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)
Maeve makes a happy sound and shoves the entire thing into her mouth. Her eyes flutter closed and she moans. "Oh my god," she manages around a mouthful of sweetened bread. "S'amazing."
"Right? And I can't even point that out to Ruth-Ann." Simone sounds disgruntled. "Not that I would. But...whatever." Her gaze moves over me again, her expression turning accusing. "You look different than yesterday."
How am I supposed to take that? Is it an accusation or a compliment? "Yesterday I was cleaning the barn."
Her shoulders relax just a little. "You did look a bit messy."
"Took me hours to get all the hay out of his hair," Maeve adds, and then makes a snipping motion with her fingers. "Hence the cut." Her gaze moves to my roll, still wrapped in its paper. "You gonna eat that?"
Of course I am. It is rude of her even to ask. But I notice that Simone watches me with narrowed eyes, and so I grit my teeth and offer it to Maeve. "We should go soon."
"Right, I don't want to keep you guys from your wedding night." Simone manages a smile. "Congratulations again, and don't be a stranger, Maeve. You know I worry."
Maeve smiles around her mouthful of my roll.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
ZHUR
The human ceremony is laughably brief and full of platitudes that mean absolutely nothing. Things like “honor and obey” and “stand by each other's side through health and sickness” and some other drivel. Do humans think that chanting these words somehow makes their bond more special than a regular mating bond? That saying useless words means something when actions are far more important?
I am trying to do things the human way, but this seems ridiculous. I have not even scent-marked Maeve's door. Actually, I should do so when we return to her home, so that any praxiian that comes by will know she is claimed. The fact that I have not done so yet is a finger pointing at the falseness of our marriage, and it worries me.
Luckily the szzt at the courthouse does not have the scenting capability that a praxiian does. If there is anything amiss in our pairing, he does not notice it. He asks for no identification, and when I offer—as I had a false ID implanted before I left—he waves a hand in dismissal. He asks us basic questions about whether we are here of our own free will and goes through his routine with a look of boredom on his face. Maeve tries to talk his ear off anyhow, asking him how many marriages he performs a day, and what other things he does with his time, and how did he get the knowledge of human ceremonies, and the szzt male just looks as if he wants her to be silent.
But then the paperwork is signed and we are given a certification on a sheet of plas and told to take it to the custodial office. The moment we exit the door, Maeve runs into someone else she knows and they talk for far too long in the street while I hold the box of sweets and the certification and try to hide my annoyance at the fact that my human apparently knows everyone in this town and wants to stop all of them for a conversation.
No wonder the authorities came out when Maeve did not show up for two days.
The human woman doesn't look in my direction, her gaze fixed on Maeve. They chat for a while and then Maeve puts a hand on my arm, beaming up at me as if I am a god. "This is my new husband, Connie. We just got married."
I manage a smile that bares all my teeth, but Connie's expression relaxes the moment she hears that. "Oh, I wasn't sure."
"Why else would I hover behind Maeve and hold her things?" I ask, irritated.
Maeve steps on my foot again and leans in to Connie. "Tell me about your neighbor. Did you guys work that boundary issue out?"
Going anywhere with Maeve in this small town is excruciating, I decide after another hour. It takes forever for us to get into the Port custodian office, and then we run into the custodian's wife again, and Maeve takes even more time talking to her. I sit in a chair and try to smile while the two talk about fabric and imports and something called “tamp-ons” and how difficult they are to get here, but I'm very much ready to return to the farm. Everyone stares at me, and my earlier bravado has given way to unease. I am ready to go back to the safety of Maeve's hovel, because at least there I know I am safe. Relatively safe, at least. Here in Port, anyone that eyes me for too long makes me suspicious. Is there a bounty on my head? Are they on the lookout for praxiians? Is the dye in my mane running?