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)
I sigh, rubbing a hand over my whiskers, and glance over at my guard. "I'm going to take a shower."
He touches a hand to his weapons belt. "If you call in staff to help you, I'll need to check them over for contraband."
"I can bathe myself," I tell him. It's another way that things are different, I suppose. The thought of having several people around me, fussing with my mane and picking out my clothing, feels exhausting instead of being a relief.
Once I've washed and fixed my mane in a decent—if unpleasantly short—style, I dress in simple, dark clothing. I loved colors and silks before, but I don't want to call attention to myself any more than I have to.
Tomorrow is Remrrrtel's wedding to the strange human female, and there's enough going on that the focus can remain on them and not me. Hopefully. I adjust the cuffs of my long-sleeved tunic, putting on a pair of simple bracers, and my most austere belt. As I pull on my boots, I glance over at my silent guard. He stares straight ahead, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
"Is there a crowd downstairs in the dining hall?"
The guard looks over at me in surprise, as if he's startled that I'm speaking to him. "I...yes, Heir Zhurrrvas." He pauses. "...or should that be Former Heir Zhurrrvas?"
"Kef if I know. This is new territory for me, too."
He almost breaks into a smile and then clears his throat, his face straightening. "There is a crowd in the dining hall, yes, Your...Excellency?" He seems satisfied with the modified title and continues. "The final guests are arriving for the wedding."
It's been a strange week. The wedding was delayed by several days so documents could be drawn up, the details of my abdication spelled out in legalese in thirty different ways. Every scenario in which I could try to take hold of power again has been addressed and argued over by lawyers on both my side and my brother's. No one seems to believe me when I tell them that I'm tired and I have no interest in claiming the throne back. That I want to live my life quietly somewhere pleasant with a nice view.
It makes sense. Prior to my retreat from Praxii Minor, I wouldn't have had those words coming out of my mouth.
"And how are people's moods? What is the feel in the air?"
The guard looks stricken, as if I've asked him something he cannot—or dare not—answer. "Your Excellency...I am certain the mood is just as it should be."
"So no one's shitting themselves that my brother's marrying a human? I find that hard to believe."
He gives me another blank stare, and I can practically see the panic on his face. So no one is thrilled, but everyone is being far too polite to say so. It's damned odd for Rem to make this the one thing he puts his foot down upon, but who knows what sort of bug has bit my brother. Maybe this human female told him she wants to be his consort. Maybe she's withholding favors.
Maybe she has the softest shoulder, perfect for nuzzling. Strangely, I get it.
"Your Excellency, may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
The look on his face—Maeve would call it constipated—grows deeper. "Why are you addressing me?"
Why? I shrug. "I wanted to know what people were thinking about the wedding and my reappearance. You must be new, eh?"
The chagrin on his face is painful to see. "I have worked security for your family for twenty years."
"...oh."
"I have been on private guard detail since you took the throne. You have never once addressed me."
"Ah." Well, kef, Maeve would give me hell for this, wouldn't she? "I've learned a lot about myself in the last while. I'm working on becoming a different person."
"Is that why you are...passing the throne to your brother, Your Excellency?" His tone is delicate.
Sure, we can call it “passing the throne.” It sounds so casual, like I decided one day I had enough roast at dinner and am passing the plate along to my brother. But I give the poor guard a reprieve, since he's clearly uncomfortable. "Something like that. I've been without direction for a long time, and I hope to find myself once I no longer have to worry about the planet, if that makes sense."
"It does." He pauses and then adds, "Your Excellency."
Ugh. "Call me Zhur."
"I...cannot."
No, I suppose he can't. I picture Maeve calling me Lord Hairball with that chin-in-the-air way of hers, and my heart aches a little. "Just say 'sir' then. I am not feeling particularly excellent lately."
"Sir," he agrees, nodding. "I am Mrrrkuss."
I'm going to remember it this time, I tell myself. "Mrrrkuss. Thank you for your loyalty."
There's a knock at the door to my suite and then someone charges in. It's Ubagrrresh, my father's advisor and my former vizier. His whiskers are twitching, and his ears are flat with misery. "Lord Zhurrrvas, there you are. We have a problem."