The Fall by Christie Meierz Read Free Book Online Page B

rolled it between his palms. Then, eyes dilating and darkening with lust, he rubbed the oil on his hands onto the skin of her neck.
    She had never been so wanton in all her life.
    Later, when the effects of the leaf wore off, the Paran burrowed into the blankets, mumbling, more asleep than awake. He had somehow managed to remain civilized. Perhaps experience had accustomed him to the fast and business-like nature of leaf-inspired tumbles. If that was how it would be with him and... a woman seeking an heir from him... she might almost be able to tolerate the idea.
    Almost.
    Sleep caught her unawares while thinking that over, and when she woke, Tolar’s orange sun hung halfway up the morning sky. She sprawled alone across his sleeping mat, on top of the blankets, with a small sheet of creamy paper near her face, folded once. It opened to disclose a brief invitation to walk in the city outskirts with the Paran, written in neat and precise English lettering.
    The city. She winced. She’d survived a journey through the heart of a dozen cities across half the planet. Surely she could manage a walk through the periphery of one.
    A loud grumble from her midsection broke into her reverie. Snorting a little, she hauled herself into the bathing area to get clean and start her day. The refectory would be mostly deserted by now, and deserted meant peaceful.
    Servants moved about the refectory, cleaning, when she walked in. A figure in an indigo robe—her language tutor, Kellandin—sat staring at something in his hands, at a table near the kitchens, where trays of food still sat out. She grabbed one and headed to his table. He sipped at his tea and nodded.
    Tea. With Tolari, it was always tea. She’d kill for a cup of coffee, with milk and just a touch of that wonderful boosted cardamom from New China World—
    “ I greet you ,” Kellandin said, in Paranian. His brown eyes glinted with the mischief suddenly coloring his presence. Like the Paran, he had a face more interesting than handsome and a cheerful expression. He differed, however, in his deep-set eyes, straight brows and nose, and lips a little on the thin side.
    “Good morning,” she replied, in English.
    He laughed, a rich rumble, and switched languages. “If you want to improve, you must practice.”
    “I’ve tried, but then I spent weeks in Suralia. Most of what I managed to learn is fuzzy now. I don’t have the talent for it, Kellandin. I wish you and the Paran would realize that and just give me a language implant. I’m tired of working so hard for so little, only to lose it the moment I stop paying attention.”
    His brows knitted. “We will have to determine how much you have lost in so short a time.”
    Her gust of a sigh blew stray hairs off her face. “If you like.”
    “Try a little longer, artist,” he said, in a softer voice. “The more you can learn, the more quickly an implant will integrate.”
    “There’s not much else I can do but try.” She pulled one corner of her mouth sideways. “The Paran said he’d take me for a walk in the city later. I’ll do my best to pay attention and practice.”
    * * *
    Five camouflaged guards fanned out ahead of them. Five more trailed behind. The Paran appeared unconcerned, but then, under attack he was far more dangerous than any of his guards. He’d been trained to kill with his bare hands. They hadn’t.
    Laura could detect a sort of collective good will, as she and the Paran strolled up from a transport tunnel in the outer edge of the city, but nothing else. The fierce glow around her made it difficult to separate out individuals, but no lurking intruders with nefarious intent tickled her senses—not that she expected any.
    A cool breeze blew in off the ocean, carrying a different tang than the seas of Earth. Buildings of pale stone, roofed with something resembling slate, lined the avenue they walked. Most looked like artisan shops and trade-houses. Farther down, a musician sat in a doorway, playing a