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)
Dinner is a weird affair. Milly and her husband sit on one side of the table, Lord Sir on the other. Milly's face is the pouty look of a bored housewife, and Lord va'Rin slouches in his chair slightly, as if he's bored by the wealth of dishes being brought out, as well. I'm given a bowl at a side table, behind my owner. Course after course of food is brought in, and I'm not entirely surprised when they only eat a few bites between casual conversation. Then, the plates are cleared away and a new round of delicacies are placed before them, so they can only eat one or two bites all over again.
And I have a bowl of noodles. Because of course.
I don't care, though. I'm too nervous to eat. I want to watch Milly and her husband to see what they say—if anything—to Lord Sir about Crulden. My conversation with Milly this afternoon made me hope that they're going to get him out of here, somehow. Milly made it sound as if they've rescued other people, given them a home on Lord va'Rin's personal “vacation” planet, much like this particular moon belongs to Lord Sir. There's just one problem—I have no idea how they're going to accomplish it.
Lord Sir is absolutely not going to give up his prize fighter, not one he's spent so much money on. Not one that he's carefully mutilated so no one will know he's a clone. It's too much money, and if there's one thing I've learned about Lord Sir in my years of being his slave, it's that he's cheap. He's cheap about everything except those stupid crystalline vases in his study. Vases? No cost too great. Staff? Get some cheap slaves and make them do all the work. I watch the ooli slaves scurry around the table, serving and clearing dishes, and notice that both Milly and Lord va'Rin do their best not to look at them. I wonder if it's to hide expressions of distaste or something else.
Actually, Milly's expression is so very careful that I worry I've trusted the wrong person. Normally I don't have trouble scarfing down my food, but today, I can't do more than pick at a few noodles with my eating sticks, my stomach tied in knots. What if she lied to me? What if I gambled on our future and lost? Did I trust her just because she's human and now she's going to fuck me over?
Have I forgotten the first rule of being a slave? Trust no one?
"I've heard that you're going to be bringing your stable to the underground championship," Lord va'Rin says casually, bringing a goblet of fruited wine to his lips. "Is that why you've spent so much time out here in the wild? Selecting the best fighters for your stable?"
I go still.
Lord Sir doesn't react. He picks at his food, selecting a choice bit and raising it to his lips. Once he's done chewing, he dabs at his mouth with a delicate, embroidered napkin and finally answers. "Are you finally taking interest in the games, Lord va'Rin? I thought you chose not to have a stable of your own."
"I am not interested in having my own teams, but I do like to follow what my fellow Homeworlders are interested in." His smile is cool. "Rumor has it that you have quite the stable."
"I showed you my fighters earlier. Or did you care for another demonstration?"
I poke at my noodles, pretending to eat. The knot in my stomach grows.
"I would like to see all of your fighters, actually," Lord va'Rin says. "One in particular interests me greatly. In fact, I've heard you've recently acquired Crulden the Ruiner."
My tongue feels like it's glued to the roof of my mouth. I try to watch the two lords out of the corner of my eye, but my table is facing away from them. The only thing I can see is the slight flick of Lord Sir's tail, indicating that he's not happy.
"Rumors. Nothing more."
"Then you're not entering him in the championship? Because I've heard that you're prepared to bet quite a bit of credits in this next tourney. I've heard your creditors have readied their accounts and are waiting for a fresh infusion of funds. I find this fascinating, since everyone on Homeworld knows that the hs'Serr family is mortgaged up to their horns."
He says Lord Sir's name strangely. I dare to sneak a glance over at Milly, but her gaze is downcast and she eats her food, a bored expression on her face, as if all this talk is uninteresting to her. She holds out her cup, not looking up. "More juice."
A slave races to refill it. I give up all pretense of trying not to watch and just stare at the table and its occupants.