Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Nalla sniffled. “Oh, mahmen, I love you.”
“And I love you, my daughter. You’re everything I’d hoped for, and you and Nate are going to have a wonderful future together.” Bella took a bracing inhale. “Okay, let’s go. Let’s go to your party. Maybe if we’re lucky, your father will sing for us all.”
Linking arms, they stepped out of Nalla’s bedroom together.
“He’s gonna pick a song that makes everybody cry,” Nalla muttered. “He always does that.”
“Fritz will make sure there’s Kleenex. That doggen always comes prepared.”
* * *
Two hours later, Fritz Perlmutter was fretting over the buffet.
The gathering had proceeded most satisfactorily, with his master, the First Family, and the Black Dagger Brotherhood arriving at the prescribed time, along with the other fighters and members of the inner circle, who brought their mates and young as appropriate, the lot of them all filling out the circular room with a critical mass that guaranteed a convivial and cheerful atmosphere.
But verily, he wished they were all back in the mansion.
It was not that he objected to the simple, modern furnishings, although of course, one wished to provide a bit of splash to things, and CorningWare was not Royal Crown Derby.
The problem was that the guests stayed within the confines of the room. For the entire duration.
Back up at the mansion, following the dessert course, all and sundry would proceed into the billiards room. That vast expanse of green felt tables, leather sofas, and the TV—which Fritz really didn’t approve of, honestly, as the flashing lights of it were garish and the content was mostly absurd, especially when the sire Lassiter had upon his palm the remote—as well as the serve-yourself bar—of which he also did not really approve, but one needed to bear up—provided not only the square footage but also the amusements, for the household and guests to be well occupied.
Such that the food could be cleared before it wilted, the plates, sterling, and glassware cleaned, and the staff then freed up to attend to other duties.
Here? The guests all stayed put.
Casting his eyes across the males and females, he caught the worried gaze of his two best maids. They had leaned around the doorway into the commercial kitchen that was off to the left. All he could do was shake his head: Not yet.
Their stares flared with the same kind of worry that consumed his own heart, but there was naught to do. As much as he hated inefficiency, he had no choice, for the only thing more intolerable than a decaying buffet was servers clearing platters and punch bowls through a party.
He needed to wait.
Tugging his jacket sleeves down, he clasped his hands behind his back and regarded his master’s guests.
It would have been difficult for him to determine exactly when he began to notice their faces, but soon he did. The younger generation had cloistered together around the couple of the hour, Nalla and Nate, whose collective radiance was like a hearth that moved about the gathering, pausing to warm all whom they sought out.
’Twas lovely to see them so in love, not only for their sakes, but because surely this meant that there would soon be cause for a proper mating ceremony, something that they had not had for ages. If he was lucky, the King would order him to open the big house upon the mountain once again, and that would require weeks and weeks of cleaning and preparation before one even considered the necessaries of the occasion itself.
’Lo, he was atwitter just upon the contemplation of such efforts. And as he thought about such happy future endeavors, he searched out his master—and there Wrath was, with his dog at his side and his shellan under his arm.
For a moment, Fritz found himself, once again, back at the door he had opened that had changed everything, the one that had ruined decades.
Though the outcome of it all had been a miracle, the blame was still with him. And it would stay with him. For thirty years, there had been no matings, because of him. No en masse celebrations of the calendar or festival observances. No true happiness or joy. Just a funeral in the Tomb, where those who should not have been in such a sacred place had been welcomed by the Brotherhood because they had all lost their—
Wrath’s head turned sharply, those black wraparound sunglasses pointing in Fritz’s direction.
As if the great Blind King could read into his loyal servant’s mind and see the torment that had bubbled to the fore.
That regal head shook back and forth—sternly—a command that was nonverbal, but that nonetheless traveled through the laughter and the conversation, through the bodies as they moved through the space… through the time that had been lost.
Fritz took a deep breath. And let it go.
For who was he to disregard an order from his beloved master?