Elena woke up with a headache and a dry mouth, feeling slightly as though she was hungover. She'd only been drunk once, when Geoff and Mathew threw a huge party and invited the whole gang, as well as a bunch of other people she'd never met. They'd given her a drink, not telling her it was the strongest alcohol legally available, and she'd passed out pretty quickly. Waking up the next morning had not been fun.
She must have been drugged, she decided, looking at the room. She definitely didn't remember being brought here and, although light from the tunnels could easily be deceptive, it looked as though it could possibly be daylight outside the small barred window. Of course, he could have had indoor lighting strips, but there was little point turning them on at night when nobody was around.
Strangely enough, Elena didn't panic. She didn't see much point. Instead, she stood up and began to examine the room. If she was a prisoner, she'd have to start thinking about a way to get out.
There was no iron bedstead such as she'd seen in pictures, just a wide shelf attached to one wall by chains that seemed to be where she was expected to sleep, not that they'd bothered to put her on it when she arrived, since she'd woken up on the floor. There was no covering except a thin blanket, folded at one end, and no pillow at all. If it was warm enough she'd have to use the blanket to rest her head.
The floor was completely bare, made of concrete, with no rug to keep her feet vaguely warm. In one corner was a pail and Elena felt a little sick when she realised that that was all she'd get in the way of a toilet. The only other object in the room was a high-backed wooden chair.
She walked over to the wall and brushed a finger against it. Something white came off on her hands - the room had been freshly whitewashed. So they must have been expecting an attack of some sort, to have a cell so newly prepared. Somehow this didn't make her feel any better.
At that moment the door opened, though she heard nothing. It was an electronic lock, like many of the more high-security rooms nowadays, and so opened soundlessly. The hinges, which had been well-oiled, didn't even squeak. A man entered, and she could see from his drab brown clothes that he was a servant. "You're awake, then."
"Yes," she replied. It seemed best to be polite. "Do I get fed here, or are you going to wait for me to starve to death?"
There was another servant with him, a younger man, who was holding a tray. At a click of his companion's fingers he came forward and put the tray on the ground. It looked like she would be fed, at least. Elena hungrily wolfed down the bread and water, expecting the servants to leave her alone while she ate, but they did nothing. When she finished they picked up the tray and she suddenly realised that, had the food been drugged, she would have no way of avoiding eating it, not if they stayed to watch her every time.
Alone again, she lay back on the wooden shelf and wondered what she could do to stop herself from going out of her mind. There was no sign of any drugs - even after around an hour, she still had full control of her mind. But she was bored witless, and that was when she started to think.
Remember your dancing. That's what Geoff had said to her, and suddenly the idea came to her. She looked at the chair. It would do, wouldn't it? Remember your dancing.