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)
“Murderous bitch,” Gallienus bit out.
But Cass had no time for his father or Serena.
Serena’s lieutenants trailed her, and Elena was now in front of Silence, saying something to the girl.
Her daughter was not with her.
Silence’s expression was openly friendly as she replied.
When she did, Elena smiled at her, and Cassius noted that her affect was entirely different than her mother’s, or her sister’s. Unguarded, sociable, informal.
She tipped her head to the side at Mars before dipping her chin deferentially, which Cassius found a surprise.
Nadirii did not bow.
Even in rare times of accord between realms, princess or mere sister, definitely not the queen, they did not bow.
What she gave Mars was not a bow, as such.
But it was the closest thing Cass had seen from any Nadirii.
At least to a man.
She moved to him and Cass felt a sudden burn in his gut when her gaze did as well.
By the gods, her eyes were…violet.
And they were roaming over his face in a way that seemed…hungry.
He fought shifting in his seat again.
“Princess Elena,” he murmured, watching her move with an economy of grace that was the feminine version of the way any good warrior would use his body.
“Prince Cassius,” she murmured in reply, her voice quiet, but surprisingly melodic, considering her sister’s was lower and always held an unattractive vein of spiked steel.
Her attention went to his father, and although she looked him dead in the eye, there was no deferential tip to her chin.
Though she gave that to Aramus and Ha-Lah.
As she rounded Aramus’s chair, Cassius turned his attention to her lieutenants, both of whom trailed slowly and had passed him, but were looking back, ignoring Gallienus, and openly studying Cass.
Not a surprise for it was definite all his men at his back had done the same to Elena and were doing it now to her guard.
Once the Nadirii delegation had disappeared in the tent, with no fanfare, Mars rose from his seat, taking Silence from hers beside him with her hand held in his.
He guided her around his chair and walked back to the tent.
Queen Elpis followed them.
“He could let his elders precede him,” Gallienus complained, rising from his seat.
“And if it were me who had assumed the throne prematurely, and his father was still alive, and they were in Airen, would you wish me to allow Ares to precede me?”
Gallienus shot him a scowl before flicking his cloak back and stomping around his seat, his guard following.
Cassius rose, glancing at Aramus, who was guiding Ha-Lah to the tent, but his gaze was on Cass.
He was grinning broadly.
Cass did not feel like grinning, so he simply shook his head at his friend.
He then moved around his seat and his men surrounded him.
“Well—” Mac, of course, was the first to attempt to start in.
“Quiet,” Cass bit.
He caught the men casting glances at each other before he focused on the stairs to the tent and moved that way.
His lost wife, Liviana, had auburn hair that she went to great lengths to tame, but it remained wild.
Their daughter had this same mane.
Liviana was also not tall, nor was she short.
Though their daughter was showing all signs she would be tall, like Cassius.
Liviana further had an overabundance of curves, a soft belly, full arse and thighs, and was feminine in all ways. Not to mention, having a mother who was Dellish, staunchly so, Liviana would blush simply exposing an ankle.
She would never wear garments that bared her upper thighs and seemed designed to draw the eye to tits and pussy, completely comfortable and in tune with her body, including having it on display.
And she’d had no idea even how to feed a bow, much less could split the shaft of an arrow at a gallop on the back of a horse.
By all the gods, even Cass couldn’t do that.
Indeed, Liv grew timid just being on a horse, making her mount dance, before she found her bearing and was able to ride, though only sedately.
And she would drop due to vapors at the very thought of racing around an arena, or anywhere, like she was competing with the very wind.
And winning.
Soundly.
These thoughts plaguing his mind, he strode down the steps, through the tent flaps that were held open by servants, and when the young boy came to him immediately, he grunted, “Whiskey.”
“Sì, signore,” the boy mumbled and dashed off.
“Cassius! Here!” his father bellowed from his place in the middle of the crowded tent where he appeared to be attempting to hold court in a land where he had no courtiers to dance attendance.
And he’d decided not to bring any of his wives so they could perform that duty.
Therefore (likely due to habit, the man did it so bloody often), he wished to make his son dance.
Hearing his men order their own drinks around him, Cass muttered to any one of them who might be listening, “When was the last case of royal patricide in Airen?”