Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“That’s Archon-General Darken to you,” I say calmly.
“I had soldiers through my home like ants, searching for drugs!” Her voice reaches the level of a piercing shriek on the word drugs. “They handcuffed me and made me sit on the street!”
There are very few ways to humble and punish a woman like Emmaline, but public humiliation is one very effective method.
“You got my wife high,” I remind her. “Consider yourself fortunate to still have a house. If I ever hear of a single one of your cronies so much as coming near a molecule of Soma again, I’ll have you stripped of your land and titles and sent to the colonies.”
She rounds on me, drawing herself erect, her face a picture of pure female venom. “You wouldn’t dare! We are the backbone of society. You are making an enemy out of me, Arthur.”
She’s a proud woman, but in this case, a stupid one. I am not in the mood to be threatened, and the word enemy has a very particular meaning to an old soldier.
“An apology would have been a better course of action,” I say mildly. “Put her in irons,” I order the guard.
“What? No! What?” She starts to panic, her bodice heaving from outrage.
“You just threatened an Archon-General because you couldn’t swallow your pride and apologize. I have given you more chances than you deserve, and you have not shown me the slightest respect. You will learn some in the colonies.”
“You cannot send me there.”
“Of course I can. They take single women of any age there, even ones past breeding. They need cooks and cleaners to keep the miners healthy and happy. It will be good for you, Emmaline. You will be useful for the first time in your life.”
“Arthur, please!” She insists on using my first name even though I commanded her not to.
I wave a hand, and she is dragged away in dramatic hysterics.
I am left wondering why any person in New Boston would be so foolish as to consider one of my threats idle. My reputation usually precedes me. Then again, some are so arrogant as to consider themselves above the law.
Mila
I woke to yelling and screaming. I tiptoed around the house, until I found the little stairway that goes up to the portrait in Arthur’s office. I have just watched him have Emmaline Carpenter taken away by soldiers. If his threat is to be carried out—and I have no doubt it will be—she has just lost everything for giving me that dose of Soma.
Arthur has had one person killed for disrespecting me, and sent another to the colonies for trying to corrupt me. It is obvious that he is protective to an extreme degree. Anybody who harms me in any way will suffer, that’s the message.
I can only imagine what he will do to me for having partaken in the drug he so loathes. A tremor enters my hands. I feel quite ill, actually.
“Lydia!” I hear him call the guard. She steps into his office. I feel a pang of something. Not quite jealousy. Or maybe it is jealousy, but not of the romantic kind. I am jealous of the way he trusts her, and how much faith he puts in her. She is older than I am, and has clearly proven herself in battle. Whereas I have done nothing but make a repeated fool of myself. I must start to earn his respect.
“You called?”
“Yes, please wake Mila. It’s late and she should have breakfasted by now. The last thing I want is for her to become one of these indolent ladies who indulges in parties all evening and sleeps all day.”
I do not like hearing that, either. He is sending Lydia to me as if she is my nursemaid. I watch her go, feeling very cross indeed—all the way up until I realize that I won’t be in bed when she goes to get me, because I’m here. She’s going to tell him that I’m missing.
“She’s missing from the bed, sir.”
“What?” Arthur rises from behind his desk. I can imagine how furious he will be. He’s already in a bad mood, and I don’t want to get deported.
“I’m not missing! I’m here!”
I try to open the portrait, but the latch is sticky and in the dark I’m still not entirely sure how it works. The culmination of all these factors is that I once again end up tumbling into Arthur’s office, head over heels in the nightgown he must have put on me last night. An abundance of sheer lace does not make this any less of an embarrassing moment as I find myself at the feet of my husband and my bodyguard. It is quite the contest as to which one of them looks more annoyed.
Arthur scoops me up and stands me on my feet. “What are you doing, Mila?”