Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“What do your fancy lords normally do with humans?” I ask innocently. I can guess, but I’m also hoping I’m just a little bit wrong. Maybe they just want buddies. Maybe they want someone to walk their pet poodles. Something nice and benign.
His lip curls in my direction and he stares at my cleavage.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” I mutter, hiking my dress higher.
“Do you need to bathe?” he asks. “I can’t smell anything over the stink of you.”
I stink? I resist the urge to sniff my own armpit. “I just washed last night—”
“That’s fine, then.” He leads me down a hall. “If he calls for adult company tonight we’ll make sure you’re freshly washed, but for cleaning boots, I suppose you’ll do.” He heads into a small room with stacked cots and a bunch of high-tech-looking computer stuff along one wall. Before I can peer too closely at the technology, though, he thrusts a folded set of laundry into my hands. “Change into this. It’s the smallest size we have. I’ll wait out here for you.”
He closes the door before I can ask anything else.
I eye the beds in the room but don’t prod the computers. This feels a bit like someone’s private chambers—or a hotel room—and I wouldn’t want to intrude on anyone’s privacy. I quickly shimmy out of my pretty—if scratchy—dress and put on the soft tunic. To my delight, it has fasteners that move with a touch, and a belt that fits itself to my waist, making the fit perfect. Once I’m in the blousy, loose pantaloons and the tunic top, I fold my expensive dress as best I can and then open the door again.
The other servant is there, with a pair of fabric slippers in his hand that look twice as big as my feet. He frowns at the sight. “This won’t do.”
“I’ll take them,” I say, before he can snatch them up. “It beats bare feet. I’m Milly, by the way.” I’ve already introduced myself, but maybe he wasn’t listening? “What’s your name?”
“Aldar,” he says, and produces a metallic-looking ring. “You’re also probably going to need one of these.”
The ring looks too big to be a bracelet but too small to be a belt. “Um, what is it?”
“A tracking collar for slaves.”
I swallow hard. “Oh.” I glance up. Aldar isn’t wearing one.
“Before you ask, yes, it has a built-in alert to the premises. If you try to leave, it’ll shock you.”
For the first time since I arrived, I feel like crying. A slave collar. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” I say dully. “Nowhere at all. My home is light years away.”
If I’m expecting sympathy, Aldar has none. He makes an impatient face at me. “I don’t know what a light year is and I’m not even going to ask. Just get the collar on and let’s get you to work. Can you operate a cooking droid?”
I try not to flinch as he takes the collar from my hands, impatiently turns me around with rough hands, and snaps it on my neck. It slithers tight to fit, and I swallow hard, touching it. I’m a slave. Property. A leashed dog. “A cooking droid? I…um, know how to work a stove. Kinda.”
Aldar makes another impatient noise. “We’ll find you something to do. Just sit here and wait like a good girl.”
Well, now I feel even more like a dog.
I’m in the middle of shining a huge, oversized boot with some gunky concoction when a horned, blue woman rushes into the servants’ quarters. She makes a high-pitched sound of panic in her throat, grabbing everyone’s attention. Her gaze is frantic as she looks around the room, wringing her hands. “Where is it?”
“Where is what?” Aldar asks, frowning as he steps forward. I’ve learned in the few hours that I’ve been here that Aldar is in charge of the blue-garbed servants—of which I am one—and he doesn’t like for anyone to sit around and look bored. “What’s the problem, Nima?”
“Lord va’Rin,” she pants, her hand trembling as she presses it to her chest. “He—he wants his human. He found out she wasn’t in his bed and he’s furious. I’ve never seen him so upset.”
I didn’t think it was possible for a blue-skinned guy to turn pale, but Aldar looks rather sickly. He immediately turns to me, his gaze steely.
“What?” I ask, holding up the boot in my hands. “I’m just doing what you told me to do.”
“There she is,” Nima yelps, rushing forward. “Oh, keffing hells, she’s covered in boot black. He’s going to lose his mind—”
“Nima!” Aldar barks. “Such language is unbecoming of a servant of Lord va’Rin, the first in his house! Mind your tongue!”
Nima licks her fingers and wipes at a smudge on my cheek I didn’t realize was there.
“Get up,” Aldar says to me, snatching the boot from my hands. “Come. If he wants you, we need to get you up there.”