Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
“We’re here,” Lyssa declares. “That was easy. Now. Are you ready for the next part?”
“I don’t know.”
She extends a trusting human hand to me and smiles up at me with a kind of secure knowing I wish I could share in.
“I learned this trick from a woman named Marjorie.”
“Who is Marjorie?”
“I really don’t actually know, but she taught me this, and I know it is absolutely devastating. Now. Show me the way to the very heart of this place. The throne room, if you will.”
* * *
Lyssa
This is working. I can’t believe this is actually working. Manik’s homeworld is very pretty and very chaotic. It sort of looks like a bunch of ancient construction overlaid with modern upgrades, one after the other after the other. Outside the palace, I saw a great many wonders. There are streets on top of streets, winding paths from here to there, an endless multitude of connections. It is almost like an ant-hill, or a computer, or perhaps even, a living mind. I am deeply impressed, and more than a little overwhelmed — though I don’t have time to give into that feeling.
“Remember, we belong here,” I murmur to Manik, who is executing my plan perfectly, striding through the halls with absolute confidence.
We walk into the throne room — just walk in. Manik’s reputation has clearly not faded here one little bit. There are all sorts of soldiers and officials and other sorts of fairly dangerous-looking and noble aliens about. They watch us with the same confusion I watched Marjorie walk into my life. I feel their slack-jawed stares in the very core of my soul. I know exactly how they feel. And I love it.
Manik takes the throne which sits upon a golden dais. The throne is gold and adorned with scaling which mimics his own form. It was clearly made to fit him perfectly. As soon as he sits in it, I can see the most perfect belonging before me. He wasn’t made for a solitary life being a monster in the woods. He was made to sit here in this great, grand hall full of past sculptures and present technology. He was made to be the madness at the core of mightiness. I am awed. I even feel a slight urge to bow.
He looks around the room with his golden eyes, his expression shifting from fierce to relaxed, the planes and plates of his face composing themselves as he re-accustoms himself to that hallowed seat.
There is a delicious awkwardness. A sort of silence punctuated with gasps and utterances of shock and horror, and maybe excitement. There are a few smatterings of what might be applause, or perhaps the cocking of weapons. I’m not sure, and I don’t care. What this moment takes is a supreme amount of nerve and nothing else.
Manik draws a breath, and finally speaks.
“Hello,” he says, sprawling casually in the throne. “I’m back.”
The courtiers are trying to work out whether or not they should bow to him or attempt to kill him, but nobody is brave enough for that. I do like his species. They’re very beautiful. I am surrounded by scales and glamour and shining eyes that make me feel very meaty and plain.
“I thought you were dead, Manik.” A female voice finally greets him as someone new enters the chamber.
“Sorry to disappoint, Enchante,” he drawls.
All eyes turn to her, including mine. Enchante is beautiful. She is an elegant, tall, willowy creature with golden eyes and blue and white scales. She looks a lot like Manik actually, which is mildly concerning. Then again, I can’t talk about choice in partners, given Stan.
She glides in with her arms held slightly aloft, her elegant hands draped at the wrist, long nails painted silver and gold. On most people it would be too much, but on Enchante it looks just right. Her face is heart shaped and her hair is long and loose. She’s fucking stunning, and for a second, I am worried that I just brought Manik here to possibly hook back up with his ex. Then I remember she just sent a literal army, followed by a weapon of mass destruction.
“What are you doing, Manik?”
“He’s taking what’s his.”
She glances at me ever so briefly, her eyes sliding over me before skittering away again. It’s not so much eye contact as eye hit and run. “Who is this?”
“I’m Lyssa. And I want my fucking dog back.” There’s a pause in which I realize a little too much of my own baggage is coming to bear here. “I mean, Manik’s taking his throne back.”
“A throne is a little more than the matter of who sits in it,” Enchante says. “Manik, I knew I would see you again. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away.”
“Is that so? You sent a warhead to turn me into a crater, and you expect me to believe you anticipated my return?” Manik laughs in her face.