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)
This sounds really crappy and I feel a twinge of pity for him. No wonder he doesn't know how to be a normal person. He's had a rotating cast of frenemies about him at all times and nothing to care for except his appearance. Poor Zhur. He must really feel lost now. I reach out and pat his hand before he can continue to dab at my skin. "I'm good now, really. It's a tiny scratch and so small I doubt it will scar."
"A scar is possible?" Zhur frowns down at my shoulder. "I do not like that at all. Your skin is so smooth and unmarred. I do not like being the one that marked you." His thumb rubs across my arm.
Goosebumps prickle. "Yes, well, like I said, I doubt it'll scar. And thanks? For the compliment?"
He gazes down at me and another piece of hay flutters in the air between us.
"You know what will make us feel better?" I say brightly. "Breakfast. There's a lovely sort of spice they like on this planet and it goes great with meat and this thick flatbread I can whip up on the griddle. It's kind of a cross between a sour pancake and a tortilla, but it tastes better than that. And with the spices? It's almost like having curry back home."
"I do not know what that is." He swats at the hay wafting through the air. "I need to clean myself or I will track filth all over your house."
"You can clean up after breakfast. Come on. This won't take long." I pull my shirt back up to cover my shoulder and get to my feet. "Besides, I can use the company in the kitchen."
I expect him to nag and bitch about me talking too much, but he follows me without a word of protest. I put on a kettle of night tea, telling him all about the Earth equivalents of coffee and English breakfast tea. Then, I pull out the tub of spices and toss a hefty scoop into the pan, adding water to make a slurry. "I know it looks like a lot of spice, but they've got a really mild flavor."
He picks up the container of orange-yellow spices and holds it up, his whiskers twitching. "And you like the taste of this?"
"Yes! Some of the supplies we get here are weather-dependent and cyclical. I remember one month the storms were bad and so the suppliers were slow to come back. It was butcher a cow myself or eat dried food, so I learned how to make the dried food tasty." I give him a little grimace. "I'm still not quite ready to butcher my own cows. City girl, remember?"
"I remember." He sets the spices down. "So how is it you handle that?"
"I grow them and make sure they're happy and healthy, and then someone shows up in the spring and offers me credits for all the non-pregnant ones, and I don't look them in the eye when I send them off, because then I can imagine they're heading off to some hay planet where they live their best lives."
"So you are pretending."
"Hell yeah I am." I toss a package of dried meat flakes into the pan of slurry atop the stove. "This side of the universe doesn't like it if you have a soft heart, so I'm doing my best to harden up, one step at a time."
Doesn't mean I didn't cry for three days after sending my cattle off to slaughter, but he doesn't need to know that.
It's quiet in the kitchen between us, the only sound that of the food bubbling and sizzling in the skillet. I glance over at him and he's watching me with a curious expression on his face. He reaches out and touches the hand I have resting on the counter. "Maeve—"
There's a knock at the door.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
ZHUR
Maeve is so soft and gentle that it pains me.
Sure, she tries to hide it with her big words and making me sleep in the barn, but the truth is slowly seeping out from between her actions. And the reality is that she is a sweet spirit who feels too much. Truly, I am lucky that I have landed in her clutches, though a larger part of me thinks I should call her a fool.
An even larger part of me thinks she needs to be protected from the universe before it breaks that sweet spirit of hers. I am thinking that perhaps I should leave her behind for her sake. It cannot be safe to be friends with a male on the run from a coup. I should find someone who has no weaknesses, no soft side to be taken advantage of. "Maeve—"
There is a knock at the door.
She frowns, looking over at the door, and sets down the big wooden utensil she is using to stir the food. "That's weird. No one ever comes here."