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)
"Yippee." I eye the food hungrily and try not to get impatient. "You have my schedule. Do I get to see Milly today at least? I want to talk to her and tell her thank you." And explain that she's probably not getting her dress back.
Sanassa reviews the list and then brightens. "You get a brief window of time with her after your supervised time with Heiress Leah."
I open my eyes wide. "Wait, what? I get to meet Leah finally?"
Sanassa nods and points at the plas-list. "Says right here. It also says heavily supervised and it's emphasized twice." She glances up at me. "Heir Remrrrtel is being very cautious with the two of you."
"Indeedy." I know why, too. It's because I keep saying Leah doesn't want to marry him. Zhur told me that his brother was not keen on listening to reason when it comes to Leah and their marriage. That his brother nearly lost his shit when Zhur suggested that he let her go.
I'd almost say that he's in love, except Rem's a throne-stealing dick and a half, and Leah sent that SOS. So that's not it. Is he just obsessed, then? Or is there some sort of play I'm unaware of? I ponder this as Sanassa talks with my maids and I stand up for another dress fitting (no one's asked me a thing about whether or not I like the dress). Then I'm allowed to eat. I chew through my meat tray quickly, trying to come up with a plan for Leah.
We're going to be heavily supervised, but we'll need to talk. More Morse code, perhaps? I don't think I know any of it other than SOS. I don't speak other languages, either. My high school Spanish is muy rusty so that won't be helpful, and they can probably translate Spanish anyhow.
So how are we going to talk? How will I find out what's really going on with Leah so I can see if she needs my help? Folded notes like we used to pass in high school? Knock-knock jokes? Limericks?
Then I come up with the perfect answer just as a guard enters the room, followed by a half-dozen more guards.
"Heiress Leah, Princess of Earth, is here to bestow the radiance of her presence upon you," the guard intones, and then steps aside so the human woman can enter.
Princess of Earth? The fuck? But I can't get distracted by that. I get to my feet to greet Leah, and as I do, I employ my top secret method of speaking to her so we can communicate in private.
Pig Latin.
"I'm lad-glay to eet-may ou-yay," I say to my fellow human in slow, halting (probably bad) pig latin. "Ets-lay alk-tay in ivate-pray."
CHAPTER
ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX
MAEVE
Leah seems smaller in person than she did in the vids. The woman standing in front of me is wearing a flowing, off-the-shoulder dress in a deep maroon shade, the fabric shimmering with small silvery vines and flowers all over it. A jeweled heavy collar adorns her throat, and her many bracelets clink and chime as she steps into the room. Even her hair is covered in riches—strands of jewels and charms are spiderwebbed all over a high bun and a long rope with a glinting crystal at the end swings free halfway down her back.
It all looks like too much for one person to wear, like she's been encrusted in a casing of finery. Her face is devoid of makeup and seems pale and washed-out against all of her trappings.
She gestures at one of her guards and he brings out a folding stool, snapping it into place with a flourish and setting it on the floor. Another person rushes forward with a cushion and places it upon the stool, and then someone helps Leah with her skirts and jewelry as she seats herself—oh so carefully—upon the stool.
Then, Leah clasps her hands and looks at me, expectant. She hasn't responded to my pig latin.
A second guard comes with a stool for me, placing it directly across from hers. Again, a cushion is placed atop it and then one of my guards steps forward, indicating I should sit. Oh, sure. Because this is a totally normal sort of meeting, I think sarcastically.
But I sit down and lean forward, eyeing Leah.
"You peak-say er, English-ay?" Man, pig latin is an absolute beat down. I'm already tired of it. "So we can peak-say ivately-pray?"
"There's no need," Leah says, her voice gentle and delicate and ever so slightly tired. "We can talk freely. I have nothing to hide."
Nothing to hide? "You blinked an SOS," I say, confused. "I saw it. That's why I wanted to talk to you."
She nods. Her hands are twitchy and she plucks at a bead on one sleeve before linking her fingers together again. "I did, but a lot has happened since then and I no longer need rescuing."