Page 74 of By the Horns (Royal Artifactual Guild #2)

“Ugh,” Arrod says loudly, interrupting my sexy fantasies. “Does everyone have a mate here but me?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Yes,” Sparrow and Hawk say.

Mereden just nods, rocking her daughter in her arms, and gives Lark another quick kiss.

Kipp looks at Vik. Vik licks her eyeball, whatever that means. It makes Kipp happy, though. He moves and presses his belly to hers, slithering up and down against her smaller form, and for a moment, the only sign of the two slitherskins is the two shell houses bouncing against each other.

“Should we cover the children’s eyes?” Mereden whispers.

“It’s only a greeting,” Lark says. “But…maybe. And anyway, you’re just jealous, Arrod.”

Arrod’s face is screwed up like he’s a toddler who just found a bug in his soup. “Why would I be jealous? I can kiss as many women—or men!—as I want now. It’s going to be so easy to get laid now that I’m an official artificer.” He smooths a hand down his sash. “Artificer Cardinal, at your service.”

Raptor leans in. “Cardinals are vain and dumb little shits. It fits.”

“Hush.” I giggle. Arrod is all right. I mean, he is vain, and a bit unintellectual, but he’s got a good heart.

We can’t all be sharp. Gods know I still struggle with reading, though my lettering is getting better.

As for Old Prellian? Forget it. I’m lucky that Raptor recognizes most of the basic symbols, because the glyph language still eludes me.

Master Jay comes over to our celebrating group, his arms spread wide. “My students! My Five! I couldn’t be prouder.”

“Because you get a percentage,” Raptor says, giving our teacher a feral grin.

“Because this year has been hard on all of us,” Jay continues, ignoring Raptor’s teasing. “There are some classes you know will breeze through training, and others you know are doomed to fail.”

Kipp flicks a hand on his shoulder, as if tossing something aside. Then he shakes his head.

“And you thought we were doomed to fail?” Arrod jokes.

“No. I thought I’d never met a messier Five, but I’ve also never met a more stubborn one. I figured that would carry you all through, and I’m glad to see I was right.”

I’m glad there’s no “even the women” comment.

I know both Lark and I weren’t expected to pass.

The guild is incredibly sexist, and while they might look down on Kipp for being a slitherskin, he’s still more palatable to them because he’s male, whereas Lark and I are considered freaks for daring to step foot where men do.

We had to train twice as hard for our solo tests, because we’d be graded more harshly.

For the last few months, Lark and I have lived on that obstacle course after hours, practicing everything we could (luckily the kids looked at the obstacle course as a playground, so we were able to run it repeatedly).

We studied twice as hard as Arrod. We worked with Sparrow on recognizing Prellian architecture and paint styles and maps of the old city.

Even then, it was still too close for my taste.

I’d had a judge on my solo test that made me do a second round because he “wasn’t satisfied” with my performance.

Luckily for me, my second round was locating an artifact hidden in the training tunnels, and I passed that with flying colors and quelled any arguments the old bird might have had.

I could have had the dead just point me to a Greater Artifact and cheated my way through, but it wouldn’t have felt right. I wanted to prove myself worthy.

It’s always going to be an uphill battle to get respect, but I’m lucky that I have a big, protective, growly Taurian at my side who demands that everyone treat me equally.

“It sounds to me like dinner is on Master Jay’s coin,” Raptor declares, pulling me from my musing.

“Absolutely,” Jay says, beaming at us. “My treat. I know just the place.”

Arrod groans. “I bet it involves onions.”

“It does,” Jay replies. “Let’s get you lot in the Book of Names so we can properly celebrate.”

My stomach quivers with excitement. There’s a crowd by the guild chronicler and the Book of Names, and a priestess of Asteria, who’s blessing each artificer as they record their new moniker.

Rooster stands nearby, puffed up with importance and in his finest clothing, but it doesn’t bother me today.

It seems appropriate, in a strange way, that he should bluster and shake hands as if he’s a king passing out knighthoods. It feels like we’ve earned it.

Raptor notices my nervousness and nuzzles my neck again, and then gives me a not-so-subtle nudge toward the line of people.

I step in behind Arrod, waiting for my turn, my nerves fluttering.

By the time the feather pen is handed to me, I’m so nervous I want to vomit, and my forehead is beading with sweat.

The guild chronicler gives me that gentle smile, the same one he did last night when I’d first lobbed my name out there. “Will you sign the book, Artificer?”

Artificer. Me.

Satisfaction surges through me, chasing away my nerves.

I lift my chin, nod, and take the feather quill from him.

Painstakingly, I cross out my old name and write my new one in the Book of Names.

It’s symbolic, of course, of the end of our old lives and the beginning of our new ones.

I’m in a daze as I set the quill down. The priestess blesses me.

Rooster shakes my hand. Someone else does, too, but I don’t know who they are.

Then I turn and my mate is there. My big, pale Taurian with a look of such intense pride on his face as he gazes down at me.

Gods, I love him so much.

“Artificer,” he greets me formally as I move back toward him. “It’s done now.”

“I can’t believe it. Two years, and now I really am an artificer.” I press my hand to my belly, as if clutching the corset under my clothing will somehow shore up my suddenly weak knees. “What…what happens now?”

“Well, now we go and have dinner and drinks with Jay,” Raptor tells me, putting his familiar, heavy arm over my shoulders.

He tucks me in against his side, and it’s like I’ve always belonged there.

“Tomorrow we put in for housing. We meet with our Five and decide if we want to stay together as a Five or hire out as artificers-on-standby until we can get a permanent Five.”

Right. I know that. “We’ll stick together. We all work well as a team.”

“Aye, I don’t think anyone’s in a hurry to peel off. Not when you’ve got such a skill with dowsing .” He says the word in a low voice, his dry tone full of amusement. We’ve been covering up my mancing as me being “skilled” with dowsing if anyone asks.

“So that’s it?” I ask.

“That’s it,” my Taurian agrees, gazing down at me as if he could devour me whole. “Now we get to work, my pretty little Starling.”

I like my name quite a bit when he says it like that.