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)
“They’re so good,” Elizabeth says, dropping another one into my palm, which I guess I stuck out, oops. “Edward gives me so many treats. I can’t even tell you. I get everything I want.”
I don’t get anything I want. I haven’t even thought about asking for anything, except this time with Lizzie. I bet I don’t get allowed to do this again. I bet Lydia will tell him and he’ll say I can’t be trusted and I’ll be locked up in that big fortress with a thousand soldiers keeping me guard.
The idea is dramatic and I know if it happens, that I’ll have brought it on myself, but at the same time, I deserve to live a little.
“Here,” Lizzie says. “Drink this.”
I take the flask she’s offering me and have a little sip. Bubbles dance over my tongue and a delicious flavor runs down my throat.
“Mmm, what is this? I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”
“I don’t know. I call it bubbly,” she says. “It’s so good.”
“Bubbly is a good word for it.”
The two of us sit and nibble the treats and drink the bubbly and have a lovely fine afternoon together. I find myself forgetting my worries. I find myself actually forgetting that I ever had worries at all.
I’ve almost entirely forgotten how we ended up in our little bushy hideaway when I am grabbed roughly by the fabric at the back of my neck, scruffed up like some errant kitten.
“You’re going to come with me,” Lydia says coldly. “Elizabeth, I have contacted your husband. He has a car waiting for you out front.”
Lizzie looks at me, horrified. “What are you doing? Let her go!”
“Worry about yourself,” Lydia says. “The two of you have caused a scene.”
“How? By talking? What’s your problem?”
Lizzie is coming to my defense very sweetly, but I know it won’t do anything. I can feel the tension in Lydia’s grip. She’s angry. I’ve obviously caused her a great deal of trouble today. I hope I cause her even more.
“Go!” she orders, using a very military tone. She can be quite imposing, and though Lizzie wants to help me, her courage runs out at about the same time Lydia takes a step toward her. Neither one of us Angelish girls are a match for her. It’s a great pity, and an even greater shame.
Elizabeth scurries off in her finery, and I resign myself to the fact that this absolutely scandalous encounter is going to cause me shame until the end of time. Lydia is trying to push me toward the exit, and I cannot help but resist her.
I go limp in her hands. There’s no way I’d ever let her take me anywhere. I’m not going to make this easy. I’m not even going to make this faintly dignified. If she wants to manhandle me, she can.
When I do that, she counters it easily by just picking me up and throwing me over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. The indignity of the whole affair is growing by the moment. I can’t win, no matter what I do. I am carried out of the gardens, past the candy seller. He smiles and waves at Lydia. He has my money, which I don’t love, but I suppose he could only distract her for so long.
“You deserve to be beaten,” Lydia mutters. “Absolutely spoiled brat.”
We get to the car and she drops me into the backseat unceremoniously. I almost curse at her, but I manage to restrain myself because I am not that uncouth a person. I might be acting out somewhat, I suppose, but even I draw a line every now and then.
She gets in beside me, and the soldier at the wheel starts driving the vehicle back home. Lydia turns to look at me with ferocious eyes.
“When the Archon-General sees you, you’re going to…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, because I am giggling. I can’t help it. I want to, but suddenly I’m absolutely overwhelmed with the urge to laugh. There’s something awfully funny about all of this.
“You’re high again,” she accuses me.
“I am not. I didn’t snort anything.”
“That is not the only way someone can get high. You know that.”
“How would I know that?”
She gives me a long, hard look, then says nothing.
“Am I going to need to carry you upstairs?” She asks the question when we are home.
“Of course not,” I say. “I can walk.”
I want to present the most cool and collected version of myself to Arthur. I know she’s probably already told him what I’ve done. But really, I haven’t done anything. She lost track of me because a hot guy talked to her.
I walk in the front door to find Arthur waiting for me in the foyer. It looks as though he has been pacing back and forth, because he rounds on me as I walk in, his powerful body turning toward me. God, he’s tall. Everybody here is tall, come to think of it.