Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Not anymore. We've got new plans for that.
I clear my throat, stepping forward. "First, let me say—"
"Inside," Azar says flatly. "All of you, inside." He gestures at Melina, Rachel, Gwen, Jurik and Vaan, then at me and Mhal. He turns and glares at the militia. "You—back to your posts."
The group scatters. Rachel shoots me a quick, excited thumbs up and heads into the compound, and I'm encouraged.
Azar continues to glare at Mhal. "When I say we are doing this inside, I mean all of us. Your dragon will need to shift as a show of trust."
I cross my arms over my chest, hating his imperious tone. "But we don't trust you."
"Well, then, we're not going to get very far with these negotiations, are we?" He curls his lip in our direction, then stalks away into the compound, accompanied by Melina.
Never have I wanted to eat someone more, Mhal tells me. And I know he would taste sour and stringy.
His observation makes me chuckle, just a little. It eases some of the intense tension coursing through my system. My teeth are clenched and my shoulders tight, and I feel like I'm ready to go to battle—and the battle just went inside. I guess he doesn't want to lose face in front of everyone in the fort. And we're not trying to take the fort from him.
We're not? I would love to pry everything from that vile male's hands.
Yeah, but then what? I don't want to run it. You don't want to run it. He actually does, and he's not terrible with the humans, so let him keep ruining their lives. I don't care. I just want to take care of this Rift stuff and move on to our future.
Shall I change, then? Mhal leans in and rubs his nose against the side of my face. Or shall we begin our fight?
I look around the courtyard, where the militia is scattering and a few worried locals peer out from behind metal shutters. If we fight, it shouldn't be here. I guess if we're going to negotiate we should give him this small point. Change for now.
Change for now, Mhal agrees. Eat the bastard later.
It feels good to laugh, even if it's over something as bleak as that. Mhal nuzzles me one more time, then shifts to his two-legged form. The packs on his back clatter to the ground, the contents flying everywhere, and I sigh heavily at the sight. I guess I should have expected that. Ah well. I move to the bag with the clothing in it and pull out a cloak, wrapping it around his hips. "Here. Wear this. You know how I feel about everyone looking at what's mine."
The look he gives me is utterly imperious, but I can feel the amusement in his thoughts.
I hesitate over the clutter of bags and their contents. If we leave them in the street, they'll be stolen by the time we return. I glance around, seeing a guard near the door, and decide to play this up with complete confidence. I march up to him and point at our things. "I brought gifts for some of Azar's people. Don't let them be stolen. I'll be back soon. Understand?"
The soldier—who would have sneered at me back when I was in the panty program—nods crisply at me. "Your things will be protected." The look he gives me is one of respect, and I realize it's not just Mhal's presence that he's responding to. I've moved into the same strange position that Gwen and Rachel are in—where they're part of the fort but not part of the fort. The militia can't treat me like before, so now I'm getting the good treatment.
Well then, I'm going to take advantage of that.
Head high, I sweep into the compound with Mhal at my side. A woman in a plain gray dress gestures that we should follow her. A servant? I didn't even know Azar had servants, but I guess so. I let her lead us in, and she brings us down a long hall and into a room filled with candles. Pretty candelabras decorate a long meeting table and paintings from a museum decorate the walls. The chairs here are big and heavy, made from so much carved wood that they seem the height of extravagance. It's like being in a Regency movie, and if I turn my head, servants are going to flood in with ten courses of food in silver trays.
Actually, that's not a bad idea.
I sit at the far end of the table, as far from Azar as I can, and pat the seat next to me, indicating that Mhal should join me. He sits, his back stiff and regal, and I lounge in my chair as if I've always been this arrogant jerk. "We're going to need dinner," I say. "A good one. Not that shit you serve the soldiers and the girls in the program. Real food. The stuff you eat. And fresh water that's been filtered, preferably cold."