When Mirabel awoke, the first thing she noticed was the lack of bouncing movement. The second thing was the pounding in her head. With an unvoiced groan, she sat up, holding her head. Where was she?

It was immediately obvious she was no longer in the cart. But she couldn’t remember how she had gotten to this room. The last thing she did remember was struggling as she was lifted from the cart. Based on the shooting pain in her head, however, she could guess what had happened next.

The room she now found herself in seemed to be a guest room. It was large, but not as large as her own room back home. The comparison hit her with a wave of homesickness. How long had it been since that night in the garden? She had lost count of the days. Had it been a week? A fortnight? Surely no more than that.

Another pain shot through her skull, drawing her from her thoughts and back to her present situation. It didn’t matter how long it had been, she reminded herself. What mattered now was figuring out where she was. And then she was getting out. How she was going to escape, though, was a different story. She would have to cross that bridge when she got to it.

Mirabel pushed herself off the fourposter bed reluctantly. It was a comfortable bed, and all she really wanted to do was lie down and take a nap. A nap not caused by a blow to the head, she thought as another pain stabbed through her brain. Sleep would have to wait, though. She had other things to do first.

Despite not allowing herself sleep, the bed did help her. It confirmed her suspicions that her host was wealthy. The bed was fairly lavish, the mattress plush and covered with pillows. The bedding was rumpled where she had lain, but even so it didn’t seem to have been in use until she had arrived. This left no doubt that she was in a guest room.

But just how wealthy was her captor? Small-time noble, or nigh-on royalty? A cursory glance around the rest of the room answered her. The room was larger than she had originally thought, and the furnishings clearly displayed comfort and wealth. Soft rugs covered the cold floor, and a beautifully carved wardrobe stood against one wall. On the wall opposite the wardrobe there was a large empty fireplace. The sight of it made her realize how cold she was.

Huddling further into the cloak Adelaide had lent her, she stepped towards the fireplace. Perhaps there was some kindling or some other way to light it. She wasn't really a fire expert, though, and she soon gave up when it was made clear that there was no wood.

She looked around again. Her eyes fell on the warm bed just a few feet away, and she was tempted to climb back in and cover up. But she didn’t. Instead, she went over and stole one of the covers off, wrapping it around herself. There was no way she was going to allow herself to sleep until she had figured out where she was.

With the blanket trailing behind her, she made her way towards one of the two windows in the room. Heavy curtains blocked the view until she pulled them back, allowing in what light there was. It wasn’t as early in the day as she’d thought. What time was it when she’d been lifted from the cart? She’d thought maybe morning, but maybe it had been afternoon already. Outside, the light was already disappearing from the sky. No wonder she felt tired.

She couldn’t see much out the window. It seemed to face out towards the back, towards the forest. Trees were all she could see for the most part. Thin trees, short trees, shrubbery, the whole lot. It wasn’t a very inviting view.

The curtains fell closed as she slid her hands away. The window wasn’t going to help her right now. Trees were everywhere in Omsk, but she already knew she was in Omsk. She couldn’t tell where in the small country she was from that view.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around her, she began walking around the room. Surely there was something useful in here. Something that could tell her where she was, or at least something to help her get out. She would have tried to smash the window and climb out, but she wasn’t nearly strong enough. Not only that, but the sound itself was sure to draw more attention than she wanted. No, she would have to find some other way of escaping this one.

Her next stop was the wardrobe. She doubted there would be anything in there, considering it was an unused guest room, but it was worth a shot. Opening the doors, she peered in. It was roomy inside, large enough for someone to stand in. Maybe even two people. Not when there was clothes, maybe, but right now it was empty. Three or four of her could have fit inside the bare space. 

Sighing, she closed the doors again with a satisfying click. Where else could she look? Spotting the bedside table, she walked over to it and pulled the drawer open. Unfortunately, it was just as empty as the wardrobe had been. The servants here were good at keeping things clean, it seemed. Or maybe they just never had guests.

Her headache was getting worse, and she took a seat on one of the plush chairs. Despite her slight weight, she sank into the cushions. A pleasant sigh escaped her. It had been a while since she had been in a chair this nice. So comfortable. The fabric was so soft, the cushions so… cushy. Her eyes began to drift closed.

She jerked up. No, she couldn’t sleep. Not now. Not ever, if she had her way. She had to stay alert. She couldn’t let herself fall asleep. No more nightmares.

Pushing herself out of the chair, she instead walked over to the door, realizing she hadn’t checked to see if it was locked. It would be strange if it weren't,  but it was still worth checking. When she turned the knob and it didn't open, she wasn't surprised. It was when she heard footsteps that she was. Half-tempted to stay at the door and listen, she instead backed away. If they were coming in here, she didn’t want to be too close to the door.

The footsteps stopped, and Mirabel could hear muttering voices. But just as she took a step towards the door to try and listen, it opened. She froze in place as the door swung wide, revealing a tall woman. The woman was clothed in a costly dress, the fabric glistening in the torchlight that lit the halls. Mirabel half suspected the woman was wearing heeled shoes to add to her height as well. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a woman so tall. As the woman stepped forward into the room, Mirabel’s suspicions were confirmed by the telltale clicking on stone before she reached the carpet.

Mirabel took another step back as the woman stepped inside the room. Whereas earlier the only thing she could think of was escape, suddenly the room felt safe to her, and the woman dangerous. Perhaps it was the cold expression on her face, or even the way she walked, but something about her was intimidating. And Mirabel didn’t like it. If this was her host, she worried to find out what they wanted from her.

It had never quite crossed her mind what her captor would want her for. She had been too busy thinking of ways to escape before she reached her destination. Before she reached here. But now she was here, she did wonder. What did this woman want her for? Why had she been kidnapped? She wasn’t even next in line for the throne, so it couldn’t be anything to do with that. What would a noblewoman of Omsk want with a mute princess?

“Princess Mirabel.” A voice broke into her thoughts. “I do hope you’re enjoying your stay so far.” The woman was speaking, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Mirabel immediately decided she didn’t like her. She reminded her too much of some of the nastier politicians with whom her father would have to meet from time to time.

The woman sighed dramatically. “But of course, you can’t answer me, can you? The infamous mute princess of Lucerne. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Infamous? Mirabel didn’t think she was that well known. Perhaps throughout her own kingdom, but she would never have thought that rumors of her had reached as far as Omsk. A mute princess may be an oddity, but the thought of being infamous for it was rather strange. 

As Mirabel continued to stare in slight confusion, the woman chuckled. The sound was smooth, almost manufactured. Everything about her seemed that way. Fake, fabricated.

“You look confused, dear. Don’t you know why you’re here?” No, Mirabel wanted to reply, and she cursed again her inability to speak. It had never been so inconvenient to her as it had these past weeks.

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed. Fake. “Where are my manners? Here you are, a guest in my home, and I haven’t even introduced myself yet.”

Mirabel’s eyes flicked to the still open door. She could care less who the woman was. If she could only get past her…

“My name is Gisella.” Mirabel froze, and her eyes turned back to the woman. “Queen of Omsk.”

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A/N Hello hello! I have returned with a new chapter! It feels like it's been forever since I updated, but it's only been a couple of weeks or so :P Anyway, welcome to Camp NaNo, during which you shall be receiving more regular updates xD Such as this one. 

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter :D It was harder to write than most (probably because I'm too worried about my word count - oops), but I think it came out pretty good :3 Tell me what you guys think? The more comments I get, the more motivation I have x3 So, comment, vote, you know the drill. Love you guys! xx

(P.S. Over on the side there's another picture of Mirabel, this time courtesy of my lovely sister :3 She decided to draw it for me after she saw the last one.)