Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“What am I to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is to fill my days now?”
He cocks his head at me, giving me another one of those looks that I cannot quite interpret. “What used to fill your days?”
“Well, I used to walk in the countryside and ride horses, and talk with my mother and sister. Sometimes I would embroider or cross-stitch.”
“I see,” he says. “You have lived a life of leisure. Once you have our first baby, you will be much busier. But for now, you will be able to continue that life in a manner of speaking. I may send you out with one of the servants to shop for clothing. The styles are different here, and you may wish to purchase new attire in order to make an impression socially. I already have invitations for affairs for us both to attend, and as you came with no luggage whatsoever…”
“You will not be shopping with me?”
He gives me a look, somewhat pitying, somewhat amused. “What do you think I do, Mila?”
“I don’t know. War things, I imagine. Though there’s no war here, in this city, so probably writing reports and talking to people and waiting for the Artifice to tell you what to do?”
I see him flinch slightly at the last part of my sentence. He does not like the fact that I just said the Artifice told him what to do. That’s interesting. Our entire situation, the fact that I am here, his, being used by him and bred by him is because the Artifice decreed it. And he just told me how a substance that makes people not believe in the Artifice is being suppressed by the military. He is the military.
He’s conflicted. I wonder what a conflicted general might do.
I wonder if anybody really likes being told what to do, even the most loyal of soldiers. I know I’ve never really liked it. I know that the order imposed by the Artifice is for our own good, but I have to admit, the idea of living in such a way that you make your own rules sounds intriguing. Ridiculous though; how would that even begin to work? It wouldn’t, and that is why we have the Artifice now.
While I mull it, and him, over, Arthur gets up and goes to the bathroom. I hear the shower start to run. A new day is beginning for him. I do not know what it will bring for me. I am naked in a bed full of bits of toast and flakes of bacon and the dried remains of the lust we shared.
I am suddenly aware that my days have the potential to be rather lonely. If he is busy doing whatever terribly important things are required of him in his role, what will I be doing? Even if I were to fall pregnant immediately, it would be months and months before our baby were to be born, and infants are notoriously poor at conversation.
“You said we had invitations to go somewhere. What invitations do we have?”
He emerges from the bathroom, naked aside from a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I have one for tonight,” he says. “If you purchase a gown suitable for the event. It is a soiree hosted by the Good Society, a fundraiser for the poor. It might be a good time and place for you to meet my friends before we host here.”
I’m going to be expected to host, and much more, I realize. My mother and Maraline spent years going over those sorts of things. I was supposed to learn them too, but I never really paid all that much attention.
“Who will shop with me?”
“Lydia will accompany you.”
“Does she know anything about looking fashionable? She’s a soldier through and through.”
“Yes, she is, and she’s going to ensure your safety almost as well as I would. I trust her with your life, and that is to say I would trust her with everything.”
I smile at his sweet concern for my protection, but that doesn’t solve my problem. “I need someone who can tell me what I should buy.”
“Lydia is not just a soldier. She is also a woman,” he reminds me. “She will be useful.”
Lydia is not dressed in her formal uniform when I meet up with her, still wearing the dress I arrived in yesterday. She is wearing pants, though, and long boots that rise up above her knee. She is also wearing a silk blouse that billows dramatically when she moves. She resembles a swashbuckler.
“I need to find dresses for formal engagements,” I explain. “I need to know what is in style, and what is not.”
“Nobody will dare sell you a dress that is out of style,” Lydia says. “It would destroy their reputation as a retailer. You are the wife of one of the most decorated generals in the history of the Artifice. Archon-General Darken is an illustrious figure in this city. You will be treated well wherever you go.”