Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
...and for some reason, I find the thought of all of this hideousness incredibly charming and appealing.
I envision a daughter with my ears and Maeve's nosiness. She would be so good at politics. She would charm everyone with her words and ensure that every courtier in her presence felt special. Or a son? A son that enjoys fixing mechanical things, and with small fangs. A son who can side with me against Maeve when I say that bread is terrible and meat should be the only thing on the dinner plate. Perhaps we could have a boy and a girl...
I close the idea out of my mind. It is not for me. I am an exile with nothing to my name and assassins searching the galaxy to exterminate me. The last thing I should be thinking about is children. Straightening my shoulders, I push the idea aside and head into the bedroom to check on the supply of plas we have available.
CHAPTER
EIGHTY-SEVEN
MAEVE
The next morning, I decide we need a nice, healthy distraction after all the stress we've been putting ourselves through. Between finding out Zhur is some sort of cat prince and that he might have assassins on his tail and that plas-film conversation last night? It is absolutely distraction o’clock.
Luckily I have just the thing.
After I shower the next morning, I check in on Zhur. He's sleeping late, sprawled in our bed on his stomach. I decide to let him sleep in and go to the kitchen to make myself some tea. As I drink it and nibble on one of Simone's pastries, I check my feeds to ensure that the farm is running smoothly. All bot programs are on time, with a soil aeration cycle scheduled for later this afternoon. The cattle feeds look normal, and when the system asks if I want to move the cattle to a different pasture, I hit the “accept” button and then turn my attention to my distraction plan.
The sad little plant I got from Kazex looks even sadder today. It droops over the edge of the pot, no longer standing upright. The leaves are curled and have a hint of yellow and I sit down at the table to study it closely. Poor thing. I feel a twinge of guilt that I'm counting on the plant being sickly so I can use it as an excuse, but I remind myself that it was not doing well when Kazex had it, either. I'm not entirely responsible. Even so, I touch one of the yellow-edged, curling leaves and try to remember if a yellow leaf means too much water or not enough. I touch the soil and it seems damp, but how damp is too damp? In the end, I decide it's better to have more water in case the plant is thirsty, and add another cup of it to the pot. It soaks up into the soil immediately, as if proving that yes, my plant needed that water after all.
Satisfied, I give the plant a little pat and go back to my drink. I muse over the possibilities for meeting this Nassakth guy. Obviously we won't come on strong. It'll need to be a gentle, neighborly sort of introduction. We need to seem benign and helpless, and above all, harmless. I finish my tea and go to my limited wardrobe, wondering what I should wear that screams "Nice neighbor lady that knows fuck-all about plants." I should bring some of Simone's pastries, I think. Just a neighbor bringing by snacks and asking about her valuable, rare plant that's dying no matter how much she takes care of it. Green might be too on the nose. Maybe a slate blue tunic over gray pants? And a ponytail, I decide. Nothing says business quite like a ponytail.
When I have my outfit picked out, I pull out clothing for Zhur, too. It's easier to pick for him. He's only got two good jumpsuits that fit properly, and only because I added a bunch of inserts to the existing fabric. They still look worn and piecemeal, and I know he hates them. There's a stain on the breast of one and I carry it to the kitchen to work it out of the fabric, because I know he's going to want to look his best when he meets his hero.
By the time Zhur's tunic is presentable, I go to peek in on him again. Still asleep. Impatient, I move to the edge of the bed and lean over to shake his arm. "Wake up, sleepyhead. Are you going to sleep the day away?"
"Yes." He pulls the blankets over his head, and his feet stick out the other end.
I must be getting soft, because I find this cute instead of irritating. I get to my feet and move to the end of the bed. "Come on, Zhur. Wake up."