Chapter Eight
EIGHT
HAWK
25 Days Before the Conquest Moon
My new bride’s hands twitch in my sweaty grasp, her cuticles covered in tiny scabs from zealous overchewing. Her expression is bland and composed, but the twitching gives away her nerves. She’s as anxious about this marriage as I am, and when the priestess says the last of the matrimonial prayer, Aspeth breathes a sigh of relief and flashes me a quick smile that takes me aback and makes my tail flick.
I’m still thinking about earlier, replaying the moment in my head time and again when Aspeth realized the priestess was ignoring me. If I have to go another night without this virile buck in my bed, I shall scream. She made a fool of herself—and the priestess—simply to shut down any argument, and I know it was for my benefit.
It was…kind.
“There now. You are married in the eyes of the goddess,” the priestess is saying. Her gaze flicks over me dismissively and then focuses on Aspeth’s composed form once more. “No kiss of union is necessary.”
“Oh, we’ll kiss,” my new wife says cheerfully. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think we weren’t united.” And she puts a hand in the front of my clean, pressed guild shirt and pulls me down toward her. Before I can even think about how I’m going to fit my mouth to her flat-faced human one, she presses a smacking kiss on the leathery end of my nose. “There.”
She gazes up at me, and then impulsively reaches forward and gives me a quick hug.
“So it is done,” the priestess says, and there’s a hint of distaste in her voice. “Go with the goddess.”
“Our certificate, if you please.” Aspeth clings to my arm and beams at the woman as if she truly is the happiest of brides.
The priestess’s smile is tight. “Very well. However, I must say I’m not familiar with the ring ceremony of the Taurian people.” The look she gives me is pointed. “I’m afraid you will have to go elsewhere for that.”
“Ring ceremony?” Aspeth asks.
Five hells, I am not explaining that wedding custom to her. “We’re skipping it. Doing things the human way,” I say gruffly, and grab my new bride by the arm. “Hurry with that certificate. We’re on a tight schedule.”
The priestess hurries away, and Aspeth shoots me a curious look. “Should I inquire about the ring ceremony?”
In which she fits a ring around my cock and balls to show that she owns me, and I pierce her cunt with a matching (slightly smaller) one to show my side of fealty? It’s a tender ceremony. It also works a lot better with female Taurians, who are as superbly wide as they are strong. I can’t imagine it with Aspeth, who I feel nothing for but vague annoyance. I imagine pinching her cunt in my hand until her clit pokes free, and then piercing it with a ring to show she’s mine, and my cock stirs.
All right, I feel nothing but vague annoyance and a hint of moon-related arousal. “Don’t ask about the rings.”
She nods, and we drop it.
A brief time later, we have the certificate and hurry back to Magpie’s dormitory. Inside, it’s all chaos, as I knew it would be. The students are in the kitchen in varying stages of readiness. Lark is hungover, her head on the table, her hair in her face. The tiny priestess who arrived last night is in uniform, but she also looks ready to cry as she argues with Lark about who is in charge. She clutches prayer beads tightly in her hands and all but falls to her knees when we return. Aspeth’s companion is busy ironing her shirt, wearing nothing but a chemise as she leans over the stove in the kitchen. There are two other pots on the stove, both bubbling over and hissing. The slitherskin is the only calm one, dressed in a tiny uniform, his small hands tucked at his waist, but he’s wearing his enormous house on his back despite my repeatedly telling him not to.
To top it off, there’s a strange fat orange cat in the center of the table, eating the last of the salted pork.
“Where’s Magpie?” I growl, trying not to lose my temper at the chaos.
“Where she always is,” Lark says, grinding the heel of her palm into her eye socket. “Sleeping it off.”
My temper flares just a bit more. I make up for Magpie’s lack a lot of the time, but fledgling initiation is one of those times when she needs to be there. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s still soused, but I am definitely growing more and more annoyed with every moment that passes. It’s up to me to take care of things yet again, and make excuses for her. Even though I owe Magpie my life and would willingly work at her side for the rest of my days, it’s hard to remain loyal when she doesn’t even bother to do the bare minimum.
Jaw clenched, I tug on my nose ring. It’s a twitchy habit, like humans biting their nails. Now, do I wake her up, knowing there will be a scene? That she’ll likely scare these students off before they ever start their training? The last time I dragged Magpie along with her students against her will, she bitched the entire time, vomited in someone’s pack, and passed out on the obstacle course and had to be carried home. I heard about it from the other Taurians for weeks on end.
It’s fine, I remind myself. Everything is fine. I can handle this. If Magpie wants to sleep, she can mucking sleep. I’ll take over her duties like I always do. “Let’s just get going.”
They ignore me. Lark continues to rub her head. The priestess starts another prayer, her lips moving as she passes the beads through her folded fingers. The slitherskin continues to eat his breakfast, ignoring the chaos around him. The woman ironing her blouse by the stove holds her top up, admiring the pleats, and Aspeth moves to her side. “Oh, that’s nice work. Can you do mine next?”
“No,” I say quickly. “No more ironing. It’s time to go.” I grab the priestess by her collar—at least she’s dressed—and haul her to her feet. “You. Get shoes. You by the stove, get your clothes on. Lark, get rid of the cat.”
Aspeth sputters, turning to look at me. “No one is getting rid of the cat—”
I ignore her and point at the slitherskin. “You, take your house off. You need to leave it behind.”
The lizard-creature takes one look at me, blinks one eyelid, and returns to eating. He does not, in fact, take off the oversized shell house he has attached to his back. He doesn’t even bother to tug on one of the straps. He just ignores me, too. At least Guillam will listen—
I pause. “Where in the five hells is Guillam?”
“Left this morning,” Lark offers, struggling to her feet and picking up the cat. “Said he didn’t want to be with a bunch of women and a frog. No offense to you, Kipp.” She adjusts the fat cat in her arms and frowns at the cat hair that floats into the air. “How often do you brush this monster?”
“Every day,” Aspeth tells her. “She’s just a shedder. And did you hear that, Instructor Hawk? Guillam left and now we’re back to five. This is perfect.”
I stare at my team of fledglings for the new season. At the half-dressed woman with perfect pleats in her blouse. At the weepy priestess and the drunk niece of my boss. At the slitherskin who ignores me.
At my new wife .
This is a nightmare, and Aspeth’s pleasure at finding Guillam to be gone is getting on my last nerve.
I downgrade her from “sexually intriguing but vexing” back to just “vexing” again.
ASPETH
“It gives me great pride to welcome the newest class of fledglings to the Royal Artifactual Guild.” Rooster beams at us from his spot behind an ornate wooden podium. He stands taller than the podium, which makes me suspect he’s standing on a box of some kind. “On behalf of King Kethrin III, we look forward to working with you and training you to join our ranks.”
My heart wants to burst with excitement. I tremble in my seat in the audience, thrilled to my core. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. I don’t care who I have to marry, or train with, or where I have to sleep. I’m going to be trained to be a guild member. I’m going to save my hold. I’m going to—
“You’d think he’s handpicked all of us with that tone of voice,” Gwenna says, leaning over to my side. “Acts like he’s the king.”
“Hush,” I whisper to her. While Rooster is a little pompous (or rather, a lot), I don’t blame him for taking pride in the welcoming ceremony. It’s an important moment in our lives to be added to the roster of fledglings, the trainees who will live in the guild nests (such a clever name!) and work with the guild masters to learn the craft.
“Once you are signed into the fledgling lists, there is no backing out.” Rooster casts a stern look over the audience. “You will either pass your test or fail. Fail, and you will become one of the guild repeaters. You will work with the guild, performing menial tasks and paying off the lessons squandered until another guild master decides to let you fledge again.”
Gwenna pinches my leg, leaning over. “What’s a repeater?”
“He just said. Someone who fails out—”
“Yes, but what do they do? What tasks is he talking about?”
I think for a moment, trying to recall what I read in the pamphlets and books about the guild. “There are guards, and each house has an assigned nestmaid who takes care of the food and laundry—”
“Wait, so if I fail, I become a maid again, except this time I don’t get paid? Aspeth! What in all the mucking hells—”
At my other side, Kipp the slitherskin hisses loudly. We both turn to him and he glares sternly at us, putting a finger to his mouth to indicate silence. Then…he licks his eyeball.
Right. I put a finger to my lips and give Gwenna a meaningful look. “You’re not going to be a repeater,” I promise her. “We’re going to pass.”
She growls at me. Growls. I’m guessing she’s not going to want a hug after this. It’s a shame, because I’m so excited to be here that I want to hug everyone. Even Rooster, if he came close enough. Commoners hug, don’t they? Surely it wouldn’t be too out of line.
I continue smiling as Rooster drones on about guild history and the Mancer Wars, and how the guild was established by the king three hundred years ago. I know all this, so I focus on my teammates instead. Lark’s head bobs, her eyes closed as if she’s at prayers. She looks truly focused, and I’m so delighted to see that…until she leans too far forward and snores. At her side, Mereden the priestess nudges her, the look on her face studiously polite. She stares ahead, her gaze focused intently on Rooster at his podium.
My gaze slides past them to the next row, where a male fledgling about my age is looking over at us. Our eyes meet, and then he makes an obscene gesture at me with his tongue. Flustered, I look away. Good gods.
“As your teachers and mentors, the guild masters expect three things from each fledgling,” Rooster continues. “Curiosity. Eagerness. Honesty. Let me tell you a little bit about each one and why it matters.”
Gwenna leans toward me again. “Do you think he’s going to go on for much longer?”
I bite back a grimace, because I truly don’t know. Already he’s been up there for quite some time. The people on the benches in front of us are drooping, and I suspect more than one is nodding off, just as Lark was. “Possibly? He hasn’t touched on the guild handbook yet.”
She groans quietly. “How is it that he’s making grave robbing sound so boring?”
I shoot her a frown. “It’s not grave robbing, Gwenna!”
“Call it what you like.” Gwenna shrugs, and then lifts her chin, indicating something across the aisle. “Think we’ll have to deal with a lot of that here?”
A quick look finds yet another man, this one younger, making lewd licking motions with his tongue and aiming his attention at Mereden, who is steadfastly ignoring him.
“Goddess, I hope not,” I mutter. Here I’d thought that once we were let in as fledglings, we’d be seen as just a few more guild recruits.
Perhaps I’ve been far too optimistic.
HAWK
“You married her?”
At the back of the main guild hall, Raptor looks at me as if I’ve grown another head. I understand. It’s an absolutely insane move for me to make. I’m still not entirely sure why I did it. Probably thinking with my little head. I pretend to keep my focus on my fledglings, several rows ahead at the front of the hall. They’re sitting with nineteen other guild teams, waiting to be initiated. “We needed a full team. And I need a partner for the Conquest Moon.”
“But…her? The bossy one?” He stomps his hooves in agitation, idly watching the ceremony. “I thought you couldn’t stand her.”
“I needed students. She needs a chaperone. We’ll go our separate ways after this if we need to, get the marriage annulled. I don’t know why it’s a big deal.”
He looks over at me with that “are you insane” expression again. “You’re joking, right? No one’s going to grant you an annulment after it’s very clear that you rutted her. And if you have to marry a human, why that one? No one takes her seriously. No one takes us seriously, either. Any reputation you had left is going to be shredded by that woman clinging to your arm. Did Magpie talk you into this?”
I scoff. “No.”
But it’s true that Magpie takes in all kinds that don’t pass. There have been women who showed up on recruitment day but didn’t last a week. Most didn’t make it through the training, either from harassment from the male fledglings or simply because the job itself is too dangerous and unpleasant. Magpie is a sucker for a female student, but the truth is that most can’t hack it like she does. Or did. The current Magpie wouldn’t get ten steps underground without sucking on a bottle of liquor.
“Bad, bad idea, my friend” is all Raptor says, arms crossed.
I know it’s a bad idea. I don’t need him weighing in on it. I ignore his headshake of disappointment, pretending interest as Master Finch brings his five chosen fledglings to the front of the room so they can be inducted into the book of names. The five names are recorded at the beginning of the year, and when the students graduate, those names are crossed out and replaced with their chosen guild names. It’s all very pompous and self-congratulatory, but that might be the Taurian side of me speaking. We hate fuss. Finch guides his students to the book of names and watches as they sign it. My students are toward the back of the hall, in one of the last rows, so I’m hoping things are cleared out before I have to go up there with them.
It should be Magpie doing that, but she hasn’t yet appeared. She swore she’d dress and show up in time for the ceremony, but we’ve been here for hours now and there’s no sign of her. Something tells me that she headed for the nearest bar instead, and I tamp down my feelings of frustration. She’ll show up. She has to.
I eye the doorway, but it’s empty.
Class after class heads toward the book and signs their names in, receiving their official fledgling pin from Rooster as they do. As the room clears out, the smirks and nudges become more obvious, and they’re all directed toward my students. I know what they see when they look at the bench for Magpie’s house. They see four women in varying degrees of softness—led by Aspeth, who has her chin in the air as if she rules the place—and a slitherskin (who is still wearing his house, much to my irritation). We’re a joke to them.
I can’t even be mad at the snickers they make. I look at them and I see another year that we won’t have a passing class. I see another chance for commissions going up in smoke. I look at them and I wonder which one is going to peel off first, ruining the season for the others. A passing class must have five.
“The fledgling class of Master Magpie,” Rooster calls out.
My students get to their feet, and despite the fact that the room is nearly empty, the whispers grow louder.
Raptor grunts. “Mmm. I’m starting to get it now.” I huff, torn between amusement and sheer annoyance at Aspeth again. She’s wearing her guild uniform, but it doesn’t fit her the way it fits the others. Her ample backside pulls the fabric tight, outlining her rump right down to a dimple in one plump cheek. When she turns to the side, her tits strain against the guild blouse, and Raptor makes another fascinated sound. “Maybe you can gag her when she talks.”
I elbow him. “That’s my wife, you clod-brain.”
“Rut her good, my friend.” He claps me on the back so hard that I stagger past him and the other Taurians remaining at the back of the hall.
They chuckle as I move forward, crossing the long hall to stand at my students’ side.
“Guild Master Magpie?” Rooster calls again, searching the room as he stands behind the massive book. “Is Guild Master Magpie here?”
I clear my throat, moving to stand in front of the podium. “Guild Master Magpie is sick. I’ll sign the book in her place.”
Rooster’s lip curls at me, as if he’s offended by the sight of a Taurian standing in front of him. “You’re not a guild master. Where is Guild Master Magpie?”
“Like I said, sick.” His lips thin further, and I have no doubt he’s thinking of the last two classes, when I presented them, too. I continue on. “I’ll present her class and she’ll be here for graduation.”
Even if I have to haul her bodily in front of the guild itself, she’ll be here.
He takes a deep breath, as if considering, and then holds the feathered quill out to me. I sign the book with Magpie’s name, the quill ridiculously small and fragile in my too-large Taurian hand. I manage not to snap it, and then turn to hand it off to the first student in line.
It’s Aspeth, of course.
“I assume all these females have chaperones?” Rooster continues in that haughty voice of his. “You can provide proof of this?”
“They do and I can.”
He eyes us and then gestures for Aspeth to sign. I’ve never seen a student so giddy to put their name in the book as her, only to pause over the book itself and then look at me. “What’s our last name?”