Page 27 of Ren: Warlord Brides
“Interesting, but let us pretend that this is not a Rolusdreus drama where everyone dies at the end,” he replied.
“Those are the only good ones. The others are dull. Too much standing around discussing sand.”
“Sand is a metaphor. Have you no culture?” He knew he should not have watched a classic Rolusdreus drama with Havik. The male missed the point of the story.
As it happened, Ren did not need the armor after all.
Chapter 6
Emry
She could always use poison.
No. Poisoning her boss would be wrong. Sort of.
Emry leaned against the galley kitchen’s long counter, every available surface in use, and could not believe she had to convince herself that poisoning her boss was wrong.
Even if Pashaal had it coming.
Sure, a contract was a contract, but Ren offered to pay twice the contract’s worth. Emry lurked around to eavesdrop on their conversation and was stunned at Pashaal’s refusal to sell her contract. Emry had only worked for Pashaal for a few months, but other staff told her when she arrived that the only thing Pashaal loved more than herself was money. Sure, Pashaal talked a good game about loyalty and frequently lavished her employees with gifts, but they were all to make herself appear generous and wealthy.
So why hold on to Emry’s contract? She didn’t believe Pashaal’s thin excuse of it being too difficult to hire staff while traveling. Pashaal’s ship cycled through staff constantly, whether docked or in transit.
If Pashaal wouldn’t let Emry go, then clearly, she needed to be poisoned.
Or maybe just impaired. Beyond the fact that Emry had little practical knowledge of poison beyond old mystery novels, poisoning her food was just an insult to her profession. Emry had never served tainted food or given anyone food poisoning, and she wasn’t about to start.
Recreational drugs? She had no idea where to start. A space station that saw lots of traffic seemed a likely place. Lots of people needing to stay awake. Lots of people looking for a good time or to take the edge off. Still, she had no idea where to start other than to awkwardly ask,“Do you know where I could purchase some drugs? Not for me. For my boss.”
Nope. Not happening.
Alcohol?
There was an idea. Pashaal moderated her drinking while she plied her guests with glass after glass, then took advantage of them at the card table.
It would be unethical to double the amount of booze in the evening’s cocktails.
Pashaal entered the kitchen and surveyed the trays ready to be served. “Wonderful. So appetizing, but you are not wearing your costume.”
Emry stood up straight, aware that her hair needed to be brushed and put back into order. While she didn’t appreciate Pashaal referring to her chef’s coat as a costume, she understood her meaning. Emry needed to be dressed to impress and could do with a shower too before the guests arrived.
“With the heat malfunctioning, I didn’t want to ruin it with sweat,” she said.
Pashaal wrinkled her nose. “Yes. That is good thinking. Make sure you have enough time to make yourself presentable. Appearances matter.” She paused, scrutinizing Emry. “You should wear something special. An ornament, I think.”
“That’s really not practical. Jewelry catches—”
“Nonsense. I will lay out a selection in my cabin. Take your pick,” Pashaal said, already out the door.
So jewelry isn’t up for discussion.
Emry finished in the kitchen before making herself presentable. A cold shower helped clear her mind, and she found a tray of trinkets on Pashaal’s bureau.
Rings were a hard pass. Nothing took off fingers like getting a ring caught on something hot and sharp. Bracelets? No. Long, dangling chain necklaces?
Emry selected a choker with a black onyx pendant short enough to not get in the way when she worked.
Until recently, Emry hadn’t questioned Pashaal’s extravagant spending or conspicuous consumption. She hadn’t questioned the guests who needed to be wined and dined or the need for discretion. If the business deals were shady, Emry was paid not to care.
