Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
It's another reason I have to go home tonight. He listens to me. I can go home and if nothing else, maybe I can persuade him to let me work through the night, and to give me more help.
The short walk across the compound has never seemed so damned long. Two militia soldiers—my guards—fall in behind me as I head back toward the barracks and the quarters I share with Azar. I try not to pay attention to the fact that the streets are filthy again, or that I see a grown adult chasing down one of the large bugs in the street. Getting angry at how little people want to help themselves won't help me motivate Azar. People are people, despite their flaws. If the streets are filthy again, it's because it's easier to continue to throw trash out a window instead of taking it to the collection carts. If people are eating the bugs, it's because…well, I don't know. It's because they think they won't get sick, I suppose.
Serenity, I remind myself. Be calm. You're doing everything you can.
But when the man chases the bug in front of me, I stop and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sir," I say softly. "Don't eat that."
He looks at my fancy dress, at my clean hair and my clean skin and his lip curls. I know what he's thinking. It's what I've heard a dozen times before when people think I'm not paying attention. Azar's whore. That I set myself above everyone else. That I think I'm too good for the rest of the fort.
I put a hand up before he can spit something ugly at me. "They'll give you a meal at the barracks," I continue. "Just tell them Melina sent you over. I swear they'll feed you. One of my guards can take you."
The skinny, dirty man holds the revolting bug in his hands, its many legs squirming. "And my family?"
"We'll get you enough for them, too," I soothe.
"And tomorrow? And the day after?" He spits at my feet. "Bug stew'll feed us for a week. Ain't nobody in my house that's been sick."
"Yet," I say. "My clinic is full of dying people…" He eyes my dress again and I trail off, because it's useless. If he wants to believe the worst of me, let him. And he's right. I can feed him and his family tonight, but more than that and Azar will insist that they pay for the food by either helping in the gardens or cleaning the streets. Working for the fort.
Something tells me this man won't do that. It's the way he looks at me, as if I'm trash. As if I'm fucking my way to safety. As if my stupid, princessy dress means anything other than it's been scavenged, just like the dirty shirt he's wearing. But it doesn't matter, because part of me thinks he's right. That I do get special treatment because of Azar.
So I keep a smile pasted on my face. "Just tell them Melina sent you," I say again, and continue down the road.
"Dragon whore," the man mutters.
I pretend to ignore that too. It's not even factually correct and I'm too tired to argue.
Once inside the barracks, I realize how late it is. The place is thick with the scent of candles—something that Azar tells me he dislikes but tolerates for my sake—and shadows coat every room. The sun is going down quicker now, and it's a bit cooler as we head toward the end of the year. I contemplate dinner—do I head straight for the table or do I go wash first? I feel grimy and tired, but I know Azar's waiting for me, so I head for the dining room.
Ever since Gwen and Vaan elected to move to Fort Dallas, they have dinner with us. Rachel and her dragon, Jurik, always have a place set as well, but they're harder to pin down. They don't like Azar and don't trust me because I'm with him, and so they avoid us more often than not. I'm not entirely surprised that when I go into the dining hall, it's just Azar sitting there, a book in hand as he nibbles on a slice of fruit. He looks up the moment I arrive, his eyes flashing dark for a moment. "You're late."
"My day was fine, dear," I joke. "Just flipping great. Thanks for asking." I flop into the chair next to his and put my head down. "Can we skip dinner? I'm not hungry."
"You smell like vomit," Azar tells me, closing his book and pushing his plate of fruit away.
I give him a tired look. "That's probably because someone vomited on me."
He gets to his feet. "You are going to have a bath," he announces. "And I will feed you as you bathe, because someone clearly needs to take care of you."