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)
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.