Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
The last time I saw him, he had worn the full armor of the Hope Crushing Horde, a combination of braided leather and chitinous bony plates embedded with complex circuitry. Today he’d traded it for a lighter spacer armor woven of ballistic material that looked like leather but shielded like reinforced steel. A belt with pockets hugged his waist, supporting an array of wooden and bone charms dangling from it. A golden medallion, a sharp-rayed sun studded with jewels, hung from a leather cord around his neck, identifying him as the emissary of the Khan.
Now it made sense. These were the observers. Miralitt did say that they would pop through in batches between the formal delegations. One of the delegations was from a Southern otrokar clan. The Khan and Khanum were both Northerners and there were always tensions between North and South within the Horde. They had sent their son to see what happens.
Envoy or not, his knife was still with him, a long slender blade riding in a sheath on his thigh. He was deadly with it. Sean would just love this.
The other being was clearly a vampire. Vampire knights lived in their syn-armor, removing it only for the most private moments in the safety of their rooms, and she wore hers like a challenge. It was in excellent condition, so black it swallowed the light, and her long red cloak took it over the edge right into drama. She carried a blood sword in a sheath on her hip. A mane of brown hair dripped over her shoulders, inconveniently obscuring the house crest on her chest. Her face was beautiful and familiar somehow, although I was sure I had never seen her before.
The otrokar and the vampire stared at each other, and I saw the precise moment they both realized that whoever spoke first would get greeted first. The Horde and the Holy Anocracy were at peace, but their rivalry was alive and well. They opened their mouths at the same time.
“Greetings, honored guests!” I said before they decided to get offended and start a brawl.
The otrokar got there half a second earlier. “Winter sun to you. So good to see you again, Dina.”
The vampire knight clamped her mouth shut. He shot her a triumphant glance.
Yes, we have met before and know each other. No need to rub it in.
“Winter sun to you also, Under-Khan Dagorkun. How are your mother and father?”
“The Khan and Khanum are well,” Dagorkun told me. “My mother recalls you fondly and has tasked me with delivering this tea to you.” He produced a small ornate box.
“I’m deeply honored.” I bowed my head and let a tendril rise out of the floor and swipe the box from his hands.
The vampire knight rolled her eyes.
I turned to her. “Greetings…”
“No need for formalities,” the vampire knight said. “My name is Alvina, Lady Renadra, Commander of the Krahr Vanguard, Daughter of Soren and Alamide.”
Lord Soren? Oh. Oh!
“You may call me Karat,” she said, hammering every word in like it was a nail in Dagorkun’s coffin. “I am Arland’s cousin. His favorite cousin. And I am your sister’s best friend.”
She pulled a small packet from the inside of her cloak. “Lady Helen sent these treats for the feline creature. She also sent you a hug and a kiss, but you will have to imagine it. I do not go around kissing random humans.”
Karat tossed her hair back and triumphantly strode toward me, leaving Dagorkun behind.
The Throne Room was full. The guests murmured to each other in a dozen languages and traded dirty looks. Gertrude Hunt was on high alert, ready to snatch anyone who stepped out of line.
If I were to draw the Throne Room, it would look like a narrow rectangle. At the top of the rectangle was the massive door through which everyone had entered. Sean stood by it, wearing his innkeeper robe and holding his spear. At the bottom of the rectangle was the throne platform, where I now waited.
Large screens ran along the perimeter of the room, placed where the walls met the ceiling and tilted toward the audience. A swarm of small mobile cameras, ranging in size between a walnut and a plum, zipped above the crowd. The event would be broadcast across the Dominion. The Sovereign’s PR chief had installed a tight beam transmitter that actually shot the data from the inn through the portal to the Dominion to avoid any delay. I had no idea that kind of technology even existed. The cost had to be staggering.
The Dominion’s etiquette dictated that nobody could sit higher than the Sovereign. We solved that problem by raising the throne platform to six feet high and making two seating galleries, one on each side of it. I filled the galleries with cushy ornate seats arranged in three rows, packed the observers into the gallery on my right, and stationed Gaston there to keep things calm.