Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
“The theme must be one of elegant opulence,” Resven said. “Graceful, restrained, tasteful, never ostentatious, yet also not cheap. Nothing vivid like the otrokar’s barbaric decorations. Nothing drab or blood-soaked like those favored by the Holy Anocracy…”
I chanced a quick glance at Miralitt. Her upper lip rose a fraction betraying a glimpse of a fang. Yep, vampire blood.
“Nothing garish. Nothing vulgar. Nothing…”
We stepped into the main ballroom. The floor was a soft cream with just a touch of sheen. The same shade tinted the walls and against that backdrop silver geometric patterns climbed and twisted in a trademark Dominion mosaic, accented with drops of gold and aquamarines in the corners, as if a ghost of luxury had floated by and brushed them with her phantom hand.
Tall windows interrupted the walls, their angles crisp, spilling sunlight into the space. Between them, at a height of ten-feet, square planters dripped vines with leaves carved from pale green chrysoberyl. The vines bore clusters of delicate golden flowers Gertrude Hunt had shaped from pale amber and berries of golden pearls.
At the far end of the chamber a raised rectangular platform rose, accessible by five steps. On the platform stood the spire throne, an asymmetric, ergonomic chair, formed from the same material as the floor and the walls. Strands of gold slipped through it, with flecks of aquamarines winking here and there. The throne looked like it had grown from the chamber itself, an unmovable part of it.
Resven clicked his mouth shut.
“It’s almost as if they know what they are doing,” Miralitt said.
“Domicile of the Sun,” I said.
Sean moved his hand. The floor and walls darkened to a deeper purple blue, bringing the geometric pattern into focus. Astronomical symbols of the Dominion ignited above the throne in pale turquoise. A glowing constellation of nine stars – the replica of the Dominion itself – descended from the ceiling, illuminating the chamber in soft white glow. The massive purple moon of the Capital slipped onto the darkened sky on the left side.
“Domicile of the Moon,” Sean said.
Miralitt clapped quietly. “Respect.”
“You are too kind,” I said and turned to Resven.
The chancellor looked about for a few seconds. His gaze met mine.
“I suppose this will do,” he said.
Sean settled deeper into the couch and stretched his legs, and the inn thoughtfully grew an ottoman under his feet before they had a chance to hit the floor. “Resven is going to be a pain in the ass.”
I slumped on the soft cushions. We were in the small break room we had made off the grand ballroom so we wouldn’t have to walk too far. It was furnished with couches that felt like clouds and I loved them to pieces.
“He manages the entirety of the Capital palace, all 20 million square feet of it. Being a pain in the ass is in his job description.”
My feet hummed. It wasn’t even an ache, it was this odd throbbing vibration. I was so tired.
“I thought the half vampire would stab him,” Sean said and smiled. “That would have been fun to watch.”
“It didn’t even occur to him that she would take offence.” I leaned my head on the back of the couch. “The sislafs are convinced that their genetic material is inherently superior. Not in a bigoted way, but in ‘it will express itself no matter the odds’ way. As long as you have at least 12.5 % sislaf blood, they consider you to be sislaf. The insult half-breed is literally absent from their language. To Resven, Miralitt is a sislaf. Her vampire blood is an asset, but in terms of her loyalties and her place in society, it’s irrelevant. If you tried to argue that she was as much vampire as sislaf, you simply couldn’t make him understand or accept that.”
“The blood runs true sort of thing?”
“More like blood is thicker than water, and to them the blood of all other species is water. You’re right, Resven will be difficult. He’s professionally pedantic, and he hates surprises. As long as we can keep him from being shocked, we will be fine.”
“He’d be a great 1st Sergeant.”
“I’ll take your word for it. What’s the significance of the Temple of Desire?” I gave him some side eye. “How do you know about it? Have you visited the Temple of Desire? Was it everything you hoped, and more?”
He raised his hand, palm toward me.
“I’m sorry, are you telling me to talk to the hand?”
“I’m buying time while my exhausted brain figures out how to explain.”
“I’ll wait.”
The White Rose cluster in Cassiopeia, otherwise known as NGC 7789, adorned the Northern Milky Way. A beautiful open cluster of about three hundred suns, it resembled a rose when viewed from Earth, a white blossom with a yellow border on its petals. It glittered with diverse civilizations, and it was famous for its Temples, with entire moons devoted to the worship of universal aspects. The Temple of Kindness, the Temple of Rage, the Temple of Grief… The Temple of Desire explored exactly that, the urge to obtain something beyond your reach at any cost. Within its walls and gardens, the priests and supplicants pondered the exact nature of desire, whether it was inherently selfish, whether it was just, if it could ever be pure and selfless.