The Last Narkoy: Gathow: Book 2 by Elizabeth Price (find a book to read txt) 📕

“Garric?” she mentioned. He frowned, turning away to keep from showing his frustrations. She knew how much he hated her servant. Garric was the one who ordered his sister, Asa, to her death. “How the hell do you know Qilo?” Sedom barked.

“Zion was my sister’s bodyguard and… I’m fairly certain they were romantically involved at one point. Anyone who knew Zion knew my sister.”

“And would presumably know you, got it. So, do I trust this Rasadan Rosanheer Torreh?” Sedom asked straight, knowing Jasper would never sugarcoat his response.

“Any man I trust with my life, I’d vouch for. Just a word of warning, he turned his back on his people and his family. He may have been right to do so, but nevertheless. Don’t forget that,” he mentioned.

Sedom agreed. “Thanks. And we’ll talk later about Terilan Tro. I’m a little short-staffed at the moment. I may need your assistance after all,” she mentioned.

“Call me, day or night. I’m sending you my private line in case I’m not near my office,” he offered. “I have to go. Take care.”

The screen blanked, sending back a blackened image of herself. She rubbed her neck, trying to motivate herself to stand. Her arms and her legs ached and she wasn’t certain why. She flexed her arm over her head, trying to loosen her muscles. As she did, her shirt sleeve split.

“What the…” she felt to the rip, perplexed by why the fabric gave way. Was it faulty fabric? Were the replicators not producing quality clothing? Had she snagged her sleeve on something and didn’t notice?

Regardless of what happened, it didn’t really matter. She changed her top, only to find the new one a bit tighter than before. She took it off and tried another top. The same thing happened to the other top. “Huh.” She stretched her arms back and forth, attempting to loosen the top. The new top split down the back. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking. What is going on?”

“Chadon?” Garric called from the living room.

“Why are all my tops so tight?” she yelled to him. “None of them are fitting.”

Garric stood by her bedroom door. “You’re probably going through a growth spurt,” he mentioned. “I’ll replicate you a size larger and see if that helps. I’ll be right back.” He took her top and hurried out the door to fetch a larger one.

Meanwhile, Sedom paced anxiously in her living room wearing only her undershirt, which barely covered her chest. “Growth spurt?”

“Um-hum,” spoke a voice from her com screen.

Sedom spun around, mortified to see Rokaa on the screen. “I hope you weren’t talking to the Braum dressed like that. I might become jealous,” he mentioned.

She snatched her jacket, wrapping it around her and zipping it tight. “You could have given me a little warning.”

“And miss the show?” He jabbed back. Sedom glared at him. “Sorry. I heard you talking to Jasper, and I thought I’d call and see how you were. Naked, so it seems.”

“Ha, ha. No, I split my top. Garric went to fetch me a larger one,” she explained.

“Too much good food?” he accused.

She unzipped her jacket, revealing her firm six-pack abs. “Hardly. I guess I’m just growing,” she huffed. “How are you doing?”

Rokaa shrugged. “I’m surrounded by twenty guards all the time, my family wants me dead and I’m stuck on an alien world who worships Narkoy,” he stated.

“So, not bad, hum?” She jabbed back. Behind her, she could hear Garric returning with her top. “I’ll call you later. I have to go talk to a man about a punching bag.”

“Oh… okay. You are loved,” Rokaa returned slightly confused.

“You too.” She hung up and then spun around, grabbing the top before Garric could offer it to her. “Heck of a time to start growing.”

“I’ve ordered ten more, just in case. Should I order pants as well?” Garric called into her bedroom.

“Good idea, thanks,” she called back. “Don’t wait up.” She rushed out the front door before Garric could get out another word.

Inside the cafeteria, Sedom found Rosanheer eating late meal alongside Zion. He glanced at Sedom with a smirk.

“One of these days you should sleep. It will age you staying awake all the time.” Zion pulled out a chair for Sedom to sit.

Sedom accepted the seat. “Good. Even an infant knows that only the exciting stuff happens when you're asleep. Why miss out?” she joked, knowing full well that wasn't the case.

“I'm not sure what to make of you. You are an odd one, Sortec,” Rosanheer smirked back.

“I guess that's a compliment. When you're done, come find me. We need to talk,” Sedom said, almost as an order, but not with quite that much authority.

Zion rose from his seat, taking his tray. “Talk now. I'm leaving.”

As Zion left, Sedom turned her attention to Rosanheer. “So, Rasadan, you do realize the last man who came in here with a title like that is now wearing a collar around his neck? Mind telling me your story before I force one on you?”

Rosanheer didn't flinch, just kept eating. “Rasadan Garric Soogal. I thought he looked familiar.” He offered Sedom half of his sandwich. She gladly accepted. “Story time, hum?” He sighed, leaning back. “Let's see, where to start. My father was a high-ranking officer with the Marisheio. My mother was obviously not his wife since I'm half Zalmin. High-ranking military officers were only allowed to marry their own kind, but I was the only boy born of nine children. He accepted me as his full-blood heir and sent me to the best military academy one could afford. I was taught to be the perfect warrior and for a while I made my father truly proud of me. I joined the Marisheio straight out the academy and moved up the ranks