Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
The high prince was right. A leader could make or break a team.
“I didn’t know your mother is a grower,” I told him. The fact that his parents were married blew my mind. With an astronomical marriage tax, few couples took the plunge. My parents certainly hadn’t. Plus, most people were afraid of creating permanent ties in case either party broke with the Madness.
“Ah. You assume his wife is my mother,” was his response as he straightened, his posture as rigid as the rest of him.
Oops. I had. The heat in my cheeks reached the blistering point. At least he’d sounded amused by my blunder.
Before I could stumble out an apology, the king moved the conversation along, saying, “I’ll leave you to your meeting. Be Cured, Lady Roosa.”
“Be Cured, King Dolion.”
He gave his son’s shoulder another pat before striding from the room. The door shut behind him, but gravity didn’t right itself.
Rather than refocus on the sole other occupant, I occupied myself with a study of his spacious office. It was as luxurious as the rest of the palace portion of the building. The walls, though, were gold, not crystal. A conference table with legs carved to resemble those of a lion complemented four chairs reminiscent of the animal’s head. But there were no personal items anywhere. No doodads on the desk. No portraits, photos, or holograms providing a peek into the HP’s favorite people, places, or things. No plants.
“You need flowers,” I stated before I could think better of it. “And plants. Lots of plants.”
“Agreed.”
“If you have access to soil and seed, I’m happy to grow them for you.” I made the offer and experienced instant speaker’s remorse. I did not need to be shut inside his office with him on the daily.
“I called you here for a reason, Bubble Gum.” He acted as if I hadn’t spoken, a specialty of all higher-ups, and I didn’t know whether I should be relieved or offended. “Let’s get to it.”
Right. I inwardly cringed. “Go ahead. I’m ready to do my penance.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, and the sight confused me. “Your prize is there.” He pointed to a platter of desserts on the table, near a large jug with the word Lemonade scripted on a label.
So lemonade was a drink! And oh, my mouth watered. But, um, did the HP know about the code word I shared with Shiloh?
“Why give me a prize and not—oooh!” Because I’d smacked him in the face. Giddy, I bobbed up and down on my heels. “What about my punishment? Aren’t I supposed to shed fear?”
“The loss of free time is the punishment, not the shedding of fear. That is a mercy on my part and something you should value.” He strode past me to lift the plate of desserts, each seeming to feature apples and figs. “Which one will you sample first?”
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I examined the offerings with a sharper eye. “This one, please.” Yes, I slurred my words. No, I didn’t care.
I plucked the creation from obscurity. Anticipation spiked into enthusiasm as I popped the little morsel into my mouth. Oh, my goodness. The sweetness! Juice ran over my taste buds, and I moaned. “I knew I’d love these.” Live without them? Never again.
“They have become a favorite of mine as well,” the HP said, his voice low and thick. “A prize worthy of a throbbing lip.”
Tingles slipped over my spine, and I jerked my gaze to him. Surely he hadn’t meant to sound so carnal. Or maybe he had. Daaaang. He looked carnal, too, his eyes hooded.
I swallowed and dabbed my tongue to the corners of my mouth.
He pulled his gaze from me, set the plate on the table, and busied himself with a stack of papers. I hurried to refocus as well, choosing a second pastry. My eyelids slid shut as new flavors exploded on my tongue. I could do nothing but savor the honey-dipped heaven.
When I remembered where I was, why I was there, and who I was with, I inwardly cringed. Oops. Should I, perhaps, attempt to converse while I stuffed my face?
No need. He took over. “Use the supplies to list your fears. All of them,” he commanded. “I don’t care if the list is a thousand pages long, leave nothing out.” He was back to using his firmest tone. “Do not leave this office until you finish.” He strode off without another word.
Oookay. He definitely hadn’t flirted with me earlier, even for a millisecond. Anyway. The urge to snoop around proved strong, but I didn’t give in. For my “punishment,” I must only list my fears? What, did he think the length would humiliate me?
Joke’s on you, HP.
Whistling under my breath, I poured myself some lemonade and got comfortable at the table. The first sip of the yellow liquid proved as world changing as the sweet treats. Tart yet sugary and my new favorite beverage. I drained the rest and nearly overflowed my cup with my next pour. In between guzzling, I finished off the remaining treats, loving every bite but the last. I admit, I pouted.