Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
I think getting drunk sounds like the right call. Hopefully I can get drunk enough to pass out so I don’t have to stay up all night thinking about what tomorrow will bring. With my black repeater sash slung over my shoulder like a brand, I make my way through Sparkanos Square at the center of Vastwarren’s heart and ignore the men who catcall and make rude noises as I march past. They can give a repeater shit, but the moment I have a fledgling sash they’ll leave me alone.
Actually, they won’t. But it’s a step closer to respectability, and I’m used to men making arses out of themselves and me ignoring their efforts to get under my skirts.
The tavern doors open to the smell of beer and sweat, and the overbearing scent of raw onions. I wrinkle my nose as I enter, waving to Naiah behind the bar. Her expression brightens when she sees me, and she points at the back of the crowded room, knowing just who I headed here for. Sure enough, I spot the dark, curly hair of Mereden next to Lark’s bright blond, tangled hair. As I approach, I spot their repeater uniforms…and Lark’s foot propped up on a chair beside a large leaf-green slitherskin with a patched-up shell house strapped to his back. Kipp is here, too. “Well, isn’t this a treat?” I call out as I approach, delighted. “All we need is Aspeth and we’d have our Five from last year back together.”
Mereden gets up to hug me, the warm vanilla scent of her skin comforting. She’s been working in the guild kitchens and smells like pies and fresh bread every day. “There you are,” she exclaims, hugging me tight as if we haven’t seen each other for months instead of just a few days. “I was about to come after you.”
“I had to work late,” I tell them cheerfully. “You know what Mistress Umala is like.”
She and Lark groan obligingly. They do, in fact, know what Mistress Umala is like.
“Where’s Aspe—er, Sparrow?” I ask, looking around for my friend. “Did I miss her?”
“Research project running late,” Mereden says, settling on the far side of the table next to Lark again. She sets her hand atop the table and their fingers immediately intertwine. “She said she’d be by later.”
Aspeth says that a lot. It rarely happens, though. If a project runs late, it means she’s lost in her research and won’t look up until her husband, Hawk, comes to drag her to bed. I’d be annoyed except Aspeth is living the life she’s always dreamed of, so I’m happy for her.
Glancing down, I offer a fist for Kipp to bump, as slitherskins don’t like prolonged touching of humans, and he taps my knuckles with his knife, which means he’s feeling overstimulated enough that even a brief touch will be too much. Lark doesn’t get up to greet me, and her foot remains propped up in what I assumed was my chair. Now that I’m closer, I can see the linen bandages turning her foot into what looks like nothing more than a gigantic beige sausage. “What the muck happened here?”
“Tripped on a cobblestone,” Lark says with a grimace. “I wish I could say it was something more exciting, like a runaway horse, but no. I was carrying a crate across the courtyard for Master Grackle and my foot caught. You should have heard the snap.”
My jaw drops. “Today?”
“Today. Rotten timing, isn’t it?” Lark looks annoyed, but not devastated.
I thump into the only empty chair left. I’m the one who’s devastated. If Lark’s foot is broken, then that means she can’t become a fledgling, not this year. All the masters will be selecting their fledglings tomorrow. “Rather convenient timing,” I finally manage to say, “what with it being Master Grackle and all.”
Master Grackle is well-known amongst all the women who are employed by the guild for just how dismissive he is. I’d rather have a lech for a teacher than deal with one who treats me as if I’ve got no brain in my skull.
“It’s just the fact that I was hurrying,” Lark reassures me. “Wasn’t as if he tripped me or anything.”
“But recruitment day is tomorrow.” I’m whining about the obvious.
“I know. Guess that means I’m mucking stalls for another year.”
“Not with that foot,” Mereden replies tartly, leaning over to brush a lock of stray hair off Lark’s forehead. “Until it heals, I’ll put in a word for you with the healers. You’ll probably have to sterilize tools over a pot of water all day, but you can do it seated.”
Funnily enough, neither of them seems devastated about Lark’s broken foot. “You’re both taking this rather well.”
They exchange a look. Mereden is the first one to speak. “We thought we might try for a baby instead. Join the guild later.”