Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
She tilted her chin up. “Yes.”
I knocked on the door. “Her Grace Caldenia ka ret Magren to see Lady Wexyn Dion-Dian.”
The door swung open, and a veiled male attendant with dark eyeliner, broad shoulders, and tan muscular arms invited us in with a bow. We followed him inside.
The door opened to the courtyard paved with pale brown stones. A brook wound its way around it, spilling into a wide pond. Beautiful Fortune trees leaned over the blue pond like slender women, dripping their long branches with lemon-yellow leaves into the water. An ornate wooden pavilion perched on the shore, cushioned in Fortune trees and ornamental shrubs. Within the pavilion, Lady Wexyn reclined on a chaise, sipping tea from a flower-shaped cup.
She had traded her spectacular golden tree for a small crown of glittering green jewels that was likely worth millions but seemed modest in comparison. A chocolate-brown, diaphanous skirt hid her legs, secured by a wide sash of lighter russet embroidered with gold. The sash wound around her hips, clasped in place with an elaborate golden brooch showcasing a green gemstone the size of a walnut. A pale, rose gold top wrapped her ample breasts, leaving the soft stomach bare. Another wide translucent sash, this one green, completed the outfit, draping strategically over her shoulders and waist. She was barefoot and a dozen thin bracelets and anklets decorated her wrists and ankles.
She saw Caldenia and rose in one fluid movement, dipping her head. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Letere Olivione! You honor me.”
“Greetings,” Caldenia said, her face radiating menace. Her Grace, joy personified.
Lady Wexyn lowered herself to the chaise. Everything she did was beautiful. She was like a gifted artist who painted with her body instead of a brush.
Attendants appeared, deposited tea and snacks on a side table, and withdrew silently like brightly colored wraiths.
Caldenia scrutinized Lady Wexyn, who sipped her tea and fluttered her eyelashes.
“You look like your mother. Has she spoken of me?”
“Yes, Letere Olivione. At length.” Lady Wexyn nodded, her expression earnest and devoid of any subtlety.
“Then this will be quicker and simpler. If you interfere with my plans, I will kill every creature within your little Temple and explode the planet on which it perches.”
Okay then.
“Oh my goodness!” Lady Wexyn opened her eyes as big as they could go.
Caldenia narrowed hers.
Lady Wexyn gazed back at her, a picture of innocence.
A few moments passed.
“Dina,” Caldenia said. “Please leave us.”
I looked at her.
“I won’t harm her,” Caldenia said.
Great. Now if I refused, she would take it as an insult. Caldenia had never broken a promise to me, but there was always the first time.
“Do you wish to allow Her Grace to remain in your quarters?” I asked.
“Yes,” Lady Wexyn said. “It is a blessing to be in her presence.”
Blessing was one way to put it. “Should you encounter any difficulties, call my name.”
“I shall,” she promised with a solemn expression.
Why did I get a sense that I was being humored?
The two of them were looking at me. Both guests requested privacy for their conversation. Not much I could do.
“Very well.”
I walked away from the pavilion. Whether she liked it or not, Gertrude Hunt was Caldenia’s chosen sanctuary. I just had to hope she remembered that.
The Pit of the Dushegubs was 50 yards across and 200 yards deep. Even if they stood on top of each other, they couldn’t climb out. Three feet of murky water enriched with nutrients flooded the edges of the hole’s bottom. In the center, a small mud island offered a bit of dry land. Above, a high-powered light source simulated the lavender sun of the Dushegubs’ planet, cycling between red in the morning, violet-blue during the day, and a deep purple in the evening.
It was night now, and the light had dimmed to an indigo glow mimicking the native fluorescent clouds. In this diffused light, the Dushegubs were mere shadows, a tangle of roots and branches slithering over each other like black serpents. Luckily for me, Gertrude Hunt had excellent sensors, and the view on my massive screen was crystal clear.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to relax. Everyone else was safely in their quarters for the night. I had locked them all in so nobody could wander. My feet hurt, and my head buzzed a bit, as if a swarm of bees was trying to settle inside my skull after a busy day of flying and collecting honey. Beast napped in her dog bed by the wall. She’d rolled onto her back, and her four paws lay limp, sticking out in the air.
Even my dog was worn out.
Sean slipped into the room and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned my head against his warm muscular forearm.
“Problems?” he asked.
“They should have formed a copse for the night.”
Sean glanced at the screen. The Dushegubs were treading water in small groups, three or four trees in each one.