Page 23 of Splintered Shadow
Sarah sipped the bitter drink, waiting for the punchline.
A bag of dirt. A bucket of rocks.
The punchline never came. He said, “It is tea to help you sleep. Drink.”
His commanding tone was not to be ignored, and she was too tired to argue, so she downed the tea.
The tea acted quickly. She buried her face in her pillow, dismayed to find it soaked from drool but too sleepy to do anything about it.
When she woke, she had a burst of energy, but that soon faded, and she returned to bed. Her hunger never felt satisfied, no matter how generous the portions Vekele served. She felt hot and clammy. The air did not move, and Vekele only allowed the windows to open a crack.
Clothing arrived. Neatly folded, the fabric had a decadent feel and a light weight suitable for the warm days. The trousers were too long, and the blouse fit too snugly over her chest. The waistcoat had an outrageously stiff and elaborate collar that made her feel as if she were about to lure children into a gingerbread house for a snack. Considering the air of abandonment in the palace, Sarah wondered if the clothes were antique.
She spoke to no one except Vekele and the bird. When Vekele left to do whatever it was he did—polish his daggers, practice his sneer—the bird remained. The more time Sarah spent with the bird, the more she was convinced it wasn’t an ordinary bird. Well, alien bird.
It watched her, intelligence shining behind all four eyes.
Overall, her captivity was unnerving and boring. So, so boring.
Vekele carried in another tray.
“More slurry?” she asked, sitting at the table.
“You have not objected to the beverage.”
“I’m objecting to the name.”
“Andsmoothieis better? It is not smooth. The fruit has been pulverized into a fine texture,” he said.
“Which is smooth.”
“Which is a slurry.”
Sarah pressed her lips together to fight her smile. If he thought she enjoyed this, he’d stop talking to her. So far, Vekele carefully avoided disclosing any real information. Where was she? His house. What planet? His planet.
That was fine. She’d talk in circles with him, as long as she got to talk to another living person. Chattering at the giant bird was good, but that only got her so far. A die-hard introvert, Sarah was fine on her own.
That’s not true, she mentally corrected herself. In the last few years, pain made her retreat and hide like a wounded animal. She liked people, generally. Robert had been the quiet one, perfectly content to let Sarah drag him to backyard cookouts and hang with their friends.
This situation was different. She couldn’t hide and hope for the best. Too much was unknown here, and it weighed on her. She needed more than sitting alone in a decrepit palace bedroom with only a giant bird for company.
“Entertain me,” she said.
“I am a prince. I am not here to entertain you.”
“What about a game? Chess? Poker? Mario?” She mimed holding a game controller and wiggled imaginary toggles with her thumbs.
His foggy gray eyes blinked slowly, then his head tilted. “I do not play games.”
“I’m bored,” she said.
“That is not my concern.”
“You said you wouldn’t torture me.”
“I have not. I provide food, water, garments, and shelter.” His tone sounded genuinely offended.
“And socialization? Humans are social creatures,” she said. It was a long shot, but worth a try.
