Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Lord Sir paces in his room, his delicate gray embroidered robes swirling. Today, he's got a silver headband over his brow, and it hugs right up against his plated horns. It's crusted in jewels and the swirly symbol that repeats on the walls and the doors here, which must be his house symbol of some kind. He's got jewelry on his tail and on his fingers, and something under his robes clinks and tinkles when he walks, which makes me think of jeweled shoes of some kind. "I don't understand this," he mutters. "Remind me what he said in his correspondence?"
The female servant rips at a snarl in my hair, then spritzes something that reeks of flowers on my scalp. The comb glides through after that, for which I'm thankful, even if I do stink and Crulden will hate it. "His missive indicated that he and his mate are visiting an ambassador in the area. They heard you were at your vacation home and wished to pay their respects. I did not detect any hidden messages in what he sent."
"There has to be a reason," he gripes. For the first time since I've been his slave, Lord Sir looks agitated. "His timing is very suspect, as is the fact that he's dragging that human creature here."
"I'm told by my spies in their household that his human mate is pregnant with their third offspring," the bird servant says calmly. "Perhaps that is why he brings her with him?"
Wait, what? There's a guy coming with a human wife? I try not to let my surprise show on my face. I thought humans were slaves and playthings. If the lords back on his home planet are anything like Lord Sir, I feel super sorry for that poor sucker that had to marry someone. She was probably coerced. He probably beats the stuffing out of her and rapes her constantly. I clench my jaw and fight back a shudder. Sometimes I forget that I'm one of the lucky ones because Lord Sir mostly forgets I'm around…until now. "So what do you want me to do?" I ask, interrupting. "Is there a reason I'm supposed to be here?"
"You," Lord Sir snaps, "will be silent unless spoken to."
The female servant tugs on my hair, and I don't know if it's a warning or a punishment, but I get the hint. I shut my mouth and wait.
"Lord va'Rin's human wife will want company," Lord Sir finally says. "She was very excited to hear I had a human of my own." His mouth thins as he looks at me. "I want you to find out what their purpose is in coming here. I want you to be her friend and report back everything to me. Understand?"
I stare at him mulishly. My expression probably tells him what I think of that idea.
Lord Sir studies his nails, picking at a cuticle. His hands probably aren't rough like mine. They won't snag on soft fabric. He stares at his fingers thoughtfully and then looks over at me. "I know you have concerns about Crulden's readiness for the upcoming championship. I, too, have concerns. If you find out useful information and be a good spy, perhaps we'll delay his debut." He gives me a thin-lipped smile. "I know how much you value your position as his prized toy. So think on that."
I can't tell if that's bribery or blackmail. I suppose it doesn't matter. Information in exchange for buying Crulden some safety? I'll be all over this chick. "What's her name?" I ask, and when he shoots me another nasty look, I add in, "I should at least know her name if I'm your prized pet."
"As if I know such things?" Lord Sir asks with a tired voice. "I don't keep track of all my associates and their abhorrent predilections in bed."
"Milly," the bird servant says softly. "Her name is Milly. And he is very fond of her."
Yeah, I'll bet. I bet Milly chokes an excellent cock, and that's where all his fondness comes from. Doesn't matter. If it helps Crulden, she's going to be my new best friend.
I worry about Crulden all afternoon as I follow behind Lord Sir like a trained dog. He paces all over the compound, barking orders to slaves already stressed out from preparations. Ferns in the gardens are trimmed. The sand in the arena pits is raked fresh. The gladiator barracks are inspected and slaves cleaned and dressed in their finest. New bouts are staged in obvious locations so this new lord can admire Lord Sir's gladiator stable. I keep to Lord Sir's side, hating the way that everyone stares at me in my whisper-thin gown. It snags on everything, too. The path. The ferns we pass by. A guard steps on the long, flowing hem.
I'd kick someone but I don't have shoes to go with this dumb gown.