I did not see you there.” He said, grabbing a napkin and wiped his mouth hastily.Elaina chuckled, remaining in the doorway. “Relax, Aran. Please, finish your breakfast.” While she was strict and hard as nails on the training ground, she could be quite relaxed and informal otherwise.“Thank you, Master.” He sat down and resumed his meal. Elaina took the chair opposite, and Aran tried to keep his eyes on his plate. Not easy with a bosom like that right across the table. Her pink nipples dented the fabric of the robe.“I received a letter this morning from one of the local farms,” Elaina said, reaching across the table to hand him a piece of paper.Aran took the paper, reading while he chewed his meat. It was a request for aid from a farm not too far east of the Chapel. A local goodwife was having problems with a rogue wolf killing her livestock. Her husband would normally take care of it, but apparently, he was up in Ironshire selling produce.Once Aran had finished reading, he looked up,. To his mind, there could be nothing worrying a woman, even the mother of the Emir, which could not wait until the Emir commanded her presence before him.For the Emir it provided a welcome break from the utter boredom of the economic problems of a country earning too much foreign currency, and not being able to spend it all. It seemed that every suggestion the Emir produced of ways to spend foreign currency had either been adopted, or were impractical for some abstruse reason. Hurrying to the harem interview room, the Emir was heartily grateful to his mother for offering him this chance to get away. It was only his second day in the country but he had already discovered that being the absolute ruler of a country was not all beer and skittles. And in a Moslem Emirate it was not any beer at all.As he entered the room the sight which awaited him stopped him in his tracks. The Princess, his mother, was waiting quietly for him, dressed in the harem uniform of open bolero and transparent,.
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