Page 17 of Splintered Shadow
“Water? And maybe some clothes.”
With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair toward a side table and poured water from a pitcher with a surprising amount of attitude from a man who hadn’t spoken a word to her.
He set it down on the bedside table, tossed a navy-blue robe onto the bed, then left without a word. The bird stayed behind, watching.
Creepy, but sure. Roll with it.
“I don’t suppose you talk,” she said, her voice dry and rasping.
No response, but the bird’s eyes had an intelligent gleam—all four of them—like it was taking the measure of her worth.
Wow. Dramatic much?Sarah apparently fell through a portal into a melodrama.
At least her sense of sarcasm still worked.
She pushed herself into an upright position. Her back ached. Her shoulders burned. Her head spun. Everything hurt, like she fell through a ceiling and then into the jaws of a shadowy beast with way too many teeth.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, she stretched and flexed her feet. Her leg was… okay. A film wrapped around her calf, transparent and glossy. Through the film, her skin appeared red, but not nearly as bad as Sarah would have expected, considering the monster had its jaws solidly around her leg.
Moving stiffly, she bent over and poked the damaged area.
Sarah hissed. Okay, not her brightest idea. While still tender to the touch, the area looked mostly healed. Bruising on her calf was a mottled green, definitely not what it should look like the day after.
More like two weeks after.
She needed a mirror, but didn’t see one immediately. She twisted in place to get a better look at herself, muscles burning in protest. Angry green bruising blossomed across her hip.
Strange. It should have been purple and blue at this stage. How long had she been asleep?
She slipped on the robe and gulped down the water. The robe felt divine, soft, and silky. Gold embroidery decorated the collar and cuffs.
Minutes ticked by. The bird tucked its head down, resting.
The room was very nice in that way that shouted that it was very expensive, but it was also faded and dusty. Once, this room had been the epitome of grandeur, splashing money and tons of it, but the glory days were behind it.
She noticed the silence, the absolute stillness in the room. There were no noises from outside the window, no clatter of traffic, or murmured voices from the hall. This place felt isolated, possibly forgotten.
The layer of dust certainly added to the forgotten vibe. A place this huge—assuming all the rooms were this size—needed a large staff for maintenance.
Unless Mr. Grumpy did all the housework himself.
Sarah looked around the room and got in the impression that he did not.
She took in the ornate wood panels, the gilded everything, crystal for the sake of crystal, and the mural on the ceiling. Silken draperies hung from floor to ceiling, blocking the natural light, but the genuine crystal chandelier provided enough light. If she had been in a futuristic room before, now she had somehow fallen back to Marie Antoinette’s Versailles, only dustier.
Electric lights glowed in the crystal above. A soft whirring noise of moving air betrayed a ventilation system.
So not the eighteenth century. Wherever she was, they just happened to share the aesthetic of executed monarchs.
Sarah tested the chain. Despite being as thin as a delicate necklace, it proved durable. Her stomach growled and her bladder ached.
Yeah, that was a thing that she couldn’t ignore. Looking around the room, she spotted a door sitting ajar. That might not have been a bathroom, but she needed to check it out.
She pushed herself to her feet, dismayed to find her legs had been replaced with noodles. Clutching the bed frame for support, she hobbled to a nearby chair. The chain expanded, allowing her to move. Navigating her way along the room via furniture, she made her way to the mystery door.
It was a simple bathroom with the necessary plumbing. With that done, she washed up and hobbled back out into the bedroom.
The chain stretched as far as the window. She pulled back moldering drapes, dust heavy in the air. Years of grime clouded the windows, creating a layer of fog-like distortion over the landscape.
