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)
I won’t tell Mila that right away. I want to give her what scraps of happiness I can. I am not going to be like the rebels. I am not going to be able to give her all she wants. I am going to deny her many things for her own good, because I love her, and because loving someone is not always the same as pleasing them.
“Come,” I say. “We must return to our guests.”
The rest of the evening is less heinous. I manage to swap a few pleasantries with Edward Idaho. He is not an entirely unpleasant man. He is intelligent, and he can be quite witty. Beneath the banal banter that serves as a social lubricant, he is capable of understanding a great deal. He is dangerous, the sort of man I should be trying to keep close.
I find myself reevaluating the potential companionship between my bride and his. Part of the blessing of marriage is creating social connections. This might herald a new era in my fight for the Artifice.
“I may take you up on that offer to hunt,” I say. “What is your favorite desert quarry?”
“My favorite dessert quarry is chocolate mousse,” Elizabeth giggles.
Cordingly takes the hint and dives toward the kitchen.
“The bigger the better,” Edward says. “I killed a mega boar on my last venture. A 50 cal barely scratches those things.”
Mega boars are descendants of wild pigs that bred with farmed pigs to create a sort of super pig. Those pigs then continued to evolve at an advanced pace, adapting to the various changing conditions of war and pestilence. They are now over a thousand pounds, and practically armored, their hides are so thick. They dig dens in the desert and make their home in ruins. They can survive extreme cold by regulating temperature underground, and they are so cunning as to be practically uncatchable.
“You should come to my house and see its head,” he says. “I had the boar mounted in the foyer. Only place big enough for it to fit!”
I am sure that is not true, but I am curious as to what that would look like. I try not to get caught up in superficial pursuits, but that sight would be quite something.
“That actually was rather nice in the end,” my bride says once we have farewelled our guests for the evening. “Thank you for indulging me. I know it was painful for you.”
“You are welcome. It was not entirely unpleasant.”
“I’d like to go out with Elizabeth soon,” she says. “I think she’s going to invite me for a walk in the gardens.”
I feel a little uncertain. My basic instinct is to tell Mila that she is a grown, married woman, and does not have to get my permission to go anywhere or do anything. That is the legal truth of the matter, but the real truth is that I absolutely will tell her where she can go and what she can do.
“That sounds like a good time,” I say.
“Good! I’m going tomorrow!”
CHAPTER 8
Mila
“No! Why?”
“Believe me, brat, I would rather not be here,” Lydia says, turning her eyes skyward for a moment.
“Then don’t be here. Go somewhere else.”
She doesn’t dignify that comment with a response. I know she has no choice. Arthur told her to guard me, and so she must. Everybody has to do what Arthur says all the time. Except Edward Idaho, and other aristocrats who break the law he enforces at their own peril.
I don’t think I’ve fully appreciated his position in society. He’s not just a military leader. He’s also the chief of police, judge, and jury for many. He’s as close to an autocrat as it is possible to be while still following the edicts of the Artifice.
Lizzie meets me at the gardens. Her smile broadens when she sees me, then fades a little when she sees who is behind me.
“Hi, Mila! How are you?”
She sounds a little forced.
“I’m good. How are you?”
Great, now I sound weird. The two of us are never going to be able to have a normal conversation.
We smile at one another, silently communicating the awkwardness with our eyes. I can see her casting dubious looks at Lydia, and I know that she will not speak truly freely in front of her. This is not going to be any kind of fun if we can’t get away from her.
“Let’s walk in the gardens,” I suggest.
“Yes, a walk in the gardens would be nice,” she replies.
We walk into the gardens together, walking rather closely.
“Does she follow you everywhere?” Lizzie whispers to me.
“Yes, Arthur says I need protection,” I whisper back.
“From what? There’s nobody here but us and some old ladies. Which one of the old ladies is supposed to be the assassin?”
“I know,” I sigh. “I’ve tried to tell him nobody cares about who I am, but he insists on sending her. There’s nothing I can do about it.”