Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
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.