Page 1 of Inceptive (Ingenious #3)

1

ZACH

T he sun dipped low behind Zach as he walked through the swinging doors of the Wild Pony Saloon. Someone had scrawled SOLD OUT across the auction banner on the window, but he only had two coins in his pocket, so what did it matter if he’d missed the servant auction?

Zach just wanted a drink without someone jabbering his ear off. Hopefully, his tight-lipped expression would send the message. If not, the blue-striped overalls, sweat-stained undershirt, and wide-brimmed straw hat of a swamp basin farmer would warn them off. His kind was renowned as strong, fearless, and accustomed to harsh conditions.

Patrons seated at the crowded tables quickly swung their legs out of his path to the bar on the side of the room.

Any of the men glowering at him could’ve been part of the gang that had attacked and robbed his cousin, Riley, in an alley yesterday. At six-eight, Zach was accustomed to gawking looks. What he searched for were guilty eyes sliding away from his gaze.

A pair of unsmiling bouncers in black vests leaned on each end of the long bar and gripped the batons on their belts. They would be no match for Zach’s meaty fists.

By the age of twelve, he’d already been the size of a full-grown man and still growing. With big feet and hands, he’d been a lanky misfit among the stocky townspeople. That same year, he’d lost his temper and swung at a classmate for calling him dumb as a tree. Zach’s pa had whipped him good, but after, he’d told Zach that if he hated name-calling and learning, he should drop out of school and let the town pay him to clear a patch of the swamp in the basin. If his acres yielded a crop, Fort Hope would give him the title to those acres. And besides, had he swung harder and hit the classmate in the jaw as he’d intended, the town would’ve sentenced him to a season in the basin without pay.

His pa had reckoned one season farming the swamp would drain the fight out of him, and Zach would finish school and work in his father’s woodcarving shop.

Instead, Zach had taken to farming like a duckling to water. His lean body grew taller and filled out with hard muscle. For every five swampy acres cleared and cultivated, he’d earned a vote in the meeting hall, along with the title to those acres. However, his votes were inactive, and after bachelor taxes, most of the profits of his farms went into a trust fund until he married or turned twenty-five.

Those bachelor taxes encouraged men to marry by nineteen, but the law gave a wife control of her husband’s land votes. Though women controlled the council, and men controlled the profits, everyone voted on important issues, and the outcome was generally harmonious and prosperous.

When Zach turned twenty-five in two months, he would have controlled enough votes to become Fort Hope’s first male mayor in centuries. He wouldn’t have needed the council’s approval on any of his proposals because the new acres he’d already cleared and planted for the coming season would have given him the controlling majority to send any proposal to public voting. The catch was he had to live on his newest farm through the rainy season to claim those new acres.

Mayor Astrid fumed at the idea of losing her title to him and questioned why he balked at marriage. Was his manhood damaged? Was he perverted like the Islanders? Her hassling failed to shame him into marriage. His right hand knew his manhood was healthy. Zach had aimed to become mayor and enact changes before he married a sensible wife whose company he tolerated.

His first proposal as mayor would’ve been to remove the ban on Islanders opening a surgical clinic inside Fort Hope. Had there been a clinic, his parents and younger brother would’ve survived the injuries from their wagon breaking apart in a mudslide when he was twenty.

Now, his clinic was a dream as shattered as that wagon.

If Zach hadn’t paid the outrageous medical fees the Island Federation charged to treat Riley’s injuries, his cousin would’ve died.

In addition to medical bills, Zach had to prepay for Riley’s room and board before the bridge closed for six months during the rainy season. The bridge was the only access between Fort Hope and the Island. The violent coastal waters caused by the power grid surrounding the Island’s shoreline capsized all boats attempting to cross. At the rate the water was rising, the bridge would be closed tomorrow, leaving Riley stranded without the funds to survive after the hospital dismissed him in a week. The Islanders would let him starve on the streets in retaliation for Fort Hope’s ban on unindentured Islanders entering the fort.

Because his cousin had saved Zach’s life twice in the swamp, Zach went to Mayor Astrid for a promissory note to cover Riley’s room and board. The catch was that using one credit of that note obligated Zach to marry her tonight.

Astrid was an attractive widow in her mid-forties with two teenage daughters. She’d eyed him like a tasty meat turning on a spit when, hat in hand, he’d requested a loan to save Riley. The marriage would give Astrid all of Zach’s hard-earned votes and secure her title of mayor until she died.

However, a man’s votes weren’t activated until after a midwife examined the bride and recorded the husband had consummated his marriage.

Smirking at Zach’s blush, she’d given him two coins to buy blue tincture at an apothecary to fire up his cock. Tonight, wedding guests would watch the town barber shave his bushy bachelor beard and cut his blunt bangs and long dark hair.

Marriage to a domineering older woman who’d ridicule his homely face and his clumsy inexperience—yuck. A bottle of blue tincture wasn’t enough to lift his flaccid dick off his balls.

Goddamn Riley for looking to get laid in some filthy tent in an alley . Riley had sex once, and that encounter was all he’d talked about while isolated in the cabin with Zach last season. The things Riley had described had terrified Zach—and the mayor had those same hungry parts.

Zach needed alcohol for courage.

Davis, the paunchy mustachioed owner who tended the bar, waited for his order with a sympathetic expression. Gossip flowed freely in the saloon. Drinks cost.

While resting his forearms on the counter, Zach studied the prices on the plank nailed to the wall behind the bar. He figured three beers would ease his anxiety, and a shot of blue tincture later would give him the wood to bed the mayor.

He heaved a sigh. Davis had raised the prices since the last time he was here. Forget the beers. He’d have to rely on the blue tincture. Damn .

A cloud of perfume hit him as a woman sidled over. “You look like a man needing a stiff drink to ease his troubled mind.” Her husky voice was as flirty as her gloved hand caressing his bicep. Was she setting him up for thieves in an alley? Was she the one who’d robbed Riley?

He turned and looked her over. Oh, hell no! The alley couldn’t have been that dark or Riley that drunk.

A flamboyant hat crowned with feathers covered her head. Ridiculous red curls, stiff with gel, framed a longish oval face with lips painted the shade of her hair. A thick layer of powder probably hid wrinkles and spots. Black eyeliner emphasized the feline slant of her hazel eyes. Beneath her prominent nose, her straight teeth gleamed with humor at his reaction.

She might have been a handsome woman once—back when he wore diapers.

She squeezed his bicep. “Oh my, oh my, my, my.” She dug her fingers in deeper when he tried to pull away.

“Sorry, ma’am. I don’t have the credits to buy you a drink or rent your time in an alley.”

She pursed her lips with exaggerated disappointment. “Goodness gracious, sir, I’m not soliciting your impressive body. I’m merely offering you a free drink to ease your worried face.” She dropped her hand and leaned back against the counter. A generous bosom jutted from the front of her black cloak.

The woman called to the bartender over her shoulder, “Hey, Davis, pour this lonely, bewhiskered hulk a drink on my tab.”

Okay . If she was willing to pay, Zach would accept a free beer.

“Sure thing, Miss Glorianna.” Davis filled a tumbler. “Evening, Zach,” he said. “I wondered why you weren’t here to bid on a crew. You’ve never missed an auction in ten years. Then I heard about Riley.”

“He’ll live.” Zach sniffed his drink. “This isn’t beer.”

“House specialty,” Miss Glorianna said. “Gin with bitters and crushed berries.”

He took a cautious sip, then guzzled the rest and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“A mite. Thanks.”

Davis refilled the tumbler when Miss Glorianna nodded approval.

Suddenly, a bell clanged. Feet stomped, and voices howled like horny hounds as the stage manager opened a shabby blue curtain. On the raised stage at the rear of the room was a high-back stool and a fancy birdcage on a pedestal. The manager raised his hands for silence, then announced, “For your entertainment, I give you the amazing Miss Glorianna.” He pulled a rope that angled a ceiling lantern to shine on the woman beside Zach.

Miss Glorianna kissed her fingers to the crowd, then winked at Zach. “Enjoy the show and free drinks… Mister…?”

“Zach Braxton, ma’am.”

“Folks call him Treetop,” Davis added.

She sighed, pulled a closed hand fan from a pocket, and traced Zach’s crotch. “Goodness me, I believe it.” Leaving him slack-jawed, she strolled to the stage, patting shoulders, pinching cheeks, and rapping her fan against groping hands.

Zach pulled himself together and finished the second drink. A woman had touched his privates. He wouldn’t be totally inexperienced tonight. He cracked a smile because he was going to tell Astrid that her touching him there wasn’t his first time with a woman. He leaned back with his elbows parked on the counter, prepared to enjoy a spark of fun before marriage burned his wick down to a stub.

On stage, with her back to the audience, Miss Glorianna untied her cloak and let it slither to the floor, revealing a low- backed scarlet dress slit to mid-thigh. She looked over her shoulder and struck a pose that showed off a round ass and exposed legs with strappy gold sandals. Her long-boned, toned thighs had probably squeezed the breath from many a client. She turned to face her audience, tantalizing them with an off-the-shoulder plunging neckline with ruffles hiding the cleavage.

Zach saw more female skin in that pose than he had in his entire lifetime.

The audience tossed coins, begging her to show more.

She wiggled her glittery red toenails—shocking! She shimmied and swayed, twirling her fan and tossing it hand to hand in rhythm with her rolling hips.

The lights dimmed, and the noise lowered to excited whispers. An overhead lantern lit the stage. From a distance in the soft yellow light, with the help of the gin, Miss Glorianna appeared younger and very seductive.

She set aside her fan. “Mmmm. I’m in the mood for something hard and long. Something to wrap my lips around and blow.” She puckered her wide mouth.

Zach’s elbows slid off the counter, and he caught himself from toppling.

The noisy encouragement deafened the room. Men openly rubbed their crotches. Zach’s cock tingled without help from the blue tincture. Maybe he could smuggle a genuine stiffy across the bridge and save his coins.

Miss Glorianna opened a leather case on the stool and, with a flourish, wrapped her hands around a flute.

“Haw-haws” rang out as she examined her golden instrument with teasing strokes.

But when she closed her eyes and placed her lips over the mouthpiece, a respectful silence fell. Zach’s people had banned music that entertained or stirred the senses. Their music consisted of voices raised in ceremonial songs, accompanied by drums and rattles.

Miss Glorianna warmed up with a sweet melody. The notes drifted over the booze-scented air, hovered over Zach, then brushed his face like the wings of a butterfly.

After a graceful curtsy to the applause, she set aside the flute and showed off her tuneful voice by singing a ballad about a young couple whose boat capsized in a storm as they fled their parents, who forbade their marriage. They shared a chaste kiss before sinking into the heartless dark depth of the sea, their true love unconsummated. Men blew their noses on their sleeves when she stopped singing.

Miss Glorianna lifted a brow and asked her audience to toss a coin if they hated sad endings. As coins showered the stage, she sang of how the ocean’s deities turned the couple into a lovely mermaid and merman, who lived out a hundred years in a magic castle beneath the sea.

When she finished, Zach whistled and clapped the loudest. He drank a third special gin and wondered what went where when a merman consummated his marriage.

Miss Glorianna played another melody on her flute. The music conjured images of slow, leisurely lovemaking. Fort Hope denounced lengthy lovemaking. A husband politely performed his marital duty to sire babies and to relieve the pressure in his balls that distracted him from work. Early to bed, release seed inside his wife, then early to rise for a full day of work. Zach had never questioned that life. Solidarity was the key to survival. Deviation weakened the bonds.

Out of the blue, a whistle harmonized with the flute. Miss Glorianna’s eyes widened. She looked left, right, then up to where the plumes on her hat had begun to flutter.

The audience hurrahed as a pair of spindly orange legs stood, supporting a lean-framed bird with red tail feathers, red- tipped wings, and a plumy black crest. The rest of its feathers were shades of green and gray, and its heavy gray beak had bright lipstick painted on it to look like smoochy lips. The bird stretched its slender neck below the hat’s brim and gazed upside down at Miss Glorianna’s amused face.

“Well, good evening, Belle.”

Belle bobbed her head and lifted a foot to show off four claws painted to match Miss Glorianna’s toenails. The claws clashed with Belle’s orange legs. The bird preened at the applause, then perched on the pedestal and performed a whistling duet with Miss Glorianna. Zach wasn’t sure which was more amazing, the bird’s pitch-perfect notes or that Miss Glorianna’s range surpassed the lush lows and exquisite highs of her flute.

Davis set a bowl of nuts on the counter. Starving, Zach scooped up a handful. Belle screeched and flew to the bowl, where she hissed and pecked his fingers until he dropped the nuts.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Filthy, hairy beast no eat mine.”

The bird could talk? Zach flushed when he realized he’d just been called a filthy, hairy beast, and everyone was guffawing at him. No one called Zach a filthy, hairy beast to his face. He smacked his palms on the counter to scare her away.

Belle craned her neck at him. “Filthy, hairy, ugly, nasty, mean beast.” She folded her spindly orange legs and squatted on the bowl as if nesting. Her bright orange eyes ringed with black were set forward like a predator. When he attempted to snatch the bowl from under her, she clacked her beak at him. That sturdy beak looked capable of cracking the thick shell of a walnut, and when Belle leveled her gaze at his crotch, Zach stepped back and stuffed his hands into the deep pockets of his overalls over hairy nuts that were his, his, his.

The victory hers, Belle strutted up and down the counter. She bobbed her head at the applause, then gobbled some nuts and seeds. She worked them in her craw a minute and hawked the glob into Zach’s tumbler. Then she fanned her tail feathers, whirled around, and tipped her ass at his face.

“Don’t you dare squirt a sticky gift at Treetop!” Miss Glorianna shouted. She crooked her arm. “Come here, pretty bird, and finish our show.”

Belle tilted her head at Zach. “Belle is pretty, yes?”

“Yes, very pretty.” Pretty Belle, his hind foot. Belle was a bully with a beak that looked like it could stab through a six-inch plank.

Belle flew to Miss Glorianna’s arm. “Want kissy, kissy from my missy. Pretty pleasssse.”

Miss Glorianna pulled a tube of lipstick from the cage. Belle tilted up her beak, perfectly still, as her missy applied a fresh coat. “Look at you. Such a pretty birdie. Yes, you are.”

“Yes, yes. Pretty birdie.” Belle strutted back and forth on the stage, bobbing her head to show off her kissy lips.

The audience stomped their feet. “Sing for us, Belle!” they begged, pitching coins to encourage her.

Belle fluttered her lashes. “More. More. Pretty pleasssse.”

Zach nearly drooled at the number of coins on the stage.

While Belle sang, Miss Glorianna stuffed the coins inside her bodice. A paper flyer floated across the stage and landed by her feet. “Oooooh, a request.” She silently read it, and her face lost all expression. She started toward the left side of the stage and stopped. Then she moved to the right and stopped. Her bosom heaved, and the coins jingled from the agitation.

It seemed like Belle didn’t like the change in their routine. She cocked her head, her tail feathers snapped closed, and her plumy crest stood stiff. She clacked her beak like rapid gunfire at the two men Zach could now see blocking the sides of the stage. After looking around, he noticed two more men blocking the entrance. All of them wore the black armbands of bounty hunters and carried batons, handcuffs, and nets. Their hard gazes were fixed on Miss Glorianna.

“You know the law. Warrants from the Island Federation aren’t legal in my saloon. You hunters, get the fuck out of here,” Davis yelled out.

A burly man in a plaid suit and cap, sitting at a front table, stood and twirled a pair of handcuffs as he walked toward the stage steps. Apparently, he was the leader. “Well, barkeeper, how about forty credits to you and free drinks for everyone while I collect my bounty?”

Forty credits? What had the woman done?

Miss Glorianna stood frozen with Belle perched on her shoulder, chittering.

“Take the bird down first,” the leader barked, and the two men on stage swung nets.

“Don’t hurt her!” Miss Glorianna’s voice shook.

The leader held out the cuffs. “Then come peacefully. Give us trouble, and we’ll crack your pet’s skull with a baton. Or maybe cripple its wings. Or maybe we break one of your fingers so you don’t play so sweet anymore.”

“Davis, don’t let them take me!” she pleaded.

The leader scanned the room. “Nice place, Davis. Be a shame to see it torched.”

Zach furrowed his brow. Damned Islanders. So arrogant and entitled. The Trading Post was a barrier isle a stone’s throw from the larger Island Federation. The isle had been designated a neutral zone and offered access to the only bridge to Fort Hope. The other bridges had collapsed centuries ago. Neutral merchants owned and operated the Trading Post, and the sheriff and her deputies executed outsiders who threatened the peace. However, patrolling the alleys to capture the gang that had robbed Riley occupied the sheriff tonight.

Resigned to her arrest, Miss Glorianna extended her wrists for the handcuffs, and the two bounty hunters on stage approached her. Just before one snapped a cuff over her wrist, she raised her skirt and implemented a sharp kick to the nuts that dropped the man to his knees. Belle flew at the other hunter and shredded the net that was falling over her. He crouched and covered his head with his arms, yelling for help.

“Time for us to get the fuck out of Dodge, Belle!” Miss Glorianna turned her head this way and that, seeking a way out. Even if she did escape, Zach knew it was pointless. More bounty hunters would come after her. She leveled her hazel eyes on him. “Hey, Treetop. How much will you pay me for an indenture and get me into Fort Hope as your servant?”

Zach startled. “I don’t have much.” He emptied his pocket. Crumbs, lint, and two coins for the tincture.

“Sold!” She leaped off the stage and ran to him, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The locals weren’t allowing the trespassing bounty hunters to steal Miss Glorianna and threaten to torch their favorite saloon. Feet tripped the leader while he was trying to reach her.

Zach held her like a fragile flower. A woman had never pressed her breasts against him before. “Uh… uh… ma’am… I… I…” He looked over her head at Davis, who was pulling an indenture contract from a stack beneath the counter.

Davis quickly printed their names, then added his own as the witness.

A bouncer placed Miss Glorianna’s case, flute, cage, hat, and cloak on the counter. Then he tapped his baton beneath the chin of the angry leader spewing threats. “Shut up, or you’ll spit teeth.”

The leader shut up.

While angry patrons bound and gagged the hunters, the bouncers locked the entrance and shuttered the windows.

With Belle hovering close, Miss Glorianna signed the paper and added an inked thumbprint that upheld the contract if a fake name was used. “Sign, ink, and pay me, Treetop.”

Dazed, Zach signed, inked, and slid over the coins.

“Witnessed and inked,” called out Davis, a legal officiary for the auctions. “This contract is binding and recognized by the Island Federation and the territory of Fort Hope. Unless an owner frees his servant, the indenture ends after the next harvest. Any hunter interfering with Zach Braxton’s claim will be thrown off the bridge by a deputy of the Trading Post.”

Every patron offered to be deputized. The bounty hunters could be thrown off the bridge without anyone—especially whoever had hired them—filing a complaint.

Zach now owned a servant to watch his back and tend his cabin through the rainy season. As long as he could survive until his birthday and didn’t use the promissory note for supplies, he was no longer obligated to marry the mayor. Maybe having saved Miss Glorianna, he could beg a loan from Davis to provide room and board for Riley on the Trading Post. Zach would repay him triple. And why hadn’t Zach thought of that before now?

Except Miss Glorianna couldn’t get inside Fort Hope without an owner to live with her in the farm basin. And even if Zach lived with her, the flooding locked everyone inside the basin for months, and he had no money to buy food and expensive batteries for his lanterns and cookstove. She needed work clothes, boots, and medical supplies. While farmers were immune to everything, servants were susceptible to venomous bites and fevers. Could Miss Glorianna swim, fish, or cook? Could she endure months of relentless rain? Most importantly, what horrible crime had she committed? Had Belle bitten off the finger of a high-ranking citizen of the Island Federation?

Whatever the reason for the warrant, he couldn’t accept her indenture, but he could stall for time while she found a hiding place.

“Miss Glorianna, we need to talk about why?—”

“Later!” She thrust the cage at him to carry. “Follow me.”

He followed her through the doorway of the stockroom behind the bar. “You don’t know what you’ve signed up for.”

“I know what I’m running from. Move your big feet.” She led him around stacked kegs toward the upper rooms Davis rented out. She looked both ways before stepping into the hallway and unlocking a door at the far end.

Belle flew in first. “All clear,” she chirped, then settled on the windowsill and watched the door.

The narrow room held a lumpy bed, battery lanterns, shelves instead of a closet, and a vanity with a polished mirror. Cosmetics covered the vanity. Dresses and undergarments hung on rows of pegs on the plaster walls.

Zach fingered a soft, billowy skirt. “You’ll need overalls, shirts, boots, and rainwear. I’ve got no money to pay for anything. Bartley at the mercantile might trade workwear for your fine clothes, but he’ll flat-out refuse to sell me food supplies on credit.”

She tossed her hat and curly wig on the bed. Her real hair was light brown and mashed flat. She really was homely, especially with her knobby nose. But her voice and form were nice.

“The amazing Miss Glorianna has retired. I’ll trade all my clothes for workwear.” She swept her cosmetics into a battered leather satchel and placed it on the bed.

Belle hopped from foot to foot. “Kissies?”

“Yes, your kissies are inside.” She pressed her fists to her temples, struggling to compose herself before she stuffed Belle’s bedding and toys into the cage.

“Ma’am… I can’t afford to feed us, much less your bird. She’ll starve.”

“Belle can catch her own food. Be nice to her, and she’ll hunt for us, too. There should be plenty of rats and snakes in the cane fields.”

At his lowest point, Zach had never grilled rats. Snake meat, yes. “Listen to me. Do you understand the hardships ahead?”

“I understand we must cross the bridge before the flooding closes it. Then I’m safe.”

Belle chittered at Zach for upsetting her missy.

Zach would end up roasting that bird when they were starving. He just knew it.

Miss Glorianna bent over the bed and shook the coins from out of her bodice. “This will pay for food.”

“Enough to feed us cheap nutrient gravy and noodles for a month. The problem is the flooding will trap us inside the basin without access to any shops for six months. We can’t borrow from other farmers because we’ll be isolated in my cabin for up to three months on our own.”

Miss Glorianna seemed to listen as she groped under floorboards and loosened ceiling tiles for hidden purses. “I’ve three months of tips plus a refund due for the six months I’ve paid on my room and board.”

“Can Davis transfer your remaining room and board to my cousin, Riley?”

“Sure.”

Riley could live here until the bridge opened. That left having the funds to buy staples and workwear. Counting the coins, Zach knew there still wasn’t enough to buy food. Belle would have to hunt for them. “Okay, rat’s on the menu if Belle catches one.”

“Rat is yum,” Belle squeaked.

“I’m keeping my flute, the satchel, and Belle’s hat and cage. Everything else is tradable. I can’t go back. I’ll take my chances with you.”

“Do you understand there’s no changing your mind after the bridge closes?”

“I know. I know . I’d even considered putting myself on the auction block before you arrived. But there were no advertisements for singers and music teachers. Your people stick to the same curriculum. They hate change and artistic development. As if a little lively music would corrupt them.” She scoffed at their backward mentality.

Zach was ashamed to tell her that he’d dropped out of school when he was twelve. “My wagon and ponies are hitched on the loading dock behind Bartley’s Mercantile.” He shifted his weight back and forth. “Ma’am, for the last time… do you understand what an indenture means and how desperate I am to use any help? I’ll own your service. We’ll live in a one-room cabin. Just us.”

“I faked my death to escape wedding a man I loathe.”

Frankly, with her looks, she should’ve married and been thankful for any man who’d have her. Ugh . Must be a windy geezer with foul breath and cold hands. Maybe he was infatuated with having her long legs wrapped around his waist. Zach hoped there was work in her. He wasn’t asking her to farm. Profits from the coming harvest would’ve been nice, but he had a sizeable trust fund waiting when he turned twenty-five in two months. All he wanted was someone to watch his back and cook and clean while he lived on the farm until the basin’s tunnel reopened, and then he could leave and claim his trust fund and votes. There’d be no ceremony in town for the transfer. Just him striding into the meeting house and demanding what everyone knew was rightfully his.

“Okay. Remember, I warned you. We gotta get moving and hope no more hunters are looking for you.”

“I doubt there are others. Those hunters knew exactly where to find me.” She tossed fancy black cuffed pants and a white shirt on the bed. She’d probably disguised herself as a man when she’d fled her home. She turned her back to him and unfastened the shoulder hooks of her gown, and it fell to her hips.

Zach wondered if stripping was part of her performance on stage. He should look away but justified his staring as necessary to assess the work in her body. She wasn’t wrinkled and stringy. Her shoulders were wide, and her back looked strong but tapered to narrow hips that were unfriendly for birthing babies—that was, if she had childbearing years left in her. How old was she? He was curious, not attracted.

Fort Hope’s council didn’t tolerate consorting with female servants. They’d question Miss Glorianna in the steam lodge, where truth was squeezed out using a drugged vapor. Astrid would fine Zach half his land and divide it among the bachelors if Miss Glorianna confessed to having had sex with him.

His servant looked over her shoulder and caught him gawking. “Does my service include your personal needs?” Her voice sounded more amused than worried.

Zach’s cheeks heated. “No… um… congress.”

“Does congress mean F-U-C-K-I-N-G?”

Puzzled why she spelled the word, he mumbled, “Uh… yeah.”

“Never say bad words around Belle. Spell them out. If a word embarrasses you, she’ll drive you crazy by repeating it over and over.”

Hearing her name, Belle hopped atop the pile of clothes for trade. She cocked her head. “Spell means naughty. Hee, hee, hee.”

“Can we sell her to Bartley?” Zack asked.

“Believe me, I’ve been tempted.”

Belle clucked. “Mean Bartley chases Belle with a broom.”

Miss Glorianna pulled her pants up under her gown. “Be nice to her, and Belle will hunt and guard against predators. Purr for me, my clever Belle.”

Belle bobbed and purred.

“Scare the rats.”

The bird meowed, and Zach grinned.

“And if you see big, big rats?” Miss Glorianna whispered.

Belle barked sharply, then howled and flapped her wings.

Dang . What an act those two must have performed. No wonder at the number of coins saved. “Can she growl?”

“She mimics everything.” The gown pooled to her feet, and she fastened her tight pants.

Zach thought of the lonely months ahead shut in without a chaperone. He gulped, his eyes drawn to her backside.

Belle hopped on the bed, blocking his view. “Hairy beast likes staring at my missy’s ass.”

Caught ogling, Zach blushed. “Bugger you!” If he had a broom…

“Hee, hee, hee. Bug-ger you, bug-ger you?—”

“Shut up! I’m not interested in…in… eff ing your missy.”

“Eff-ing, eff-ing, eff?—”

“Hush, or no kissy lips for you,” her missy warned, and Belle ducked her head inside her wing.

Zach lowered his voice. “I… um… understand that mature Island women have strong urges. If you have an itch, close the loft bed’s curtain and scratch it.”

“And what about your needs, Treetop?”

Her teasing voice unnerved him. He didn’t want her hankering after him. “I’ll take my needs outside on the porch. Riley and I call it going fishing.”

“Fine with me. I’ll fish outside on the porch, too. Less cleanup that way.”

Riley never hinted that an aroused woman spilled her creamy wetness like a man. Maybe Miss Glorianna would talk about it. Cooped up over the months, bored roommates talked about the mysteries of life.

He’d tolerate that kind of female jabbering.

“There’s something you need to know, Zach. Let’s get it over with.”

Old as she was, she was bound to have weak eyes. He sighed. “Tell me.”

Miss Glorianna turned and faced him. Instead of a generous bosom, she revealed well-defined pecs and flat pink nipples. Her voice deepened. “I’m a man, and I like fishing.”

Zach stared. “You can’t be a man.”

“Want to view my man parts.” She—he?—started to lower the pants.

“No!” Zach backed away, spooked and unable to stop staring. “But you clearly said you were running from a husband !”

“My father betrothed me to a man, his good friend, the deputy viceroy.”

Zach choked. Same-sex marriages were legal in the Island Federation, but Fort Hope condemned those perverted unions.

“Oh, wipe that disgust off your face. Islanders have recognized same-sex marriages since the Carolina Sanctuary launched our oceanic domes. Furthermore, polygamy is legal. Sharing happens because we Islanders are cramped for living space.”

“Practice abstinence, and you’d have space. Stop breeding like rats.”

“Don’t preach abstinence. Islanders were programmed with heats and ruts before our oceanic domes were launched into the Atlantic so survivors would continue to breed despite any hardships encountered.”

“Do you desire men, or was the engagement forced?”

“Forced. However, even before my first rut, I’ve always desired men, provided they have a fine mind attached to a mighty fine physique. Otherwise, I’m not attracted.” He paused and arched a plucked brow at Zach, looking him up and down.

Zach knew what she, no, he saw when he looked at him—an ugly, filthy, hairy, and ignorant farmer who owned his indenture until after the next harvest.

“Are you worried I’ll seduce you, Treetop?”

“You flirted with me and bought me drinks.”

“I saw a man down on his luck and sympathized. Besides… have you looked in a mirror lately? Greasy food streaks your beard, and it stinks. I’d rather kiss Belle.”

“Hee, hee, hee.” Belle offered a kiss to her missy.

Zach defended himself. “A bachelor can’t shave until his wedding night. Courting is about practical minds and strong bodies.”

“You have an abundance of both.”

Was that a compliment or a slap? Zach didn’t have time to bicker. “What’s your real name?”

“William van Diehn. Call me Will.”

Uh-oh . “Are you related to Viceroy van Diehn?”

“My father. He arranged a marriage with Deputy Viceroy Elliston for political concessions. The marriage was scheduled for the day I graduated from the College of Fine Arts. With the household leaving me alone to study, I fled the week of my finals.”

“How old are you? You look like you should be on a third marriage by now.”

Will gave a silvery laugh. “Thank you. Beneath the stage paint, I’m twenty-one. I’ve studied music and theater for years. My dream is to conduct and direct live performances from our archives. Not to become a political fuck toy.”

“Fuck toy, fuck toy, fuck toy, fuck—” Belle stopped singing the words when Will scowled at her. “Belle loves her pretty feathers. Belle zips her beak now. Zzzzzzzip.”

“You’ve threatened to pluck her, eh?” Zach smiled.

“If she behaves, I dye her feathers red.” Will talked fast as he put on his shirt, socks, and polished black loafers.

Belle hopped into her cage, closed the door, and latched it. “Love my Will. Love my pretty feathers and kissies.”

What kind of bird was she? She’d smoothly switched to saying Will’s name instead of calling him her missy.

The wind rattled against the single window. The dark sky had greenish streaks that said the rains were coming in hard tonight. Damn . He had an hour to trade for supplies before the bridge to Fort Hope closed, then three days to reach the basin before the flooding closed its gated tunnel.

He hadn’t used the promissory note, so he wasn’t breaking any law by driving through town without stopping. The gatekeeper could deliver the note to Astrid along with a message that Zach had a servant and would return after the tunnel was open to collect his votes.

What worried him was that Astrid would have townspeople gathered at the gate to escort him to the wedding service. She would seize any excuse to hold him for questioning until the main road was flooded. Like, why was the viceroy’s son his indentured servant?