Chapter 13 book 3 is live
Targets:
That night, Harsin idly swirled the brandy in his snifter; Affton had sent a few bottles of the 914 Leuteplum to the Middlemont cellars, and he made a mental note to have Winmer send the butler some small token of thanks. He took a long sip of the brandy and studied Twenna. She was the picture of the womanly arts, sitting demurely at the spinet; she was quite a competent musician, he thought, and looked so charming in the lamplight. Her evening dress was cut just to above scandal, and the rose-colored silk of her dress temptingly framed her white bosom and shoulders. He glanced at the timepiece on the mantel and absently counted the minutes until he could decently close the night’s festivities and get that dress off her.
Scattered around the room were the members of tonight’s dinner party, four of Harsin’s close friends and their own mistresses. Elbig Shelstone was not among them; he was not invited. Harsin didn’t know where the oily little man was and didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t here; he had agents watching any move Shelstone made outside the house, and the Middlemont staff were vigilant on his behalf within it. Twenna looked up from her music and smiled at him adoringly; he raised his snifter and returned the smile. He needed this relaxing evening, in the warmth of a worshipful mistress and the company of good friends.
Meanwhile, Elbig fumed in his study. Snubbed in his own house! It was almost unbearable. The entire point of giving his wife to the king was to gain the king’s ear! Instead, he found himself completely cut off from the source of power he so desperately needed to access, for his sponsor was back and bringing pressure to bear on him.
That night, Harsin idly swirled the brandy in his snifter; Affton had sent a few bottles of the 914 Leuteplum to the Middlemont cellars, and he made a mental note to have Winmer send the butler some small token of thanks. He took a long sip of the brandy and studied Twenna. She was the picture of the womanly arts, sitting demurely at the spinet; she was quite a competent musician, he thought, and looked so charming in the lamplight. Her evening dress was cut just to above scandal, and the rose-colored silk of her dress temptingly framed her white bosom and shoulders. He glanced at the timepiece on the mantel and absently counted the minutes until he could decently close the night’s festivities and get that dress off her.
Scattered around the room were the members of tonight’s dinner party, four of Harsin’s close friends and their own mistresses. Elbig Shelstone was not among them; he was not invited. Harsin didn’t know where the oily little man was and didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t here; he had agents watching any move Shelstone made outside the house, and the Middlemont staff were vigilant on his behalf within it. Twenna looked up from her music and smiled at him adoringly; he raised his snifter and returned the smile. He needed this relaxing evening, in the warmth of a worshipful mistress and the company of good friends.
Meanwhile, Elbig fumed in his study. Snubbed in his own house! It was almost unbearable. The entire point of giving his wife to the king was to gain the king’s ear! Instead, he found himself completely cut off from the source of power he so desperately needed to access, for his sponsor was back and bringing pressure to bear on him.
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