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)
Before I can act on that, a figure appears in the hall. It's one of the ooli slaves, her head bent, a tray in her hands. She shuffles forward, not looking in our direction, and moves toward the food slot. I glance over at Crulden and his nostrils flare as he watches the slave. I can't tell what he's thinking, but I suspect it's not good.
The slave puts the tray in the slot, activates it, and immediately races away. Can't say I blame her.
Crulden gets to his feet, moving toward the tray that now sticks out on our side of the wall. He picks it up, and his jaw clenches. He hesitates, though, and looks over at me. "You're hungry, aren't you?"
I'm always hungry, but the way he hesitates worries me. "What's wrong with the food? Is it drugged?"
"It smells like ooli," he growls.
More smells he doesn't like. The ooli don't smell great to a human nose—it's something to do with the damp sheen on their frog like skin—so I can only imagine how bad it must be to a far more sensitive nose. "I can go get food for us," I volunteer. The more freedom I have to go out and about, the better. "I can get food for us each time you need to eat, so you won't smell anything but me."
That makes him pause. His eyes narrow as he looks over at me, considering. "And you'd come back?"
"Where else would I go?" I ask softly. He doesn't seem to realize just how trapped I am. That I no longer have quarters I can hide in. My bed's been given to another slave. The others won't let me hide amongst them. I'm now branded as his plaything, more or less, and so no one's going to trust me. I can't run away from him because the entire compound wants him happy.
But if I run errands, at least it's some sort of nod to freedom.
Crulden watches me for a long moment, utterly silent. I suspect he's mentally weighing the advantages. After a while, he grunts and picks up the tray, moving toward me. "For tonight, this will do."
He stands in front of me, and I notice that it's a different sort of tray than the kind he's normally given. There's an auto-stand button. Normally he isn't given one because he could then use it as a weapon, so I wonder if this is another test. Are they going to see how far they can push him before he hurts me? If so, I'm not a fan.
I don't show him how to activate the long extender that will make the tray stand on its own (and turn it into a club of sorts). Instead, I wait as he sets the tray on the ground and then crouches on one side, waiting for me. I sit down across from him, tucking the blanket close to my body. He's gone quiet again, and it takes me a moment to realize why. He stares at the tray, and I see what the problem is.
There's two sets of food amongst the dishes. Two carafes of liquid. One is the nicer plas-ware kept for gladiators, and the bowl is filled with steamed vegetables tossed atop thick noodles and with savory strips of meat. It's clear they're romancing Crulden with food, and there's a big serving of the fragrant, expensive juice.
The other serving is clearly for me. My dish is the old, beaten, tarnished metalware that has dents from manhandling. There's a dollop of slave nutrient sludge at the bottom, and the second carafe has water. It's no different than what I've been given every day since arriving, but the sight of it obviously bothers Crulden.
He flicks a finger at the edge of my bowl. "This offends me."
I pick up the bowl anyhow because I've learned not to be picky. "It used to offend me, too, but you get used to it. It helps if I hold my breath while I eat."
Crulden pulls it out of my hand, ignoring the sound of protest I make. "You will not eat this."
Hot disappointment flashes through me. Is he going to take my food, too? No clothes, no food, until I agree to have sex with him? Is this the game? "Then you're sharing yours?"
He picks up his bowl and offers it to me. "Yes."
I glance around, looking for the scientist or the lord, because they're not going to like that I'm eating Crulden's food. When I don't see anyone, I take a big chunk of meat and shove it into my mouth.
"They are still watching us," Crulden says easily. "They watch at all times. Even when they are not here, I know they are watching. They want to see how I react now that they have given in to my demands." He picks up a large shoot of some green vegetable and holds it out to me. "Eat this, too."