I try not to wince. At some point, I should tell her that you’re supposed to unwrap it from the crinkly, delicate paper each cake is wrapped in. She’s eating the entire thing, which is sure to make Ahiri and her cohorts titter.
A servant brings me food and drink, bowing in front of me, his tray too high for Milly to reach. I clear my throat and when he looks up, I tilt my head, silently indicating that the food and drink is for her. The mortified servant stoops, holding the tray as Milly picks at the food, then stuffs it into her hands and pops another crinkling cake into her mouth.
I make my way to the table emblazoned with my house symbol and seat myself at the head. I should be mingling with the other lords, letting them cozy up to me for approval or favors, and gathering information on those not here…but I don’t have the interest. I’m far more interested in the female at my side.
I sit, and Milly hesitates, swallowing hard. “Should I sit on the ground, uh, master? I’m guessing I shouldn’t sit in one of the chairs.”
She’s astute. The chairs are only provided for nobility. Even so, I don’t like the thought of her sitting at my feet like some sort of pet. Milly hovers awkwardly at my side, then starts to sink to the floor.
“No,” I say, stopping her. I look at one of the hovering servants. “Bring her a stool.”
A moment later, a footstool is brought and Milly sits down gratefully, oblivious to the fact that I’ve just shown her great favor by letting her sit at my side instead of a few steps behind me. I glance around the room and sure enough, the other lords and ladies have their heads together, whispering, and the only ones not staring at us are the dancers in the middle of the floor.
And for some reason, I’m enjoying myself. I take a glass of farhis wine when a servant offers it and get one for Milly as well. She takes the glass and sips, then makes a dreadful face, and my mouth twitches with amusement.
“That sip you just took cost hundreds of credits,” I murmur, lifting my glass.
“I hear water is free,” she mock-whispers to me. “And it tastes much better.”
I bite back a grin. She’s not afraid to speak her mind. Refreshing. I watch her as she stares around us, her gaze on the dancers as she eats more of the dainty cakes that are meant to be sampled, not gorged upon. Her face is lit up with wonder, her pink tongue stealing out to lick an icing-smudged fingertip and my cock grows hard at the sight.
“What do you think?” I eventually ask, unable to ignore her.
“Of the party?” She looks around and then leans toward me. “I think I’m the only human here and I probably shouldn’t be here at this party with you, judging from the stares everyone’s sending our way.”
I nod slowly. “Probably not, but it is too late for such things now.”
“Me at your side is like having a big wine stain on your sleeve, isn’t it?” Milly questions.
“Worse,” I say, and then take another sip of the fine farhis. “Two wine stains.”
She snort-giggles, the sound loud and uncouth and utterly full of amusement, and I’m completely charmed. I’m fascinated by this cake-devouring, giggle-snorting delicate creature. Lady dra’Niiron is probably furious, but I find I don’t care. Let her focus her mating hopes on some other lord. I don’t have to look for Ahiri to know she’s pouting in a corner somewhere, telling others about my “penchant for disgusting alien flesh.” It will be all over gossip circles tomorrow, and the talk of the rest of this too-long keffing party.
For the first time in a very long time, I don’t care, either. I look over at Milly, who’s licking her thumb, her eyes going wide as the troupe of dancers performs an acrobatic spin. She could have been terrified of me, of this place, of the party. Instead, she sits at my side, talks to me as if she’s allowed such a thing, and eats heartily whereas Lady dra’Niiron would not let herself be seen putting anything but wine near her mouth.
I’m fascinated by the human. She’s the breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed.
Some time later, I notice Milly has stopped eating cakes and has returned to drinking the farhis wine. She grimaces with each swallow but drinks with such determination I immediately know what she’s thinking.
She’s preparing to serve me as she would have served Lord As’bro—in bed. And she wants to be drunk for it.
I get to my feet. “Come, little Milly. It is time for us to retire.”
“Right.” She jumps to her feet, smoothing her skirts nervously, and wobbles. She blinks slowly several times, then nods as if to herself. “I’m good. I’m good.”