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 stroke my whiskers as I pace, thinking.
Maeve appears in the doorway, a robe draped around her naked form. She leans against the doorjamb and watches me, a thoughtful expression on her face. "You want to talk about it?"
"I cannot." The less she knows about me, the better. It is the only way to keep her safe. As long as she remains an ignorant human, they will treat her as such and not as a co-conspirator. I scrub a hand over my face, trying to clear my expression. I even manage a smile. "My apologies. Where were we?"
She arches a brow. "I just told you that some praxiian noble is getting married and you lost your mind. Exactly what part of politics were you in, Zhur?"
"No politics," I say quickly. "You are mistaken."
"Bullshit." She crosses her arms under her breasts. "You're a terrible liar, Zhur. I don't know how you've made it this far with that kind of poker face, but you really need to practice your fibbing. You're clearly involved. You know the prince? Or the bride?"
I backtrack a bit, trying to throw her off. "Doubtful. As you said, not every praxiian knows each other."
But her suspicious gaze remains locked on me. "You know the prince, don't you? You're freaking out about some prince marrying. Most people wouldn't give two craps if royals got married, because they're so outside of our realm. But you're involved in some way, aren't you? So spit it out or I'm going to keep guessing."
I cannot say. I will never say. Maeve has taken me in. She has been kind, and a good friend to me. I have so little left, I can at least defend this small bit of information. "Do not ask me."
She ignores what I say. "You've mentioned before that you're used to servants and you've never been in a kitchen. That means pampering at extreme levels. So...are you related to him? The prince? Is that why you're in hiding?"
Kef. So much for keeping secrets.
CHAPTER
SEVENTY-TWO
MAEVE
I may not be the smartest woman on Risda III, but I can definitely pick up on clues. I haven't pushed about Zhur's past because it was clear that he didn't want to talk about it, and it didn't really matter. But now that he's losing his mind over the supposed upcoming wedding of a nameless praxiian prince, I started to put things together.
And when he shoots me the guiltiest look ever, I know that I'm right.
"You are related to this prince," I point out.
"I shouldn't talk about it, Maeve—"
I wave a hand in the air, cutting him off. "We're past that point. If you know what's going on, you need to tell me. I don't want to be surprised."
He paces again, shaking his head. "Not telling you keeps you safe—"
"Oh, bullshit. We all know I'm the equivalent of a pet dog to your people. You can tell me whatever, and if anyone shows up and tries to shake me down, I'll put a stupid look on my face and talk about my hair and my clothes and they'll give up." I push his concerns aside, stepping toward him. "Now spit it out. Who's this prince and what's he to you?"
Still, Zhur hesitates.
"I can go to the comm system and start looking things up," I warn him. I haven't used it because my little code sheet for “which button to press equals this human character” makes everything long and annoying to type out, and deciphering the results is equally unfun. It takes hours to get any kind of information. But I'll do it if I have to.
Zhur slumps, his shoulders heavy as if with a sudden weight. "Don't. Don't type my name in. They're probably looking for mentions of me from far-flung places and it could lead them to this planet."
A chill skitters up my spine. "Okay, I won't, but you have to tell me what's going on. I deserve to know that much. We're connected now, you and I."
He strokes his whiskers in that nervous way of his, continuing to pace back and forth in my tiny living room. I can practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tries to decide whether or not to tell me the truth.
"I should have used a false name. In my arrogance, I didn't think things through. I thought it was enough that I was here on this planet, where no praxiian in his right mind would be." Zhur puts his hands to his brow and then rakes them both through his hair, turning it into a wild cluster of cowlicks. "I wasn't thinking anything through, honestly. It just happened so fast and I was so certain of who I was and so indignant that my brother would move against me—"
"Your brother?" I interrupt. "Who's your brother?"
He turns to look at me. "My brother is—well, this brother is Remrrrtel. Rem. Second in line for the Heirdom of Praxii Minor."