Page 22 of Splintered Shadow
“Metaphorically speaking,” she added, a bit too late to be convincing.
“It is not a metaphor. You are wearing my robe and nothing else. I know. I undressed you and bathed you.”
Well, when he said it like that, it was unsexy and borderline creepy.
Time to redirect the conversation.
“How can I get rid of the chain?” Sarah lifted her foot and gave it a shake.
“When I have decided you are not a threat or useful,” he answered.
“I’m not a threat.”
“You are a disruption, at the very least.” His tone made her sound like the most dangerous woman in existence.
She needed to convince him she was as harmless as a bookstore clerk who had no social life and barely kept herself fed, because that’s exactly what she was.
“Well, thanks for the rescue and patching me up,” she said.
He scowled. Honest to goodness, hand over heart, he scowled like she hid a secret code in her words.
“Return to the bed,” he ordered, his tone brooking no questions. “You have not recovered. I will not have you undo the medic’s work.”
“Right. I wouldn’t want to be rude.”
He gathered up the dishes and left, scowling, with some glowering added in for variety.
Sarah flopped back onto the bed. First contact was a bust. In retrospect, she should have doled out bits of information to Vekele in exchange for having her questions answered. As it was, she skipped over her entire life story and he told her the bare minimum: his name, his title, that she had a parasite that probably wouldn’t kill her, and the name of the planet.
Oh, and he wouldn’t poison a guest because he had manners.
Good job, Sarah. Minus one adventure point.
Minutes ticked by, but the corridor outside the room remained silent. Vekele wasn’t coming back with another smoothie.
She did learn one thing he tried to keep from her.
The prince was blind.
Chapter Six
Sarah
A day passed.Then another. Sarah found it hard to keep track of the days. Sometimes nightmares tore her from her sleep, vicious dreams about losing her family and running. So much running.
She woke, panting and in a cold sweat. The dreams were so real.
“You are safe.” Vekele sat at the foot of the bed. Moonlight picked silver highlights in his dark hair. His gray complexion had an ethereal glow. It was unfair how pretty he looked when Sarah had a serious case of bedhead going on.
“Drink this,” he said, pressing a glass into her hands.
It was warm and smelled medicinal, like spearmint or ginger, with a generous dose of disinfectant. She took a cautious sip, finding the beverage bitter. “Is it poison?”
He frowned. “No. We discussed this.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s impolite to poison your hostages.”
“Captive is more accurate. Hostage implies you will be traded for someone or something of equal value.”
