Overlord: The Fringe, Book 2 Read Online Free PDF

the tree from the top and cut into the orange mountain. She followed suit. Fishy, yet carrot-sweet, the stuff didn’t taste very good. After one gagging bite, she set her fork aside.
    “This course is not pleasing to you?”
    “Do I have to eat it?” If he told her to eat the glop or wear it, she’d opt for putting it on her head.
    “No.” He rang the bell.
    While the girl exchanged plates, he poured a clear yellow wine into their glasses.
    This time, she recognized everything on her plate: chicken, green beans and buttered pasta. She lifted the leg of chicken and took a big bite. It smelled and tasted like oranges. Her mouth watered, and she took another bite before she’d finished chewing the last.
    When she looked over, she found him cutting into the chicken with a knife and fork. His eyebrows drew together when he saw the chicken leg in her hands and rivulets of sauce running down her chin.
    She returned the chicken to her plate, remembered to wipe her face with the napkin, then struggled to cut the meat with the dull little knife. After about two minutes of trying, she slammed the knife and fork down.
    “I’m going to eat this with my hands. If my table manners bother you, tough, go sit at the other end. I’m hungry, and I don’t feel much like shilly-shallying.”
    Defiantly, she scooped up and tore into the chicken. She gnawed the bone clean, wiped her face, then started on the green beans and pasta. In deference to him, she used her fork.
    Raw, painful hunger drove her to ignore him as she ate. He could glare at her all he wanted and think her the most vulgar woman in the Void. She didn’t care. Never in her life had she tasted food like this. If he wanted to mince his portion into itty-bitty pieces and eat it like a finicky child, good for him. He probably ate like this every night.
    Anger rose in her at the riches rubbed in her face. The triple-platinum Runner, the grand ballroom prison, brandy that waltzed down her throat, gold-encrusted china, fresh food prepared by a skilled cook—what she’d seen of his den so far would literally buy her home world of Taiga, with script to spare.
    Bewildered, she raised her gaze to find him watching her with a guarded expression. “Why the hell did you bother?”
    “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.” He set his fork aside with a sigh.
    “That you spent more to nab me than I’m worth? Yeah-huh. Remarkably Average Mary done figured it. Fill me in on why.”
    He frowned at her country-simple tone. “Precisely what I’d like to know. Why.” He sipped his wine. “I want to know why you’ve been stealing my goods.”
    “What do you care?” She spread her hands, indicating the riches before her. “I couldn’t possibly, in a thousand lifetimes, even put a dent in your obscene wealth.” She leaned toward him. “Are you so greedy you begrudge me a pittance for a good cause while you wallow in decadence? Christ! You really do need a hobby.”
    “Perhaps, if you tell me your good cause, I’ll gladly stuff your coffers with my obscene wealth. I might even make your cause my hobby.” Saluting her with his glass, he gave her that enigmatic half grin and then drank.
    For a moment, she sat stunned. “You think you can buy me?” She wanted to throw her wine in his face and smash every dish on the table. The threat of poison on her wrist held her still.
    “No, I—”
    “Everything in your world has a price tag, doesn’t it?” Shaking with fury, she stood. “To you, every person is a thing to be bought or sold, their value forever fluid. Buy me today for twenty, then sell me tomorrow for ten. Or just throw me away entirely.” She glared at him with all the loathing she could muster. “I may not know a fancy napkin, and I may not know how to eat like a trained IWOG poodle, but I sure as spit know what honor is, and you can’t afford mine.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply I could buy you, I simply meant—”
    “That if I confessed, you might help