Although the tower was in the old section of the citadel, it proved to have some modern advances.
A gearman approached the curved stone wall and pressed a small digital key to the stone. With a sharp click, the stone retracted into itself, revealing a doorway. Thalia approached and looked into the small bathroom in surprise.
The room was obviously newer than most of the tower. The walls, floor and ceiling were the same bright sterile white that much of the main citadel had been. Inside there was nothing but a silver sink, toilet, shower stall and one small mirror hanging on the wall. The small room seemed to be an afterthought. It seemed too clinical and cold to belong in the tower. As much as she did not want to like anything Xieol gave her— especially her prison— Thalia had to admit that she preferred the stone and wood of the tower to the smooth white walls of the rest of the citadel.
As soon as Thalia stepped into the bathroom, the door slid closed behind her. She glanced back at it and noticed that on this side, the door was the same smooth white as the rest of the room. Thalia felt like she had stepped back onto a spaceship. It was not a welcome feeling.
Thalia stepped over to the sink and glanced into the mirror. More bruises were rising across her body. Angry, she turned the water on as hot as it would go and scrubbed at her skin. She scratched at her cheeks, trying to feel anything but the ghost of Xieol's lips and tentacles. The water in the sink slowly turned red.
Thalia ripped her hands away from her face and was shocked to see blood coating her fingernails. She glanced up briefly and saw the damage she had done to her face. Her lip twitched up slightly as she surveyed the harm she had done.
Her fingernails had gouged into her cheeks. Drops of blood slid down from a few of the deeper wounds. With a wet hand, Thalia smeared the blood across her cheeks. The rising bruises were obscured almost completely. Thalia was surprised when her teeth flashed white in the mirror. She wiped her bloody hands on the white fabric of her nightgown and admired how the thick liquid stained it.
After scrubbing her hands clean, she cupped them under the tap and brought the cool water to her mouth. She shuddered as she swished the liquid around, remembering the foul taste of his mouth. The way his tongue had moved against hers, slithering like a serpent. Thalia spat into the sink as she gagged on the memory.
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and took a few calming breaths, forcing down a sudden wave of nausea. Digging at herself was not going to help. Neither was crying or throwing up. Not that there was much in her stomach anyway. If she was going to have to face him again, she needed to get a grip.
Thalia stripped off her nightgown and left it balled up on the floor. She turned on the water in the shower stall and stepped into the frigid spray without giving it time to warm. She shuddered and bit her lip against the cold, but forced herself to endure it. The cold had a numbing effect. It felt almost good against her bruised body, although it stung the new scratches on her face. She felt detached as she watched the water flow down her legs and circle the drain. It was tinted red.
Once the water had run clear again, and was starting to warm, Thalia shut it off. She glanced back out into the bathroom, unsure. There were no cabinets or other obvious place towels could be stored. She stood in the shower stall a second longer, considering her options. Her nightgown was still balled up on the floor, but suddenly the bloodied garment seemed very unappealing.
A faint hum sounded. Suddenly small puffs of warm air came from all sides of the shower stall, sending gooseflesh racing down her arms. She crossed her arms across her chest self-consciously, and eyed the walls of the shower. There was no obvious place that the air was coming from. It seemed to simply appear out of the shower walls. Some high-tech convenience for the princess. Thalia snorted.
As soon as she was dry, Thalia left the stall and padded over to where the entrance to the bathroom should have been. To her it looked like just another expanse of solid white wall. Experimentally, she tapped at it. To her shock, the wall slid into itself with a snap and she was looking out into the bedroom again. A door had never operated for her before.
On the Quarantine Ship, the doors had opened and closed either of their own accord or at the gearmen's behest. Thalia had never thought to try any of the doors in the citadel. A small feeling of power flitted through her. This was a small thing, but it was something that she had control over. There wasn't much she had command of.
Two gearmen, Assistants the Prince had called them, were waiting for her in the bedroom. The body of the electrocuted gearman was gone without a trace. One of the mechanical assistants stepped forward and began wrapping her in another complicated white garment. The other looked at her for a second, then approached and began treating the scratches on her face with a stinky balm. Apparently, they had been aware of her activities in the bathroom. Yet, they had not intervened. Interesting.
"How did you know I was injured?" She asked, curious, as the gearman finished dressing her and stepped back. The other gearman—assistant—began placing small bandages over the deeper gouges on her cheeks.
"We monitor you, Your Highness." The assistant answered as he moved on from her face and started massaging the same cream into some of her darker bruises. Thalia winced.
"You watch me in case I, what, try to escape?" She smiled sadly, "Even I know that isn't an option."
"Others have tried," The gearman responded cheerily, "But, no, we monitor you in order to learn from your behaviors. This way we can be better prepared to assist you in the future. Anticipate your wants and your needs, Your Highness."
"Speaking of which," The other gearman had returned. He grasped her hand and held her palm up towards the light, examining it. Thalia knew he was looking at the small red half-circles her fingernails had left in her palms. "We should consider taking preventive measures here."
Both gearmen had ahold of one of her hands now. They turned them about thoughtfully as they spoke.
"The fingernails may be removed to prevent further injury," The first mused, "Or perhaps sanded back so as not to pose a threat?"
