Free The Gambit with Perfection (The Phantom of the Earth Book 2) by Raeden Zen Page B

commonwealth.’ Alas, the lady was mistaken. I didn’t receive a bid from the Barremian Consortium, or any other.” Isabelle’s tone turned sour. “I was purchased by Chancellor Masimovian.”
    “A great honor, my lady,” Valentine said.
    Isabelle wanted to throw her head back and scream. Valentine, like most Beimenians, knew she’d been a Maiden of Masimovian prior to marrying the chancellor. What they didn’t know was that it took persistent effort for her to convince the chancellor to allow her to seek new employment; she failed in her effort to convince him to give up his maidens entirely and except for Maritza Menendes, the keeper of Reassortment Hall, no others followed her lead.
    “What do you want to be when you grow up, my sweet?” Isabelle said. Valentine squeaked as her breath caught. “It’s not a trick question.” In lieu of being auctioned to the highest bidders after the Harpoon Exams, adult couriers completed civil service exams to maintain their spot in the commonwealth. If they passed the exams, they typically transitioned to roles in the great city’s Central Government District; sometimes they were granted aristocratic positions in the capital city or elsewhere in the commonwealth.
    Valentine found her voice. “I have so much to learn, my lady, but … I’d love to be a lady, like you … one day … if you think that makes sense.”
    Isabelle swiveled, facing Valentine. The courier’s lips were closed in a seam, her eyes clear and intense, filled with determination that reminded Isabelle not a little of herself. She pushed her forefingers through Valentine’s wet hair, swiping it away from her face. “How would you like to be the lady of the First Ward of Beimeni City?”
    Valentine swallowed deeply. Her cheeks turned as red as overripe apples. “I couldn’t.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t.” She set the brush on the tub’s rim. “That’s my lady’s job and I’d never—”
    “The First Ward of the great city is filled with nearly eight million transhumans and growing by the day. It’s the most populous ward in all the Great Commonwealth. You’d become one of the most powerful women in the country.”
    “It’s such an honor, my lady.” Valentine trembled. “I’d love to.” She bit her lip. “Who would you rule then, my lady?”
    “All of my candidates,” she turned away from Valentine, “all of my children.”
    They lingered for a while, then wrapped themselves in towels and sat in the sauna, talking metaphysics and politics.
    Later in the evening, Isabelle changed into a wrap dress, black but for the phoenix on the front, its long wings extending over her chest and shoulders. She took an elevator from her suite in Masimovian Tower to the Gallery of the Chancellor. Rays from the Granville sun shone at sharp angles from windows high above, lighting statues made of colorful marble, sculpted to represent the thirty territories of the Great Commonwealth. Chancellor Atticus Masimovian and his maidens didn’t see or hear her, too distracted by the feast that lay before them. Let them choke and retch , Isabelle thought, every one of them. She sighed and adjusted one of her many rings.
    The maidens cooed, fed the chancellor with their forefingers, and filled his gold-rimmed crystal glass with cabernet sauvignon, synthetically aged two hundred years, the way he liked it. On the middle of the marble table sat two lobster tails as large as sledgehammers along with two filet mignons and three onions on a porcelain dish. Melted butter dripped from the lobster, which along with the meat sat in a bed of basil leaves and violet cabbage. Grapes, cherry tomatoes, strawberries, orange slices, cucumbers, and black olives formed semicircles around the meat and opened toward Atticus. Beside the dish stood three bottles of Loverealan wine, two of which were empty.
    Isabelle clapped. The maidens pouted and scurried onto the terrace that overlooked Masimovian Center, their lingerie