Forbidden Planet by Cheree Alsop

Author:Cheree Alsop [Alsop, Cheree]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

KOVE

“Time for cigars and Eccian brandy,” Lord Favreau announced after dinner.

A thrill of nerves ran through me even though Kaj had warned that the men would retire to the library and leave the women to their sitting room. Dancing was one thing. The steps were similar enough to fighting as Jashu Blu had predicted that I picked them up with ease; on the other hand, casual conversation regarding lordly matters wasn’t something even the stern butler could teach me. He had hoped that I could get through it either by keeping silent or sticking to topics I knew, but I doubted any of the lords cared about how to maintain the sharpness of a blade or the exact angle required for maximum lethality when stabbing upward beneath the ribs.

A servant walked around with goblets of the green iced drinks while Lord Favreau and the others chose places to sit and talk within the surprisingly warm, open library. Others perused the books along the extensive shelves and enjoyed a cigar or two. I made it a point not to stay in one place too long. Fortunately, several of the gentlemen chose to drift around the room like a faelan gathering nectar from one beautiful flower to the next. It was easy to glean the topic of conversation this way before delving in fully.

“I do have to say that the new Blavarian bylaws have made the import of pash silk nearly impossible. By the time you’ve obtained the proper permits and paid the taxes, you’re better off trading with the outliers,” one gray-haired man was saying to a pointed-eared Canoid.

The Canoid nodded solemnly in return. “I’ve found that it pays to add a little extra meteor dust to the transaction. If you pad the right pockets, you can skip the permits altogether.”

“Really?” the first man exclaimed. “You don’t say! Who is your contact?”

I found my attention stolen away by the animated talking of a man with long yellow hair whose stripes on his skin told of either Vexian or Fyrstine ancestry.

“So I said to her, lady, if you don’t accept my marks, I’m going to have to report you to the Tributaires.”

“What did she do?” another man asked.

Everyone leaned forward to hear the punchline.

The Fyrstine, clear now due to the man’s matching yellow tongue, grinned. “She was going to argue, but then I told her about my title and she said, ‘Anything for you, my Lord.’”

He burst into laughter and the other men followed. I forced a half-chuckle before my attention was caught by a pair of raised voices.

Earlier, the individuals had been busy discussing the terraforming rights of a newly opened planet in the Navarian Star System. But with the amount of brandy both had imbibed, the conversation had become heated during my tour of the other groups.

“I don’t agree. If the planet has oxygen and has already been proven to grow maroon Verian beans, what’s the problem?” a young man with dark gray skin asked. He folded his arms and glared at the man across from him, his yellow eyes begging for a fight.

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