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)
His expression remains blank.
Just as well. He wouldn’t get it. He’s not Taurian. “Mating ritual. Once every five years. Unavoidable.”
“Ah. To appease the family, then?” His brows go up.
“Something like that.”
“And you trust her?” At my puzzled frown, he goes on. “We have reason to believe your new wife is either a very skilled antiquities thief or possibly a holder spy.”
When I sputter, he tells me of the game that afternoon. How Aspeth took a great deal of time to choose certain items, and how she’d chosen perfectly each time and corrected them on the third one. “She knew it was discharged. Either she was already in the know of that particular item or she reads glyphs.”
That makes me pause. “Only archivists and a few of the masters read glyphs.”
“Exactly.”
I know Magpie recognizes some of the more common glyphs, and I’ve learned to pick a few out, but the Old Prellian written language is complex and requires a great deal of study, which is why it’s only truly mastered by archivists, who aren’t active members of the guild for one reason or another.
“My question is, did she position herself with you in order to get an in with the guild?” He gives me a worried look. “Everyone knows that Magpie’s students tend to be a bit unorthodox. Perhaps she deliberately sought you out?”
I give my nose ring a tug before shaking my head. “I was the one who suggested we marry,” I lie, trying to calm the situation. But I think about that night, and how Aspeth and Gwenna showed up with an obviously drunken Lark and asked—no, demanded—to be students. Surely not. Surely they’re just two women who have decided to take on a particular challenge, and not spies. “If you want my opinion…”
“Please.”
“She’s not a spy. She’s a spoiled rich woman. She’s hinted before that her family comes from wealth, and she arrived with tailored guild clothes in expensive fabrics. She’s incredibly sheltered and her physicality is terrible. If she truly was a spy, they would have sent someone who would easily pass the physical tests. As it is, I’m going to have to work her hard to ensure that she doesn’t fail the basics.” At Tiercel’s slow nod, I continue. “It’s far more likely that her father spoiled her and purchased artifacts on the sly. You and I both know that some merchants love to acquire contraband. That could be why she recognized them.”
Tiercel nods again. “Most of the items she recognized seemed to be trinkets. You could be right. Who is her father, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t know.”
His expression darkens again.
I raise a hand in the air before he can go down the “spy” route again. “I will keep an eye on her, and the moment I find out anything, I’ll pass it along. But if you’re asking me if she’s dangerous, my answer is no. Not hardly. She’ll be lucky if she passes the guild tests at all. She might have scholarly knowledge, but you and I both know that it only gets you so far in a dark tunnel.”
He grunts, stepping aside. “You’re right. Perhaps I’m just panicking. You’ll alert the guild if you find out anything in particular?”
“You know I will.”
We shake hands again and then he leads me into a waiting room. Aspeth sits next to an enchanted reading lantern, her hands clasped in her lap, her lips pressed into a firm, unhappy line. I can feel Tiercel’s gaze on us so I move to Aspeth’s side and rub my muzzle against her forehead, pretending affection. “Come along, wife. You’ve caused enough trouble today.”
“Trouble?” she echoes, indignant. “I’ve caused no trouble!”
I take her by the arm and give Tiercel another knowing look, one that indicates I’m a man put-upon by a needy wife. Aspeth catches the look and makes another angry noise, jerking at my grip. She has every right to be annoyed at my expression, but I have to sell it to Tiercel so he doesn’t suspect anything.
Leading her out of the building, I don’t speak until we’re in the streets and I know for certain that there’s no artifact hidden in an alcove and capturing our conversation for the guild to spy upon. I sling my arm over her shoulder, and the lecher in me can’t help but notice that she fits under my arm perfectly, as if she were made to be a Taurian’s woman. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
She scoffs. “I don’t know. Do I? Or are you suspicious of me, too, simply because I can look past a shoddy paint job? Whoever made those artifact duplicates should be ashamed. Even a child could pick them out.”
“And yet no one else did except you,” I muse. “Every single time, if Master Tiercel is to be believed. Are you just amazingly lucky or is there something else I need to be aware of?”