Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
I turned my eyes from my glass to the crowd that was also being served wine from servant boys who held trays laden with glasses. They were milling about, looking for their assigned seats, but also not surreptitiously watching me.
It was the first time, in this elegant room with its circular tables inlaid on top with tiny, square mother-of-pearl tiles that had mirrored trays filled with lit, red candles, tall poofs of exquisite red roses bunched close together in vases, and large silver chargers and gleaming silverware at each place setting, that I realized that Firenze was not the Firenze of Catrame Palace and the cosmopolitan Fire City.
It was the Firenze we’d traveled through to get there.
It was the Firenze of tales told through Triton.
The lines of camels, horses and people of the nomadic tribes trekking over the dunes.
The tent cities mixed with adobe buildings and open store fronts filled with lanterns, bright pots, bushels of grains, baskets of spices, fruits or vegetables, woven rugs, wicker wares (and the like), bustling with people.
It was tall, large, pierced, fierce men who wore leather kilts or short sarongs with thick belts at their waists which carried ornamented daggers. These were worn with fine shirts and mantles at their shoulders that went down to the backs of their knees.
And it was exotic, beautiful, lush women wearing bead and sequin and jewel-encrusted finery and sheers that exposed more than they covered, gold chains or elaborate pins or lavish flowers in their hair, dripping in jewelry and pierced magnificently, with large, dark eyes that spoke more than words could say.
It was a land that clashed with violent conflict amongst themselves.
A land that but decades ago was considered savage.
It was not mine.
It was not of me.
And I was being told, if not through deed, but instead by look, I did not belong there.
Definitely not at the side of their king.
I took a sip of wine on this troubling thought, my mind consumed with what I could do to change theirs.
My wedding gown was fabulous.
But it wouldn’t win the love of an entire country.
Further, I had little time. I would be wed the next day. Mars and I had but a few days together (and I had a feeling that time would be busy, something I didn’t think about or it would be unnerving as well as stimulating, neither of which I could focus on in the now).
This would be only two days before we were away on the long journey to Wodell to see Farah and True wed. Only for us to travel to Airen after that.
And who knew what could happen in the months their king and new queen, one not all supported, the other they didn’t approve of, were away.
My mind was so consumed with these thoughts, when the curious feeling in the pit of my belly changed with no warning to something more extreme, I gasped.
“Silence?” Mars, hearing my gasp, called my name.
I put my wine down, composed my expression, and looked up to him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I just thought of something I need to be sure to remember for the morrow,” I lied.
He studied my face.
I hated lying but I didn’t need to get into a discussion about suddenly feeling like something was burning through my stomach with Mars, who would be concerned, possibly in the extreme, maybe whisking me away to see to me, when I could absolutely not be whisked away in front of his people.
I certainly would not win this lot by being faint and queasy, unable to sit through even a dinner under their notice.
“Should I send a servant to share with your woman what you don’t wish to forget?” Mars offered.
And that was my intended.
I might have a much bigger challenge on my hands for my future than I let the thrill of discovery of a fabulous palace, an exciting city and a handsome man I’d come to care about strongly in a short period of time blind me to the fullness of it.
But at least I had Mars.
So I gave him a smile. “It is such I won’t again forget, Mars.”
“Good,” he murmured, leaned to me, touched his mouth to mine, and I allowed it because I liked the feel, his closeness, the spicy scent he had that night and the tickle of his beard.
I was smiling again, wider this time, when he pulled away.
His eyes twinkled as he took it in, and he turned to his wine.
I reached to mine as well, just when the burning came back.
Stronger this time.
But also, this time, I felt something else.
I turned my head left and saw Farah leaning forward, her gaze on me.
Nearly the instant I saw her, Ha-Lah leaned forward.
She looked to Farah, then to me.
After she caught my eyes, Ha-Lah looked beyond me.
I turned my head that way and Elena was leaned forward, her attention moving between all of us.