Spear of Destiny James Baldwin (free romance novels .TXT) 📖

chest as the assault intensified. I let her go just enough she could worm away. She rolled over her shoulder and tried to get up in a crouch, but was too close to the edge of the bed to save it. With a squeak of dismay, she overbalanced and tumbled to the floor. Now I was the one laughing as she scrambled up to her feet and danced around, dusting sand off herself and scowling.

“Yeah, laugh it up.” Karalti narrowed her eyes and stuck her lips out at me. “Just you wait. I’ll get you.”

“Sorry, but the Fish Imperium does not negotiate with terrorists.” I sat up and looked over the edge of her side of the bed. “Poor Rudolph has to sweep all this up, you know.”

“Hmmph.” Karalti shook her hair out, raining sand everywhere, and turned her back to me. I couldn’t help but notice the way her vestigial scales tapered down her back to the base of her spine, partly framing her butt. This incredible work of art was suddenly and tragically concealed as she began equipping her armor and gauntlets—exactly what I needed to do, if we were going to start the day.

We found Istvan and Vash in the dining room offside the great hall, where one of the kitchen staff was dishing up dinner. Now that it had been repaired, it actually looked like somewhere I wanted to be. The paneling was fixed, the table polished, the chairs repaired and replaced. As soon as I walked in, my mouth started watering from the mingled smells of lamb, garlic, and butter. The meal for tonight was a kind of dumpling called Khinkali. They were twisted knobs of dough bigger than a golf ball, filled with meat and spices and rich broth that burst in your mouth when you bit into them. There was also a platter of Khachapuri—a large, flat, flaky bread boat full of cheese with an egg cracked on top—plates of assorted picked vegetables, and a dish of dense green sauce I’d never seen before. It looked a lot like spinach and artichoke dip. When I scurried over to it, my HUD highlighted it as [Pikhali: An Eastern Vlachian sauce made from spinach, walnuts and garlic. Commonly eaten with Khachapuri.]

“Mmm. These smell amazing!” Karalti heaped her plate with dumplings, skipping the vegetarian stuff, and nearly ran to the table with her haul. I took a more balanced array of pretty much everything on offer: bright red marinated peppers, eggplant, sharp white sheep’s cheese, and the ever-present csalamádé, mixed pickles with cabbage, cucumbers, and other vegetables. With the pikhali and khachapuri, I had all of the essential Vlachian daily food groups covered: fat, salt, meat, vinegar and cheese.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, you glorious cocksucker.” Vash had his feet up on the table and his pipe in his hand. His plate was already empty. Istvan was still eating, cutting his dumplings up with a knife and fork. “I heard from Istvan—seen here defiling his khinkali by spilling the soup out of them all over his plate for the sake of ‘decency’—that you, Suri, Karalti and Rin managed to somehow secure an alliance with the royalty of Meewhome. Well done.”

“Thanks. And yeah, Istvan? Eating soup dumplings with a knife and fork is now illegal in Myszno.” I picked up one of them and took a bite out of it, sucking the broth out the bottom. Karalti didn’t even bother with that formality: she just shoved the whole thing in her mouth and chewed, her eyes turning dark and glassy with pleasure.

Istvan let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, my lord, I’m sorry you hate civilization.”

“I don’t hate civilization. I just think knives and forks are for Ilian wussies.” I popped the rest of the dumpling in my mouth and grinned at him. “Besides, you’ve been dating Vash for a couple months now. I’d have thought you’d be able to fit more meat into your mouth.”

“HAH!” Vash spluttered with laughter, which turned to coughing as he accidentally inhaled too hard on his pipe. Istvan turned the same color as the roasted pepper I was now smugly spreading over my cheese-egg-bread canoe.

“This is a game for you two, isn’t it?” He looked between us, scowling pointedly at Vash as the monk hacked and coughed.

“Sorry,” Vash croaked, waving his hand in front of his face. “Dying.”

“The Dakhari call that ‘karma’.” Istvan set his knife down, and aggressively forked his next dumpling without cutting it. “Given what you see before you, you might as well ask that same question of Vash, Your Grace. As you can see, he can barely choke anything down.”

Vash wheezed harder.

“Ahh. True love.” I shook my head, pulled the bread apart, and stuffed a big chunk of it in my mouth. “Speaking of true love with or without reproduction, guess what? Cutthroat laid a clutch of eggs.”

Istvan fumbled his fork with a clatter, and his eyes widened in sudden horror. “No.”

“You’re shitting me.” Vash stared at us in naked disbelief.

“Yeah!” Karalti wiggled excitedly in her seat. “Rin said we should throw a baby shower!”

“We figure Payu knocked her up when we weren’t looking. That’s why Suri didn’t return with us. She’s travelling back the long way, taking an airship from Meewhome with Cutthroat. Her darling mommy-to-be decided to lay her clutch in the Captain’s Cabin.”

“In the Captain’s… no. I don’t need to know.” Istvan held up his hands in surrender. “Talking about it will only curse us more.”

“A dozen Cutthroats running around the castle. Burna grant us all peace in our next lives.” Vash made a holy sign over his chest with one hand, then pressed his palms together. “You know, hookwing eggs do taste good. And they’re khunehar. Totally acceptable within religious law.”

Karalti hissed at him. “You leave Cutthroat’s babies alone! They’ll be little and cute and they’ll roll around all