The door to Room 12 creaked open with a long, aching groan. A cold rush of air greeted me as I stepped in. My eyes scanned the room, expecting a dungeon in disguise. But it wasn't. It was… nice.
Too nice.
Cream-colored walls, a bed with clean sheets. A wooden desk with a lamp already turned on. There was even a soft rug underfoot and a faint smell of lavender in the air.
Still, my body couldn't relax. Comfort, here, came with a price. "Do you need anything else?" one of the guards asked, his voice suddenly less robotic.
"Yeah. My friend," I said, turning to face him. "Where is she?"
"She's in a different wing."
"I know that already," I snapped. "Is she okay? Can I talk to her? Please."
The guard shifted awkwardly. "I don't know, Miss. I'm just following orders."
"Figures," I muttered. "Tell Christopher… Prince Christopher, whatever...tell him I want to see her. Soon."
He nodded stiffly, then stepped out with the other guard, locking the door behind them. A quiet click echoed in my ears.
I walked to the bed and sat down slowly, half expecting the floor to cave in beneath me. My fingers curled into the fabric of my skirt, and for the first time since being taken, I felt the ache in my shoulders, my legs, my mind.
Where was Patricia now?
I stood and went to the window. It was narrow, barred not with iron, but something transparent. Reinforced glass? I couldn't tell. The view was limited. Trees, trimmed lawns, stone paths. But there were no guards and no people.
I pressed my palm against the glass. "Are you okay?" I whispered, not sure if I was asking about Patricia… or myself.
A knock startled me. I turned fast, my heart in my throat.
The door opened slowly, and a woman in a pale blue uniform entered. Her hair was tied back, and she carried a tray.
"Dinner," she said softly. "Prince's orders."
I looked at the tray: rice, roasted chicken, fruit, and a bottle of water.
"Thanks," I said, unsure if I should trust it.
She placed it on the table and turned to leave but paused at the door. "There's a call button by your bed. Use it if you need anything."
I nodded. "What about Patricia?"
She hesitated. "She's safe." Then she slipped out before I could ask more.
Safe. That didn't mean free.
I sat down and stared at the food. My stomach rumbled, but I didn't move. I couldn't help but remember the queen's voice, cold and final. "Take them away."
Was it really just hours ago?
My fingers shook as I lifted the bottle of water. I took one sip. Then another.
And then I heard a faint voice. I froze.
It came from the wall. The far one, opposite the bed. I stood, cautiously, and walked over. Pressed my ear against it.
"…C Block…"
"…hold off till morning…"
"…orders from the top…"
Then nothing.
I stepped back. The wall looked solid. But something someone was nearby. Maybe another room? Another prisoner? Patricia?
I backed away and returned to the bed, my mind racing. Sleep didn't come easy.
And when it did, it didn't stay.
The next morning, a knock startled me awake. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep. The door opened and a man entered.
"Up," a man's voice barked.
I groggily sat up. The door opened and a different guard stepped in. Not the one from last night. This one was taller. Less cold. But not kind either.
"Health check," he said. Right. I had asked for that. Still, part of me wished I hadn't.
I followed him down a quiet corridor. Every footstep echoed like it didn't belong. My throat was dry, my heart loud in my chest.
We stopped in front of a white door. It slid open. Inside was a sterile room bed, machines, screens. A woman in a white coat looked up and smiled faintly.
"Kimberly?"
I nodded.
"Come. Sit."
I obeyed and quickly sat down. As she checked my vitals, she asked me questions, and did whatever nurses were trained to do, I tried to ease the tension in my chest.
"Will I get the results today?" I asked.
"Tomorrow, most likely," she replied. "You seem healthy though. Are you... okay?"
I paused. "Define okay."
She offered a small smile. "You've been through a lot. It's okay not to be okay."
I liked her instantly.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "Do you know anything about Patricia?"
She hesitated. "Only that she's in Wing A. That's all I know. Sorry."
"Is she okay?"
"I... I assume so. They wouldn't hurt her. Not with the prince involved. I'm not the one checking on her."
So they are also checking Patricia. But She didn't ask for a check up. That didn't comfort me at all. It felt sketchy.
After a while she started asking me questions. That's when I realized that she wasn't just a doctor. I could feel it. Her questions weren't really medical.
"When was your last illness?"
"Any strange dreams lately?"
"Do you ever feel… connected? Like you know what Patricia is thinking before she says it?"
I blinked. "What?"
She smiled. "Just a routine cognitive empathy check. Nothing serious."
I didn't believe her. "You're not just checking my health," I said.
She paused, then looked up at me, the mask slipping slightly. "The prince needs answers. We all do. You're part of something we don't understand yet. Your match with him it wasn't supposed to happen."
"I didn't ask for it," I said quietly.
"I know." She stood, then handed me a folded note. "Read this when you get back to your room. Hide it well."
My hands trembled as I took it. Then, just as quickly, the door opened again.
"Escort her back," she said coolly to the guard, her tone snapping back into clinical professionalism.
As I walked back, my fingers burned to open the note. But I didn't dare. Not yet.
Not here.
Not while eyes and cameras might still be watching.