Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
CLAUDIA
It’s a good thing Minerva has a large stock of pens, ink, and paper in her apartment, because I wouldn’t have gotten any work done on my story collection if she didn’t.
She has a decent stockpile of food in her cupboards, plus a barrel of water for drinking and bathing, so it’s day three before I even have to leave to get supplies.
Despite her worries of exhausting me, she actually spends a large amount of time during the day sleeping, while the nights are hot marathons of trying out the various ways two extremely different species can get each other off.
I sleep plenty, too, but when I’m awake and she’s not, I write.
By the time her scent returns to normal, I’ve very nearly finished the collection.
I take an afternoon off to visit the public baths with her, enjoying a long soak while she rolls around in the dust baths and then settles in for a preening session.
Then we both return to the library: Minerva to fret over her ever-growing queue of manuscripts to copy, and I to collect the rest of my writings so I can finally compile the entire volume.
The following day, I wake early to bring the manuscript to Balexonia Press.
Scipio eagerly accepts the thick stack of paper and tells me that the formally bound copies will be ready in a month, after which they can start distributing the individual stories as flimsy paper-bound serials.
“We’ll put your cut of the profits aside and have it ready for you whenever you visit town,” he promises.
“I have a feeling it will be often,” I say, ignoring the pang I feel at the idea of leaving Minerva even for a few weeks.
When I get back to the inn, I find a pigeon-message waiting for me.
Cassian writes that he and Eudora really miss me and would love to have my company on a new expedition they’re planning.
They’ll be voyaging to some northern island rumored to harbor an endangered population of mammoths.
Apparently, they’re escorting a team of botanists and biologists with very little experience in the wilds, and they could really use my help protecting the group from any potential predator threats.
They’ll be there for three months.
It sounds amazing, and I want to go with almost my whole being…minus my heart. Which I’d be leaving here.
Crumpling the message into my pocket, I gather up the writing supplies that I borrowed from Minerva and head to the library to return them.
Barging into her scriptorium doesn’t have the same naughty thrill as it did the first few times.
I think wistfully back to our first few interactions, how fun it was to rile her up and make her huff with annoyance.
Now, she looks up from her work and her eyes light up, but gods curse it, that’s even better.
I can’t leave.
But I’ll be miserable if I stay. Not with her, of course. But I’ll regret missing out on another adventure, and I’m afraid that it’ll make me start to resent Minerva. Not that she’d ever deserve it.
She deserves a life of peace and safety after all she’s been through.
For once, the words won’t come. So I simply hand her Cassian’s letter and watch as she reads it.
When she’s done, she looks up, and the light’s gone out of her eyes. Her head feathers droop. “You’re leaving.”
I cup her cheek with my palm. “Not because I want to. Gods, the last few weeks have been…I don’t want you to think I’m running away from you, Minerva, because I’m not. I just…I have to…”
“I understand,” she says softly. “This is who you are. Always has been. It shines through in every one of your stories. You love that life. I won’t get in the way of your dream.”
Closing my eyes, I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
ONE WEEK LATER
“What happened to you in Balexonia City?” Eudora asks in an undertone. We’re watching the biologist team load crates of supplies onto the ship, assisted by a sailor team of hadrosaurs. “You’ve been weird and quiet since you got back. Is everything all right?”
I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell Cassian and Eudora about Minerva, but every time I try to explain, the words stick in my throat.
I miss her so much, it’s almost a physical ache in my chest. Even though all three of us are excited about this journey, I’ve lain awake every night and thought about running back to the Great Library, breaking into the scriptorium, and throwing myself into her arms.
It’ll only be a few months. Then you can go back and see her. Your book will even be done by then. That’s what I keep telling myself, but it doesn’t soothe the ache at all.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
“Well, if you ever need to talk…” Eudora lets the offer hang for a moment, waiting to see if I’ll take her up on it. Then she pats me on the shoulder with her wingclaw.
I heave a sigh and approach the botany team, intending to offer to help load their stuff. If I stay busy, I can’t think about Minerva, right?
“Hey there, Rufus,” I call to the lead botanist. “Need any help with—”
The stegosaur turns toward me and says, “Oh, hello, Claudia! Yes, this is one of our guides. Claudia, meet our last-minute hire, an artist who’s going to be compiling a book of plant species for us. Her name is—”
My jaw drops as Rufus steps out of the way and reveals a familiar feathered form. “Minerva?”
Rufus rears his head back in surprise. “You two know each other?”
I’m running to her before I even consciously decide to move. I throw my arms around her neck and bury my face in her feathers, inhaling her ink-and-rain scent. “You’re here! Why are you here?”
“The city felt too quiet and lonely without you,” says Minerva. Her feathered arms pull me in, locking me under her long chin. “I thought I could use a change of pace.”
“But…” I pull back to look her in the eye. “You love the city. The library. It’s your home. I can’t take you away from that.”
“You’re not. I’m not leaving it forever,” Minerva says.
“I asked to take a sabbatical. The library is very interested in the work these scientists are doing, and when I pitched the idea of going along as a representative to record the expedition’s findings, the head librarian jumped at the opportunity. ”
“But your copying queue…”
“I put Alexander to work on it,” she says mischievously. “He needs to practice his penmanship.”
“You know it’s not going to be easy,” I warn. “The wilds can be dangerous. Bad weather, choppy water, pred—”
“You were not just going to say predators.” Minerva glares at me. “I may be a librarian now, but have you forgotten how I grew up? I can defend myself. And anyone else who might be in danger.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I stroke the side of her neck, giddy with relief that she’s here. For at least three months, we get to be together. After that…who knows?
Plans can be rearranged, after all.