Page 58 of By the Horns (Royal Artifactual Guild #2)

Forty-Three

Gwenna

Dere Ma,

I bear bad news. One of my fello students recently died and now our Five won’t be allowed to take the tests.

I’m going to be a repeeter again. It hasn’t hit me yet.

I will probably cry an entire bucket once I move back in with the other maids but for now, I’m managing.

I guess I’d better get used to washing windows again.

I hope you’re not working two hard. Say a prayer to Asteria for luck on my beehaf. I could use it.

Love, Gwenna

We return to the nest to wait for Rooster’s decision and try to get back to normal.

Except Hemmen is still dead, and our Five is now disqualified. Master Jay is depressed and doesn’t even bother with lesson plans for the rest of the week. “What’s the point? You’ll all be repeaters again, no matter how well you do.”

We’re left to our own devices.

Some of it’s good, I suppose. Raptor’s able to show me affection in front of Kipp and Arrod, and when we get back to the dorm the first night, he grabs my bed and slides it next to his, making one large bed for the two of us.

The look on his face dares anyone to say something, but no one does.

I think we’re all too focused on Hemmen’s empty bunk.

Kipp tries to get Arrod to practice his swordplay, but Arrod isn’t interested. He mopes in bed during the day and spends his nights at the taverns. Kipp goes with him because he doesn’t want Arrod to be alone, but Arrod is not happy about it.

I offer to go with them, but Raptor refuses. “You and I are staying here in the dorm, because that’s safest right now.”

This continues for three days, until I get tired of looking at Hemmen’s unmade bed.

No one’s touched it since that fateful day, and it bothers me to see it in such disarray.

The emptiness probably bothers me more, but the maid in me is controlling what she can.

I move to his section of the room and begin tidying, first making the bed and then going through his laundry.

“We’ll clean it and then send it home to his family,” I tell Kipp. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Kipp thumps his tail in obvious agreement. He dives under the bed to help, and then emerges a moment later. He makes a page-flipping motion and then shakes his head, running around in a circle and then displaying empty hands.

“Hemmen’s books? He had them with him,” I say, the knot catching in my throat again.

It’s not what Kipp is asking, though. He shakes his head at me and points a finger at various spots in the room, making the same page flip motion again.

“He says that Hemmen had a lot more books than what he had with him,” Arrod speaks up, sitting on the bed I’ve just freshly made.

“I know what he said,” I tell him irritably.

I’ve known Kipp longer than Arrod has. He doesn’t need to interpret for me.

“I’m just thinking.” I glance around the room.

Hemmen’s laundry is here, and his pack. His extra boots.

But there’s no sign of all the books he kept with him.

At any time, there’d be a stack on his bed, always borrowed from the library.

Just as laundry was ever-present on Arrod’s bunk, and Kipp’s shell is on his, Hemmen would have dozens of books littered about his personal area.

He only took one or two books with him to the tavern that day. Where did the rest go?

“Perhaps Marta took them all back to the library for us,” I finally say. “She likes to read, too.”

“Or maybe whoever killed Hemmen was leaving messages in his books.” Arrod jumps to his feet again, oblivious to the bed he just made a mess of. “He always had them with him, remember?”

Kipp folds his hands against his cheek.

“Right! He even slept with them.” Arrod snaps his fingers and points at me. “And someone wrote that nasty note about Gwenna in the library’s books.”

“You think the librarians have something to do with this?” I ask, surprised. I’m picturing the archivists who work at the guild’s library, and they’re all eighty if they’re a day.

Kipp frowns, then looks over at Arrod.

“Maybe not,” Arrod says slowly, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “But it seems Hemmen spent a lot of time at the library. I suppose we can ask if he met any suspicious characters there.”

“It’s as good a guess as any,” says Raptor from his spot on “our” bed. “You two should check it out. I’ll stay here with Gwenna.”

I shoot him a look.

Raptor just winks at me.

Kipp makes that weird lizardy coughing laugh.

“I assume we’re going to study,” I say in a tart voice as Arrod puts his shoes on and Kipp pulls his beaten-up shell onto his back and gives it a loving pat.

“So much studying,” Raptor agrees, tracing a finger on the coverlet.

“Oh gods, we need to get out of here quick, Kipp.” Arrod makes a gagging sound like he’s a twelve-year-old and not twenty-seven. Kipp races for the double doors, and Arrod is two steps behind him.

I arch a brow at Raptor. I’m not sure why he’s implying that we’re going to fuck, because there’s no time alone.

Marta is sweeping the hall, and Master Jay is moping in his study.

I haven’t felt neglected, though. He holds me close every night, stroking my arm and snuggling me against his larger form.

He constantly reassures me that he won’t let anything happen to me.

“I’ll burn the city down myself before I let them touch a hair on your head,” he told me last night as he caressed my cheek.

I don’t know how I managed to resist him for so long. Pure foolishness, I suppose. Now he’s my own personal obsession. I’m starting to crave his knot, and I ache inside every time he looks at me.

When the others are gone, I sit on the edge of the bed and give him a curious look. “You were quick to get rid of them.”

He grins up at me. “They don’t need to go where we’re going today.”

He has a plan. Interesting. “And where are we going today, hmm?”

“You and I are heading to visit a friend.” He sits up on the bed, swinging his legs over the side.

I’m a little disappointed we aren’t going to take this moment to indulge in horny fantasies. I suppose it’s not appropriate, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. “What sort of friend?”

“A potion maker.”

Of all the things I thought he’d say, that isn’t one. “What do you mean, a potion maker?”

“I mean she makes potions.”

I wrinkle my nose. Potion makers are charlatans who pop up in every town and village, peddling herbal remedies that never do what they claim. “Why would we do that?”

Raptor eyes me curiously. “I thought you’d be interested in how she manages her magic.”

Now he’s got me. “She has magic ?”

“Well, aye. What kind of potion maker did you think we were going to visit?”

“I don’t know, some old coot who tells you to drink a bottle of stagnant water with an herb floating in it or tells you to rub lemon rinds on your feet and charges you out the arse for their expertise. That kind.”

He waves a hand at that. “Those are fakes. This one makes real potions.”

“How, exactly?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out. You want to go or not?”

“I want to go. Absolutely. This person freely works as a mancer?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say freely. She’s quite expensive.” He chuckles. “I’ve been known to imbibe a few of her potions. They’re all that’s kept me sane over the last few years.”

“Potions? You? What for?” I’m surprised. Raptor seems to be brimming with health. He’s the most virile male I’ve ever met.

He grins at my incredulousness. “Such flattery. You know what it’s for.”

And he pats his groin.

Oh.

“For your knot ?” Why is that so scandalous? Why am I so titillated?

“Aye. It keeps me in a…heightened state, which is not beneficial during longer digs. I get cranky and impulsive and moody to be around. So…potions. I’ve been a customer of hers for many years.”

“What happens if you take one of her potions?”

“Nothing…which is exactly what I wanted. But I haven’t taken one in quite some time. Not since you and I started getting serious.”

I blush fiercely. Hannai’s rocky bosom, this male makes me act all girlish and giddy with a single look. “Well, just so you know, if you need help with anything”—I twirl a finger at his groin—“I’m more than happy to assist.”

“I’m going to take you up on that,” he tells me in a silky voice. There’s a scrape of furniture from the back of the house—Master Jay’s quarters—and then Raptor grimaces. “As soon as we get time alone, that is.”

I don’t say anything. Time alone is going to be a big problem that’s going to get worse.

Once Master Jay officially files with the guild that we’ve been disqualified, we’ll be sent back with the repeaters (and me with the nestmaids), and those long rooms with endless rows of beds are even less private than our quarters here.

It’ll be another half a year (and then some) before I get the chance to be a student again, and the more times you repeat, the worse you look.

I’m probably going to have to work for Mistress Umala again. Ugh. I scrub a hand down my face, forcing those thoughts away. “I don’t think time alone is going to be a thing in the near future.”

The smile he gives me is faint, wry. “Probably not.”

However annoying the lack of privacy is for me, it has to be worse for poor Raptor. “You need a potion, then?”

He rubs his chin. “Not yet, but you might.”

Me…?

To my surprise, we head to the King’s Onion tavern. Why is it that we keep ending up back here? I glance around curiously, but I don’t see anyone in the tavern who looks like a mancer or even a potion maker of some kind. Are we meeting someone who hasn’t arrived yet?

Raptor leads me to the bar and pulls out a stool for me.

“Are we stopping for a drink?” I ask, unable to hold it in any longer.

“In a sense.” He takes a seat next to me.

Naiah crosses over to us, slinging her rag over her shoulder. Her smile is bright as she flicks a glance at Raptor and then at me. “Afternoon to you both. What are we having?”