Chapter 8
Lady Duxelle sped through the spinach fields on a blue hovercycle made of licorice. The cycle hovered two feet above the ground, radiating light in all directions, and spinach flew up in clumps around her as she cut a path through the rutabaga boulders and rolling hills.
She pushed the cycle forward and squinted ahead of her with one eye; the other was swollen shut. Her ribs throbbed with pain. One of them might have been broken. A few maybe. But she tried to ignore it, and the rest of the bruises all over her body.
She tasted her own sweat in her mouth and felt it pooling inside her armor. The hornet-whir of the cycle made it hard to think. She had never ridden a Gourman vehicle before, and riding it now made her cement her hatred for them.
She shouldn’t have been here. She
