Lunch consisted of a roast beef sandwich, a steaming cup of French onion soup, and a glass of iced tea. All of the dishes and the tray itself were made out of either flimsy plastech or sturdy paper. I would not be turning any of it into a shiv.
I pushed the tray away but stayed seated at the table. I wanted to see if the soldier would return while I remained within reach. I sat statue-still while I waited. It was a skill my deportment tutor had despaired of me ever learning, but eventually I’d fallen in line. And I had to agree, it was a useful skill—it never failed to unnerve the other people in the room.
It was also the perfect way to disguise plotting. Or thinking.
My mind drifted to Loch. I missed him. He and Rhys were hopefully already negotiating with Father. I might never see him again. My heart twisted and realization struck—I cared for him, but I had let fear rule me.
The admission hurt because it revealed flaws I preferred not to think about. My first relationship had scarred me deeply, but I was no longer the girl I had been. While I still wanted love and affection, I was experienced enough to spot manipulation; I just had to trust in myself.
And everything in me said Loch hadn’t been interested because of my name.
If I escaped, when I escaped, I would find him. We might not work out, but it wasn’t going to be because I was a coward.
The door clicked then slid open, interrupting my thoughts. I kept my expression serene as the guard in the hall stepped into the doorway, a blaster held loosely at her side. The other guard retrieved the tray then backed out of the room. I raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t move.
So they would retrieve the tray with me close, but only with backup. Armed backup. There might be a way to turn it into an advantage if I looked hard enough.
I glanced around my cell. The worst part of being a political prisoner was the crashing boredom. It was part of the process, of course. Because when Richard finally offered me entertainment, I would be grateful. A few more tiny interactions along those lines and I would think that perhaps he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. The pull was so strong that even awareness, training, and vigilance weren’t always enough to overcome it.
But being a political prisoner still beat the hell out of being in the general cells. I wouldn’t be eating waffles and iced tea down there. I’d be lucky to be eating at all.
I sighed internally, careful to keep my outward appearance calm. They would be waiting for signs of weakness. They would have to keep waiting.
With nothing better to do, I lay down on the cot. I wasn’t sleepy, but it was more comfortable than the honeycomb chairs. It was also easier to feign sleep while continuing to think.
Richard did not return for the rest of the day. I told time based on the meals they brought but I had no way to know if the timing was correct. They could be bringing me food every two hours for all I knew.
I slept surprisingly well. The cot wasn’t the most comfortable bed I’d ever had, but it was far from the worst. Overall, I was bored and frustrated by my lack of a solid escape plan, but well-rested and healthy.
I was sitting at the table when Richard arrived with breakfast.
“Good morning, Ada,” he said, “I trust you are well this morning.” He set the tray with two plates of food on the table. He also had a tablet tucked under his arm. He slid it under the tray.
“Good morning, Richard,” I said. I summoned a smile. “I am well, thank you for asking. Yourself?”
“I am quite well,” he said. “I decided to dine with you this morning. I hope you do not mind.”
“It is your ship,” I said drily.
His grin was sly. He had something up his sleeve. But all he said was, “So it is. Let’s eat.”
The breakfast soufflé was excellent. He had either a high-end food synthesizer or a fabulous personal chef. The fruit salad was equally delicious. My life might be misery if I married him, but at least the food would be good.
When we were finished, he waved a hand and the door opened. Yet another new soldier removed our dishes. With a complement