Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
I stroke the stupid onion with my fingers, knowing that we’re not going to eat it. Ever. I’m going to keep this onion forever just because it will remind me of this moment. Nemeth doesn’t realize how touched I am that he’s done this for me. Other than my sister, people tend to only do things for me because they have to, or because they want something from me. Nemeth just did it to make me smile. I touch the tiny splinters of wood, the peppercorns he somehow glued to the end of each one with a substance that looks like honey. It must have been a lot of fiddly work, and to think he did it all so quietly as I slept. “Some people give gifts, but it’s mostly parties and food for the feast. Oh, and party games.”
“What sorts of games?” he asks. “Perhaps we can do them here.”
With just two people? I don’t know how effective that will be, but it’s sweet of him to want to try. “Well, there’s a game where one of the king’s rings is hidden into a cake, and everyone gets a piece. If you get the ring in your piece, you get to rule court for a day. And then there is a dessert full of minced nuts and if you get a whole nut in your dessert, it’s supposed to be lucky. That you’re supposed to be exceptionally fertile in the next year.”
“Mmm. We can avoid that one, I think.”
I chuckle. “It’s pretty useless for one such as me anyhow.”
“Why is that?”
I wave his question aside. “Most of court likes drinking games, or flirting games. Things that involve kissing.”
There goes his cloak again, shaking with agitation as the wings underneath move. Is he even aware that he’s doing that? It’s such an obvious tell that I think perhaps he has no idea. “I doubt you would want to play such things with me.”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I am up for any kind of game. And while I’m not a huge fan of kissing old men in a game, I’ve done so in the past, just because I like to win.” I give him a sly look. “Did I mention that I’m competitive?”
“Gods help us both,” he mutters. Nemeth gestures at me, his big hand motioning where I’m nestled in bed. “You pick the game. I will play.”
I consider, turning the onion over carefully in my hands. “Do your people have games they play?”
“Ours are mostly ones of skill. Flight games.” He shrugs. “I do not think you would be able to play.”
No, I suppose not. I consider the games I know that can be played without additional props or people. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t involve rather lascivious sorts of things or court frivolity, so I decide to make one up. “I suppose we could play…Secrets.”
“Secrets?”
“Yes. I give you a challenge. Something small, like ‘Go across the room and touch the wall’ or whatever. If you decide not to perform my challenge, you must tell me a secret instead.”
Nemeth frowns at me, moving to sit on the stool beside the bed. “This sounds like a foolish game.”
“Highly foolish,” I agree. “But did you have another way you were planning on spending the afternoon?” I give him a challenging look. “Is your day full of meetings? You have many things to discuss with your advisors?” I lift a corner of the blanket and peer under. “Are your advisors hiding under here?”
He chuckles. “Fine. Fine. You win. We shall play your secrets game. All right?” When I beam approval at him, he says, “Who goes first?”
“Me, because I’m the lady.” When he raises a brow, I nod. “Those are the rules. I swear. All right. For my first challenge I…” I look around the room, trying to decide. Then, the idea hits me and I hold out my onion. “I want you to eat another one of these peppercorns.”
Making a face, Nemeth takes the onion from me and pulls another peppercorn free with his lips. They lock around the kernel in a rather impressive sort of way that fascinates me, and then he pulls the toothpick free and crunches down on the peppercorn. A moment later, he grimaces and gives his head a shake, but he doesn’t sneeze once.
“Very nice,” I tell him. “Now you’re doubly my suitor, aren’t you?” I give him a sly wink. “I suppose it’s a good thing we don’t have the minced nut cakes for fertility.”
His cloak shakes violently even as he narrows his eyes at me. “You are trying to embarrass me.”
“I am,” I agree. “I find your embarrassment utterly charming.”
There’s a pained expression on his face, but his cloak gives another vigorous flutter.
“I told you I’m a flirt,” I warn him.
“You did.”
“Should I stop? I can tone myself down if you feel uncomfortable.”