Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Her hand is on her hip, and there’s an offended look on her pretty face. “It’s not going to kill you, Ci.”
I’m pretty sure it won’t. I quickly calculate my odds of surviving Meg’s cookie experiment. I’m confident, when applying the laws of rational deduction, that my odds are in the 99.783% range. Her foot taps impatiently on the floor. I have a 100% chance of pissing off my wife if I don’t eat the damn thing and manage to smile. I shove the cookie in my mouth and gamely chew.
It’s not half bad. “It’s good.”
A wry smile quirks up her lips. “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I never was a very good cook, but I always could bake. I didn’t get these hips from following a low carb diet.”
I would ask her what she means, but I’m eating a second cookie. It’s not good. It’s delicious. I’ve never really liked oats. They taste like paper, but Meggie’s cookie is soft and sweet. I reach for a third.
She pulls the platter back. “Hey, I need those for the goblins. Flanna says they’ve set up camp on the other side of the village in the caves.”
Oh, I know all about the goblins. It was not a surprise when they showed up. In a way, it’s a good thing. They bring trade. The goblins live on the plane and choose to do business with the village, but they’re not here to pay court to the kings and their queen. They are Unseelie. They are potentially very dangerous. “You aren’t meeting the goblins, my lover.”
“Why not? I’ve met everyone else,” Meg points out with a breezy lack of concern.
It’s a huge change from the worried girl I met a few days ago. Meg has settled in nicely. She’s growing in confidence and proving herself a good partner. She’s polite when she needs to be, and she has good instincts as to when a small show of temper is required. Patience and gentleness works with the brownies and gnomes, but I was proud when Meg slapped one of the cave dwarves silly. The dwarf was downright rude about humans being a bit lacking in the brain department. She smacked his hard little head. Sorry, she said with an innocent smile. I’m not smart enough to control my impulses.
The dwarves have all watched their tongues since. It’s now being said that the queen can be viciously brutal when she wants to be. It’s a compliment coming from the dwarves.
I watch the cookies go into a basket. It’s a whole lot of cookies. The goblins might not even like them. My wife certainly won’t be wandering into a goblin cave with her pretty smile and basket of treats. The goblins will just as likely eat her. “The goblins aren’t here to meet you. They come because of all the trade that goes on at gatherings like this.”
Meg looks thoughtful for a moment. “What would goblins trade?”
I love her questions. She’s the most curious woman I’ve ever met. “All manner of things. They tend to scavenge, so you can bet they have items from other planes. If we had anything to trade, I’m sure we could find something to intrigue you. The only thing they make themselves is a strange form of liquor. It’s a brown drink they brew from beans they find in the mountains. It gets goblins drunk, but it just makes me jittery.”
“Because, of course, you have to try goblin moonshine,” Meg says with an affectionate laugh.
I shrug. “If someone tells me it’s liquor, I’ll try it. I didn’t like this stuff, though. It smelled lovely but tasted bitter.”
Her hazel eyes flare and she’s very serious all of the sudden. “Beans from the mountains? Makes you jittery? Would you say it’s an acquired taste?”
“I don’t know who would want to acquire it.” I shake my head as I think about that drink. It’s very bitter and acidic, and the goblins serve it at a scalding temperature. “It makes you jittery if you drink too much, and then it’s like you’re addicted. If you don’t get it, you have a headache.”
“Like the one I’ve had for a freaking week and a half,” Meg snarls. She takes me by the shirt, fisting the fabric in her hands to draw me close. “You will take me to the coffee.”
I feel my eyes widen, and for a moment I wonder if the dwarves haven’t hit it on the head. My queen does, indeed, look a bit vicious. “They don’t call it coffee.”
“I don’t care what they call it,” Meg swears. “I want it. I’m a pot-a-day coffee drinker who’s been without it for weeks now. You will get me that coffee. Do you understand?”
“It’s become my new quest, wife.” I never argue with a woman when she gets that look in her eyes.