Protecting His Mistress - Evangeline Anderson Page 0,18

as everywhere in the mansion, Lady Mirabella’s vast wealth was on display.

All of the plates and eating utensils were solid platinum. The crystal goblets were actually diamond, Karn realized, after one of the girls knocked one over with a swish of her dress and it chipped the marble floor rather than shattering.

The wine in the solid gold serving ewers had the faintest scent of Elysium spice which meant it had to be a vintage from the bubble grape fields of Zinzu Tertia. The planet was renowned for wines that cost so much a single sip would buy an entire home on most other worlds.

Lady Mirabella seemed eager to please—trying too hard, Karn thought—to impress her important guests. He knew she had only recently been appointed to the Sacred Seven and that she was at a social disadvantage because she lived outside Opulex rather than inside the city itself. But was this obscene display of wealth really necessary?

“Now, I have two separate tables so the grownups can talk business while the youngsters socialize,” she said, fluttering around the tables to show everyone their seats—even though there were already gold and silver engraved name cards at every seat. “You girls enjoy yourselves,” she told the daughters of her friends. “And Lilli, be a gracious hostess,” she added sharply to her own daughter. “You must sit at the head of the table and make certain everyone has enough to drink and that conversation flows smoothly.”

Karn saw Lilli’s face go pale but she nodded obediently and tried to smile.

“Yes, Mother. Um, shall we all sit down?” she said, speaking to Priss and Yulla and the twins, Beelie and Bodie.

“I suppose if we must.” Priss, the tall thin girl with sharp features and big blue eyes threw herself into a chair at the head of the table—which happened to be the place where Lilli’s name card was positioned.

Lilli cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Um, Priss? I think you’re in my seat,” she said. “Not that I care about that kind of thing but Mother gets so upset—”

“She’ll get over it.” Picking up the gold and silver engraved name card with Lilli’s name on it, Priss tossed it to her left. “You can sit there, Lilliana—I’m not moving,” she announced.

Lilli looked like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what she could do to change the situation without sounding rude.

It was Priss who was being fucking rude, Karn thought, a low growl rising in his throat. But there was nothing he could do about it. He—like the other bodyslaves standing around the table—was only there to serve his Mistress. If someone attacked her with direct force, he could intervene. But he couldn’t do a damn thing about the rich bitch girls at the table being snarky.

Lilli took the seat Priss had indicated as graciously as she could while Yulla and Beelie and Bodi settled at their places as well.

“Well?” Priss swiveled her head around to look at her bodyslave—a male with a fierce ruff of tangor fur encircling his neck, just below the collar. “I’m thirsty! Why are you not pouring my wine, H’rare?”

Casually, she picked up the remote to his pain collar—which she wore dangling on a diamond chain around her neck—and pointed it at her bodyslave. She gave it a quick press and the hapless H’rare stiffened suddenly as though someone had shocked him.

The next moment his body relaxed and he quickly took an ewer of the expensive wine and poured it into his Mistress’s diamond goblet where it fizzed and popped as large bubbles rose from the bottom of the glass to the top.

“That’s better.” Priss picked up the goblet and brought it to her nose. She took a long sniff and then narrowed her eyes at her bodyslave.

“H’rare, is this wine alcoholic?”

“I…I’m sure I don’t know, my Lady,” H’rare said uncertainly. “I simply poured it because you said you were thirsty.”

“Actually, it does have alcohol in it,” Lilli volunteered. “It’s bubble wine from Zinzu Tertia. Mother says it’s the best.”

“Did you hear that, H’rare?” Priss asked, still speaking to her bodyslave and ignoring Lilli. “It is alcoholic. Come here.”

“Yes, Mistress?” H’rare bent down, a wince on his face as though he was anticipating another shock from his pain collar.

But instead of using her remote, Priss threw the full glass of dark purple wine right in his face. The bodyslave stiffened but didn’t move as the fizzing purple liquid ran down his cheeks.

“H’rare,” Priss said to him. “You know I’m expecting right now. What