Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
CHAPTER
NINETY-FOUR
ZHUR
Not know what I want? Me? I scoff at Nassakth's words. "Of course I know what I want."
He tilts his head at me, regarding me with a knowing look that I have seen on Uba's face, when he doesn't believe me. "Say it aloud, then. Speak what you want."
"I want my throne back. I want to be Heir again."
Nassakth gestures at me with a casual hand. "And your plan?"
Heat pricks my ears. "I haven't given it much thought yet. I've been too busy."
He arches a brow at me. "Too busy to regain your throne?"
It sounds foolish, even to my own ears. What could be more important than regaining my throne? My seat of government? Don't I care about the people that have been more or less conquered by my brother? Don't I want to ensure their safety? As Heir, it is my duty to tend to the needs of the people of Praxii Minor, and yet I have not given one thought to reclaiming my throne, other than to keep quiet, keep my fur orange, and to wait.
It...does not seem like much of a plan.
I am also not used to confronting my own failings. I straighten my shoulders and give Nassakth—the great, mighty Nassakth—my most haughty Heir expression. "You are trying to shame me, but I have no coin, no credits, no supplies. I was robbed the moment I fled Praxii Minor. One cannot reclaim one's throne without credits."
Nassakth's brows go up and he heads for the door, indicating that I should follow him. "You are Heir Zhurrrvas of Praxii Minor, the rightful ruler and claimant to the throne. You think you will need coin? You simply need to sling your name around. People will flock to your banner in the hopes of favors when you regain the throne. Someone is always willing to take a risk and toss the sticks in your name. You know this."
I follow him down the hall, toward the front of the house again. He picks up the sad plant that we brought, cradling it in his large hands, and carries it to an adjacent room full of plants and windows. An attached greenhouse of some kind. The air here is humid, the plants thick, and there is a large table set up with pots and tools. Nassakth takes the plant to the table and leans over it, carefully studying the roots. Then he looks at me, expectant.
My ears go flat. I know he wants me to admit that he is right, that I could get a banner full of mercenaries and bounty hunters and soldiers of fortune, and all I have to do is toss my name around and offer them riches and business contracts in exchange for their assistance. He is not wrong. I haven't done it because...
Well...
I just haven't done it. It hasn't felt like the right time. Perhaps I am waiting for a sign of some kind. Perhaps I don't want to risk my life for my title. "What do you want me to say?"
Nassakth shrugs, dusting loose dirt off the roots of the plant. He tsks and spritzes them with a misting bottle on the corner of the table. "I just want you to tell me your plan. You had a plan to come here and meet me, yes? To abuse this poor plant and show up on my doorstep so you can get a good look at me. Yet you have no plan to retake the throne of Praxii Minor?"
I scowl. "Fine. I admit it. I have no plan."
"And yet you want to be Heir again? Be honest with yourself, if not me."
My jaw clenches and I watch as he sprays the roots down with some sort of greenish liquid. It should be the easiest thing in the universe to tell him that he has misunderstood me. That I am crafting a plan to retake my throne, because I want nothing more than to be the ruler of my people. To go back to my busy life full of meetings and advisors and early mornings and never having a moment to myself because I am important and necessary for everything. That I hold the lives of millions of praxiians in the palm of my hand and that they look to me to rule them properly and take care of them.
My shoulders sink with the weight of that imaginary mantle and I feel...smothered.
CHAPTER
NINETY-FIVE
ZHUR
It is staggering to realize that I don't necessarily want my throne back.
I should, of course. It has been taken from me, stolen away by my brother. The throne—and the title—made me the most important person on Praxii Minor and on several other planets. As Heir, I am celebrated, revered, and in command. I can demand anything and everything I want...
Except peace and quiet.
Except sleeping in.
Except someone treating me like a normal person and not like the Heir.