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)
It makes perfect sense that Edward likes to go out there. It allows him to be violent without truly risking all one must risk when one goes to war.
“She’s very excited about the ceremony,” he says, when I do not respond to the previous comment. “What are you and Mila going to do to celebrate the match?”
“Conceive a child,” I reply.
Mila
Arthur is being so rude. Every time Edward tries to talk to him, he refuses to answer. It’s like watching someone try to talk to a wall.
The last response is so shameful somehow. Elizabeth chokes on her food, and I feel myself going bright red. He is referring to sex, of course. He is basically announcing to everyone in the room that we… that he… fucks me.
The fact that I know what he does and how he does it makes the statement all that much more scandalous.
There is a protracted silence following his statement, then, much to my relief, Edward Idaho bursts out laughing. It seems like quite genuine merriment, so much so he reaches out and slaps Arthur on the shoulder.
“I knew there had to be life in the old dog!”
Arthur does not look any more pleased, but the tension is broken.
“Well, we are going to have an old-fashioned party, and of course the two of you must come. We intend it to be the biggest celebration New Boston has ever seen. We’re thinking of asking the Artifice for special dispensation to break a few of the customary rules.”
“Such as?”
Now Arthur is interested. He doesn’t like rule breaking of any kind.
“Nothing too serious, Archon-General. Relaxation of the gathering size rules mostly. And of course, the entertainment.”
“What kind of entertainment?”
“Better drinks and powders.”
I watch Arthur stiffen. The flint in his eyes seems to harden. I half-expect him to launch into a lecture, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, very still, his eyes on Edward. He hasn’t really changed his physical position, but something about him reminds me of a predator tensed and ready to strike.
“Better drinks and powders than the ones currently allowed?”
“Alcohol is for babes,” Edward says jovially, not noticing how poorly his words are being received.
“I hope you don’t give our baby any alcohol when we have one,” Elizabeth cuts in with a little laugh. She is reading the room much more adeptly than her husband, it seems.
“Adults should be able to enjoy themselves as they see fit. This used to be the land of the free, you know.”
“That was a long time ago,” Arthur replies softly.
I am very worried now. I think my husband has identified Edward as a rebel, and that will not do. I look over at Lydia and notice that she has gone. That realization sends prickles of concern running down my spine. Where is she? What is she doing?
I can’t afford to excuse myself from the table, but I need this conversation to stop before Edward says something very stupid. So I pretend to stand up, and in doing so, I make sure I am holding my glass of very red wine. As I stand, I ‘trip,’ hurling the contents of the glass across the table and over Arthur’s shirt.
The look he gives me suggests that he knows very well that was no accident, even as I start stammering apologies.
“I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy!”
“It’s not a problem,” Arthur says. “I’ll just take a moment and get cleaned up. You should come too, Mila. You have a few drops on your dress.”
I don’t have a speck on my dress, but I know better than to refuse to follow him.
Lydia has returned, almost as if she has spontaneously appeared at the sound of my distress. She stands at the door, surveying the scene with a nonplussed air. I am so ashamed. This is the most awkward dinner I have ever been a part of. I know Elizabeth will go home with Edward and probably laugh at how strange we all were.
Arthur and I hurry to the bedroom, where I turn on him the moment the door is closed.
He is waiting for my comment, I can tell by the wry look on his handsome face as he starts undoing his cufflinks and unbuttoning his waistcoat in preparation for removing his shirt.
“Do you have to act like the officer of the world?” I hiss the question. “Can’t you just let some other people do what they want sometimes?”
“Not if it is against the orders of the Artifice,” he says.
“You sound more like a robot than the Artifice machine is,” I snap back.
His eyes darken in my direction. “Careful, Mila. This evening may not be going as well as you hoped, but I promise you, it could get worse. You can go back out there with a sore ass.”
I bite my lip and watch as he strips his shirt off. The sight of his muscular, scarred body does mollify me somewhat. It’s hard to be angry with him when he looks so very appealing.