on his face makes me wish I could summon enough energy to yank down the roof and kill us all. “I’m sure he won’t be quite so pleased when he hears how you have treated me.”
A knowing smile spreads along his sallow face. “You have nothing to fear. I know my place. No one shall lay a finger on you. You are safe… for now.”
A deep sense of loathing seeps into my soul as Amden carries me past. “Wait,” I say and he pauses, undecided. He turns to look back at Drakon, and I get my chance. “I will have you killed for this once I am queen.”
I feel a thrill of triumph as Drakon’s haughty smile falters as I am carried through the door.
The room is spinning. Not a gentle spin, but a horrendous, vomit-inducing spin. I clutch my head and pray for an end that comes slowly. The air smells odd, almost as if the room has been doused with smoke and pine. A deafening hum stabs at my eardrums, making me clutch my ears to try to block out the sound. A ticking, rhythmic and constant, makes me clench my eyes shut as it hammers into my head.
“What is that awful noise?” I groan and roll to my side.
Blinking several times to clear my vision, I see a tall wooden box standing before me. It has a glass front, a small square at the top, and a longer piece at the bottom. A pendulum swings to and fro in exact time with the ticking.
Pushing myself up from the bed, I realize this is the source of my pain. I stare up at the box, looking at the numbers fashioned in a circle. “It’s a clock,” I whisper, lowering my hands. I’ve never seen one of these that actually still works.
I turn to survey my surroundings. The overhead lights are dim, allowing my eyes to adjust with minimal pain. Spreading out my hands, I realize the bed I’m lying on is unusually firm, almost as if the thin layer of mattress has been laid over a slab of rock.
The air is cool against my skin. Panic seizes me as I realize I’ve been undressed. I cinch the bed sheet about my neck and peer into the corners of the room, searching for a guard, but see none.
The walls are curved near the ceiling, off-white and shiny, as if glossed. There are no windows in the room. The only light comes from a circular lamp that hangs above my head and small lamps scattered about the perimeter of the room.
There are no decorations to speak off. No pictures or mementos. The room is barren of all evidence of life.
I shiver, wishing I had more than a sheet to cover up with. Leaning to the side, I try to see if my clothes have been left by the bed, but they are gone. “Figures,” I mutter as I rise, wrapping the sheet twice around me and tucking it in at the top to hold.
The floor is soft and warm against the pads of my feet. The sheet whispers across the plush carpet behind me as I walk toward a darkened room to my left. As I lean to peer inside, a brilliant light flares to life, startling me. Before me, I see a small yet efficient bathroom.
Dread sinks into my stomach as I press my hand to the wall, feeling the source of the hum ripple up through my hand. An engine. I’m on the ship and it has already left Earth.
I lean against the wall and press my palms against my eyes, fighting to shove down my fear. Where is Bastien? Is he still alive?
Pushing back my shoulders, I march back into the room, determined to find some clothes and then him. I’ll tear this ship apart if I have to.
I press a small, nearly concealed button on the wall, and a closet door slides open. My lips press into a thin line at the sight of men’s uniforms, neatly pressed and hanging in a row. All of them bear the red phoenix emblem over the chest, but they also bear the insignia that belongs to only one person: Commander Drakon.
I’m in his room.
Darting a glance around, I narrow my gaze on the walls, hunting for a secret compartment. If there is one thing I learned during our last encounter, it’s that he likes to keep weapons close at hand. Hugging the wall, I trail my fingers over it in search of a seam.
I whip around and drop into a crouch when the door on the far wall hisses open. A young girl enters, carrying a washing basin and an armful of towels and linens. She seems startled by my defensive stance but offers me a wide smile and passes by. She moves into the bathroom and sets down the basin. I can see steam rising from the water.