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)
Meev trails after me, a large plas-metal spoon in her hand. "You're going to stand outside? Naked? What if the neighbors see?"
"Then they will see a fine specimen of a praxiian and think to themselves at how lucky you are to be serving me." Undeterred, I fling the door open and step outside.
It's just as awful as I remembered. There are no atmospheric circulators here because there's no environmental dome. This place is wide open, and the air moves gently on its own. Clouds drift overhead and the air smells of animal dung and (even worse) animals. If I look off to one side, I can see a pasture with a handful of meat-stock wandering about. Next to that is a field with neat rows of green crops. Off to the other side, down the hill, I can see the one lane that makes up the “town” here, along with the spaceport that's being built. It's a small spaceport, with each landing pad connected to a tower, and no more than a dozen pads. They clearly don't expect much traffic here.
I cast my despairing gaze along the horizon, and off in the distance I see more farms, dotting rolling hills, and then a much larger building gleaming at the edge of my view. "What's that?" I ask the human, since she's followed me outside.
"That's Lord va'Rin's home. It's pretty fancy compared to everything else." She moves to stand next to me, eyeing me. "If you're looking for civilization, you've come to the wrong place. We're hidden here precisely because no one ever comes to Risda."
That's the point of the plan Zebah hatched with my steward. Hide me here, amidst all the...nothing. Let my brother's coup succeed or fail, and if it fails, return in triumph. If it succeeds, wait a few years for him to run things into the ground, and then return in triumph anyhow.
And all I have to give up is...everything. My wealth. My lifestyle. My plans for the future. My Heirdom.
I fight back a surge of despair and take a deep breath. And cough, because it smells like dung.
"You know you're still naked, right? Anyone that walks past will see cat dong."
"Praxiian," I correct idly. "I am praxiian, just like you are human, not an ape-man."
That makes her pause. "Fair enough. Sorry if I was being insulting."
"You didn't know." But it does seem as if Meev can learn, even if she's fairly unpleasant. I close my eyes, feeling the sunlight on my fur. That part is not too bad, I suppose. "You will have to go into town tomorrow and acquire proper clothes for me, or else I will remain naked."
"Why is it that when you say shit like that, it sounds like blackmail?"
"Does it?"
"It does. How about you put on your clothes that you showed up in and suck it up?"
I shake my head. Even now, the memory makes my balls feel like they're being compressed against the seams. "It was uncomfortable. If you can't find a tailor that has off-the-rack gear..." I trail off, horrified by my own words. "...then see if one will come out to your farm."
"And tell him I have a praxiian visiting?" She crosses her arms over her chest. "How do you think that's going to go?"
Kef. Not well. I'm supposed to be in hiding. "There are bound to be praxiians working on the docks, yes? Purchase their clothes if you must. I just need something that fits." I gesture at my genitals. "In this area."
"Go up to strangers and demand to buy their clothing?"
"Yes. Tell them you have a fetish if you must, but just get me clothes."
She puts her hands on her face and drags them down her cheeks, as if her face is melting, and makes a whimpering sound of self-pity.
I know just how she feels. I, too, want to whimper in self-pity, but this is the path I've chosen for now. I comb my fingers through my chest fur—and a horrid snarl locks my claws in place.
Disaster. "I believe I'm going to need help combing, Meev. Your inferior products have destroyed the softness of my fur and it's going to take hours to get it all looking proper once more."
She makes the face-melting expression again. "Why me? Whyyyyyy?"
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
MAEVE
Zhur isn't wrong. Detangling his kitty-coat does take hours.
It's a ridiculous amount of work. He has to be brushed all over, and apparently back home he had “body servants” that knew just how to comb him. I do it wrong. I do it all wrong, according to him, and he won't shut up about it. His mane is completely snarled, and the comb won't go through any of his fur without catching on a tangle. Zhur rants about the “poor quality” of my bathing products and the even “poorer” quality of my serving him. I try to ignore this. I comb his back and some of one arm and then I guess I pull too hard, because he rips the comb from my grip and snarls at me.