Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
I cleared my throat as I came to the table.
“You may, er, sit and have some breakfast with me if you wish, Guard,” I told him.
He looked down from his massive height, his eyes twinkling.
“My name is Sark, you know. And though I appreciate the invitation, would it be quite proper for a lowly guard to sit with his Mistress, my lady?”
I saw that he was teasing me but I decided not to be angry. It was almost like the light flirtation I remembered—again from all the balls Nana had brought me to, hoping to find me a husband. But of course, I was too plump for some and too “singular looking” with my pale skin and silver hair for others. And I was too poor for all, since every nobleman wants a wife of good lineage with a fine dowry.
“I do not think it improper,” I said primly, indicating the chair across from me. “I suppose since you are to be guarding me for some time, we ought to get to know one another.”
“All right—I’d like that. But I’m not sure about this chair holding my weight.”
He eyed the rather spindly-looking chair across from me uncertainly.
“Why not get the armchair you were sitting in last night?” I suggested. “If you can drag it in here from the bedchamber, that is?”
“Good idea.”
Sark left the sitting room and came back, holding the large, heavy leather and wood armchair in one hand. I am certain my eyes widened as I watched him handle it as lightly as I myself might hold a book or a teacup. However, it soon became clear that he wasn’t trying to show off.
“Didn’t want to ruin your carpet by dragging it,” he remarked, moving the original chair aside and setting the armchair in its place. “All right—what’s for First Meal?”
“Sweet mush, scrambled figion eggs, strips of crispy flanken meat and mixed fruit. Oh, and blenda berry toast.” I pointed to the platters on the table one by one as I named the dishes.
“Quite a spread,” he growled, looking pleased as he took a plate and began serving himself.
“Yes—it is more than my Nana and I used to have in a week,” I remarked, though why I made such a personal remark, I do not know. Maybe because sitting with my new guard was the first time I had eaten breakfast with a congenial table companion since I had been married.
“Oh?” Sark looked at me, one black eyebrow raised. “So you haven’t always lived this way?” He waved one hand, indicating the luxury of my rooms—the soft minkling fur carpets, the furniture upholstered in fulsom satin and the priceless diamond and crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
I shook my head.
“No, for I grew up in reduced circumstances. My Nana raised me—we never had much to live on because my uncles gamed it all away. They—”
I stopped then, horrified that I had told a complete stranger such private details of my life. But my new guard seemed interested.
“Go on,” he said, spooning some of the sweet mush onto his plate. “Is that how Le’rank got you to Join with him—you were in a bad position and he threw money at you?”
“Something of that nature,” I muttered, picking at my eggs. “He, er, came looking for me because he especially wanted a Moonstone goddess for his wife. He found my Nana and me in rather desperate circumstances.”
“Tell me about that—about being a ‘Moonstone goddess’.” Sark leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in interested concentration. “What does it mean exactly? Is it just a reference to your unusual skin tones?”
“I am hardly the only one at the table with unusual skin tones,” I pointed out, neatly evading his question. “You look rather like a marble statue come to life.”
“Ha—that’s one way to put it.” He nodded, clearly not in the least offended. “It comes from my father’s side—he was what some call a ‘Giant’ Kindred.”
“I suppose that explains your size,” I remarked. “You are certainly very large and, er, muscular.”
He shrugged.
“Goes with the job. I have to stay in shape to be at my best in some pretty dicey situations. I’m a Security Specialist,” he added. “I go around the galaxy protecting important people.”
I knew very well the only reason Baslik considered me important was the fact that I might bear him a son that looked just like him. I wondered how much he had paid the giant to guard me, but of course I couldn’t ask. It would be gauche.
“Who is the most important person you’ve ever protected?” I asked curiously, looking up at him.
“Hmmm, well, that might be my last assignment,” he rumbled, looking thoughtful. “I ran security for Emperor T’raskow of Yanem Two during his coronation.”
“Did you really? How fascinating!” I really meant that—I had never traveled off-planet before. The most I had done was move from the Southern Continent of my own world, where Nana and I had lived, to the Northern Continent, where Baslik’s father, the Prince ruled. “Tell me about it,” I said to him. “What was the coronation like? Was it a grand affair?”