Chapter Seven
SEVEN
ASPETH
I’m trying not to be smug as he guides me out of his bedroom. Getting him to agree to let me into the fledgling ranks was surprisingly easy. A hand in marriage? A virtue I don’t plan on using? Child’s play.
I’ll think about the implications of it later. For now, I just feel as if I can breathe for the first time since arriving here in Vastwarren. I’m going to join the guild. I’m not going to be sent home. Everything will be fine.
“You’re both determined to do this?” Hawk asks as I rejoin Gwenna in the hall. “Can’t talk you out of it?”
“Not me,” I say automatically, and try not to stare too hard at Gwenna. If she abandons me at this point, I won’t blame her, but…I’ll also miss her terribly. Having her at my side is the only thing that’s kept me from having a nervous breakdown as one obstacle after another presented itself.
“I’m staying at Sparrow’s side,” my former maid says, lifting her chin. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I beam at her. “We’re going to have so much fun—”
“This is not about fun,” the Taurian snarls at me. “If you’re expecting ‘fun’ out of this, then you might as well turn around right now and march out that door.”
Gwenna and I exchange grimaces at his sour attitude. Sheesh.
“This is a dangerous job, and that’s why apprenticing is so important. If you aren’t going to take this seriously—” He pauses, glancing around. “Where in the five hells did Lark go?”
“Got pukey,” Gwenna explains. “She headed off to find the latrine.”
Hawk sighs heavily, then rubs a hand down his long brown snout. I want to stare at him in fascination, because I’ve never spent so much time around a Taurian before, but it seems rude. I guess I can stare at him after we get married.
Goodness. We’re going to be married . The thought strikes me as absurd and bizarre at the same time. If he finds out I’m a holder’s heir, he’s going to send me back to my father—or blackmail me for funds or artifacts I don’t have. It’s imperative he never know.
“Fine. Whatever,” Hawk says after a long moment. “I’ll show you to your quarters. Follow me before I change my mind.”
And then he gives me a long, meaningful look.
“Wonderful,” I chirp. “Thank you.”
We pause and I gaze at my surroundings, thrilled. I’ve tried to picture what the nests—the dorms the fledglings live in until they get official guild housing of their own—are like. It’s dark and I don’t have my spectacles, but the place seems cozy enough. There are creaky wooden floors under my feet, and there’s a draft coming in from somewhere. A large fireplace at the entrance has a pair of chairs near it, and on the landing of the stairs there’s a painting that I can’t make out. Upstairs, I imagine, is where the students stay. Overall, it’s a bit ramshackle, but that just adds to the charm.
Gwenna tugs on the cart in the doorway. Before she can drag it in farther, the Taurian lets out a heavy sigh, moves toward her, and grabs the entire thing, holding it against his chest as if it weighs nothing at all. It’s a display of strength more than it is of politeness, and I’m unnerved as he heads up the stairs.
Gwenna is, too. She shoots me a suspicious look as I grab Squeaker’s carrier and tuck it under my arm. “Change his mind about what? What’s he talking about?”
“He’s going to be my chaperone,” I whisper brightly. “So I can join the guild apprentice ranks.”
“And how did you manage that?”
“I’ll explain later.”
The look she gives me is openly skeptical, but I keep smiling. I follow behind the Taurian as he stomps up the stairs, his hooves making sharp, echoing raps on the wood. He moves to the door farthest down the narrow hall and throws it open, revealing a small room with a single bed, a ragged rug on the floor, and a trunk at the foot of the bed. “Quarters” is all he says.
“Delightful,” I say, and I mean it. This is the authentic experience and I’m going to savor every moment. “Looks as if we’re sharing, Gwenna.”
“For tonight you are,” he agrees, turning to look at me over his shoulder. “Tomorrow you’re with me. We’ll find a priest in the morning.”
“What?” Gwenna squawks.
I wave a hand at her, indicating she needs to be quiet. I’ll explain everything when we’re alone.
Hawk moves toward the trunk, and I can’t help but notice that for his big, bulky form, he moves with a fascinating grace. Are all Taurians built like him, or is he unique in his breadth? I eye his thick flanks and the pants nearly falling down his arse behind his tail….
Gwenna tugs on my wet sleeve, glaring at me furiously.
“Later,” I mouth to her, giving a little shake of my head. “This is quite lovely, thank you, Hawk.”
“?‘Instructor Hawk’ to all fledglings,” he corrects, and throws the trunk open, then points at the contents. “Uniforms. You’ll wear these every day while you’re in this house. Sash goes over the right shoulder. It’s a plain white sash for a fledgling. Be up at eight for breakfast and team registration. After that, we’ll go straight into training.” Before I can say anything, he turns and heads straight for me, pinning me with his gaze. “You—be up earlier.”
“Right. Of course, Instructor Hawk.” The words sound awkward together, and I can’t help but tease. “You sure you don’t want me to call you ‘master’?”
The look he gives me could make grass wither. “I’m not a guild master. Taurians never are.” He storms out of the room, nearly knocking Gwenna over onto the pile of bags in the cart. “Get some sleep. Lark can take care of herself.”
“When do we meet Magpie?” I call after him.
He ignores me and heads down the stairs. Rude. Perhaps we’ll see Magpie in the morning, then. A thrill of excitement races through me at the thought of meeting my childhood hero. Dreamily, I turn on my heel and set Squeaker’s carrying case down upon the floor…only to notice that Gwenna is glaring at me.
Hard.
“What was that all about?” Gwenna asks, her tone dangerously even.
“I persuaded Instructor Hawk that we both need to join the school to round out the numbers.” I release Squeaker from her carrier and she immediately waddles out with an indignant look, her orange fur spiked with rain. She begins to sniff things, settling in. “It’s all taken care of.”
“What did you convince him with, pray tell?”
“My winning personality?” When she continues to scowl, I can tell she’s not buying it. “He needs a wife—”
Gwenna’s screech echoes in the room. “What—?!”
I immediately race over to her side and clap a hand over her mouth, settling on the bed beside her. “Shh! I don’t want him to change his mind!”
“Are you insane ?” she hisses. “You’re going to hook up with some stranger just because he needs a wife? Does he know who you are?”
“No, and neither of us is going to tell him!”
“Aspeth, he has hooves .”
“Well, I’m sure his other parts are reasonably normal. Don’t you think? But apparently there’s some rutting situation”—I ignore Gwenna’s horrified moan and continue on—“and he needs a bed companion. And I need a chaperone, so it works out quite nicely for both of us. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Your father—”
“Will be dead unless I get some artifacts. Me taking a Taurian to my bed is the least of my problems.”
“Well, no wonder you got him to agree,” she mutters. “Horny old goat.”
“I don’t think he’s that old. And he’s a Taurian. There’s no goat involved there, just bull.”
She points at me. “You are the worst and this is a terrible plan.”
“You won’t tell on me, will you?”
Gwenna sighs heavily. “No. No, I suppose I won’t. But if you call me ‘Chickadee’ again, all bets are off.”
My stomach is full of butterflies all night. I don’t sleep a wink, just stare up at the ceiling in the darkness while Gwenna snores in bed next to me, Squeaker sprawled atop my breasts in her usual sleeping spot. The cat is enormously heavy and presses on my lungs, but I don’t mind. It’s a comforting weight, having her there, and I pet her and try to compose my thoughts.
I’m marrying a stranger in the morning.
A stranger with hooves, as Gwenna pointed out. His face isn’t even remotely the same shape as mine. I suppose kissing is out…and then I wonder why I’m even thinking about kissing at all. I did enjoy kissing Barnabus, I think wistfully, but his kisses were a lie to get me to marry him. I’d rather take an honest man with no kisses than a liar with a sweet tongue.
Then again, I’d rather join the guild with no man, but I guess I can’t have everything.
Hours pass, and when the dawn begins to creep into the skies, I ease myself from bed and feed the cat her dried rations, then dress myself in the uniform I had made for this day. I’ve been on my guild plans for months now, and so I’ve made myself a fitted version of the very basic fledgling garb. Each fledgling wears brown trousers with multiple pockets, knee-high leather boots, and a plain white shirt under a guild jacket encrusted with rows of buttons. Over the tightly buttoned jacket, an individual guild sash is worn affixed over one shoulder and showcasing the particular guild artificer’s honors. Mine is plain at the moment, but I affix it anyhow. My boots are finely tooled leather with decorative sparrows dancing up the sides next to the buttons, and I have matching bracers that look very nice and keep my large, fashionably puffed sleeves out of the way. My blouse is plain white as is proper, but I’ve made sure that it’s crafted from the finest linen, and I’ve paired it with a functional overskirt in brown made out of a glossy shot silk that gleams in the light.
I look rather fetching, if I do say so myself. I feel well-armored against the disparaging comments that the men of the guild are likely to make this morning when I show up for apprenticing with the rest of Magpie’s crew. It’s outrageous that these men think women can’t hunt for artifacts as well as anyone else…as if gender has anything to do with it.
Putting on my spectacles, I peer at my appearance in the small mirror mounted on the wall, tuck a few stray strands of hair into a bun at my nape, and then pull my spectacles off again and hide them in one of the trunks. I can’t let anyone know about my vision issues until I’m official.
Swallowing hard, I take one last look at Gwenna, still in bed, and my sweet Squeaker, who’s hungrily eating the last few bites of her kibble. I kneel down to scratch Squeaker’s orange chin. She’ll be fine in the room by herself while we’re in our schooling, and Gwenna will make sure that she’s got more food and water and her toilet pads are changed out. “I have to go,” I whisper to Squeaker. “I’m off to marry a Taurian. Wish me luck.”
Squeaker just purrs and leans into my caress, oblivious to the chaos in my head. She’s happy as long as she’s got kibble and a nice comfy place to lay her head. It’s Gwenna I’m worried about—what if she changes her mind and spills the truth about who I really am? We’re friends, but I know she can also be stubborn when she thinks we’re doing something foolish.
Marrying a stranger? That has to be the height of foolishness in practical Gwenna’s eyes.
I head down the stairs, my stomach full of flutters. Someone’s opened the shutters and light floods into the dormitory. It’s a quaint place, with heavy wooden beams and equally heavy furniture placed in strategic sitting spots, but I suppose it makes sense given that a Taurian would break anything dainty. It’s cozy, though. There’s a shelf with books on it across from the fireplace, and a desk covered in papers on the route to what must be the kitchen area. There’s no one around, and I have a moment to squint at the large portrait of a strong-looking woman at the landing. She’s wearing a guild sash over one shoulder and pants. Her face is lit up with wonder and she holds a glittering box in her hands, extending them out toward the viewer. This must be Magpie.
A box? I wonder which of her many finds are contained in the box. I lean in closer, trying to focus my eyes. Perhaps this isn’t Magpie after all? The sash she wears is the red of a guild master, though. How very confusing. I practically press my nose to the painting, trying to get the object in focus.
“What are you wearing?”
The harsh voice echoes in the quiet dormitory halls and I wince, turning around at the top of the landing.
It’s the Taurian, standing at the base of the stairs. He’s dressed in a guild uniform similar to mine, but his shoulder is covered with the bright blue of his guild sash and something gleaming that I can’t make out. But the large russet head is most certainly his, as is the wide breadth of shoulders in the white linen shirt. He’s not wearing a guild jacket, and looks so casual I don’t know what to make of it. I decide to ignore his state of undress and smile instead. “Oh, good morning, Instructor Hawk. I was admiring the painting.” I gesture at it behind me. “I don’t suppose you know—”
“What are you wearing?”
He repeats the sentence with the same unhurried cadence, but there’s nevertheless a touch of menace in his tone. It makes me bristle, and my back stiffens. He’s going to need to learn how to deal with women if he plans on being married to me, because the more you order me about, the less inclined I am to listen. “Is that Magpie in the painting?”
Hawk points at the base of the stairs, as if indicating I should move there, and quickly.
Even though I’m irritated, I need him. I can’t afford to anger the person I need to enroll me into the fledgling program…at least, not on day one. Once I’m safely ensconced in training, I don’t give a god’s arse what he thinks of me. Fighting back my annoyance, I head down the stairs and stand in the spot he indicates.
“What are you wearing?” he asks again.
“A uniform.” I flick a strand of Squeaker’s cat hair off my sleeve. “Why? Am I wrinkled?”
“That’s not the uniform I gave you.” This close, I can see the displeasure on his unusual face.
“That’s correct. I had this one tailored before I left home.”
His arms cross over his chest and he glares down at me. “Are you not taking this seriously? Is all of this a joke to you? Because we can end this right now—”
“Of course I’m taking this seriously!” I put my hands on my hips and glare up at him. “I should think that’s obvious, given that I had a uniform made even before I arrived. You’re insulting me by suggesting otherwise.”
“Everyone wears the same uniforms when they’re a fledgling,” he says in that dangerous tone of his. “The same shitty uniform. You want to be taken seriously? Then you’ll change.”
“Having a blouse tailored doesn’t mean that I’m not serious—”
He leans in, and I automatically lean back, his muzzle in my face. “Do you really want me to rip those clothes off you, Aspeth? Is that what we’re going for here?”
I let out a squeak of distress, blinking up at him. He’s alarmingly tall. Alarmingly tall and a little scary. “D-do you really want to start our marriage ripping my clothes off?”
“While I would love nothing more than to do that in about three weeks,” he murmurs in that deadly voice, “right now I just want you to change. Understand?”
Managing a nod, I hold my breath until he steps back and gestures up the stairs again. This time I race up them, heading back to my quarters. Once inside, I pull off my tailored clothes with shaking hands and fish the much cruder set out from under Squeaker, because of course she’s made a nest on them. They’re wrinkled and covered in cat hair now, but if this is what Instructor Hawk wants, this is what Instructor Hawk gets.
I can’t believe I’m going to marry the grump. I’m an idiot. I tuck the ill-fitting blouse into the waist of the pants and wonder if I should just lick my wounds and retreat. Return to my father’s keep and…
And then what? Wait for a rival holder to come and behead me? Wait for someone to steal our lands and just pray they’re in a benevolent mood and send me to a convent instead? No, this is my only choice.
Annoyed at Hawk—and at myself for hesitating—I return downstairs, this time clad in a blouse that is far too tight across my bust and makes me look stout and matronly because the waist isn’t cinched. The pants barely fit over my backside and I suspect if I have to sit at any point, they’ll split. But I’m in the uniform he wanted. “Happy now?”
“Thrilled,” he says flatly. “Let’s get going. You have to be at registration in two hours.”
Hawk tosses a brown cloak over my shoulders and then puts one on himself. He pulls the hood up, his forward-pointing horns making the tent of fabric huge over his head, the tips just barely sticking out of the hem. Following his lead, I pull up my cloak hood as well, and head out the front door behind him.
Despite the early hour, the city is bustling. We head down the busy, crowded street, narrowly avoiding the contents of a chamber pot that someone empties above, and I trot after him. I keep close, because I don’t want him to use any excuse to call this off.
I’m a little surprised when he takes me to the nearest temple of Asteria. I thought that Taurians worshiped Old Garesh, the god of war and destruction. Perhaps he’s not the right god for a wedding, no matter if it’s Taurian or not. Hawk marches into the temple, his hooves echoing obscenely loudly on the floor. There’s a nun taking donations near the front altar, and he heads directly for her, pulling a small bag of coin from his waist. “I need a marriage, quickly. Get me a priestess.”
“Please,” I add politely, moving to his side and taking his arm.
“Hush now,” he tells me.
“If you’re going to demand things, at least have the decency to add a ‘please’ on the end. You’ll find people much more willing to deal with you.”
He lowers his hood, turning to give me an incredulous look. “Are you chiding me?”
I shrug. Perhaps he thinks he didn’t need chiding. On this, we’ll have to agree to disagree.
Hawk snorts, as if unable to believe his ears. I keep waiting for him to shrug my arm off, but he doesn’t. I guess it would ruin the fantasy of our hasty marriage if he did. The priestess arrives a few moments later, a puzzled expression on her lined face. “It’s the middle of the week, my dears. A marriage on the weekend, when the goddess is at rest, is a blessed marriage. Wouldn’t you rather wait?”
“No waiting.” Hawk sounds as gruff and cranky as ever.
“It needs to happen today,” I try to explain, a gracious smile on my face.
The priestess blinks at us and then leans in, confiding to me. “My dear, if you’re in a carrying sort of way, a few days won’t make a difference, and your child might need the goddess’s blessing more than anyone.”
I stare at her in horror. She thinks I’m pregnant? I glance up at Hawk in surprise, then back at the priestess. She’s ignoring Hawk as if he doesn’t exist, her gaze focused entirely on me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or be offended. I decide upon being offended, and pretend to lean in to confide back to her, my voice deliberately loud. “If I have to go another night without this virile buck in my bed, I shall scream. The wedding must happen today.”
She makes a distressed sound and somewhere behind her, I can hear the muffled giggle of a novice. “I see.” She composes herself and holds her hand out, and the novice puts the bag of money in her grip. “I suppose the goddess does love…ahem, love. Take your man’s hands and I will join you.”
“Wait,” I blurt out, looking up at Hawk. “Don’t we need witnesses?”
“The church registers all marriages,” he says.
“For another coin, you can have a lovely certificate to post over your home altar,” the priestess adds, putting her hand out for an additional coin.
Hawk hands it over without question, and I guess we’re about to be married.