I grunt, still annoyed. Aspeth’s no longer part of the guild—they made that quite clear. If he harasses her even a little, he’s going to find my hoof in his arse.
But my wife digs around in a drawer, looking for a magnifying glass and carefully holding what looks like a hand-sized harp on a stick—the sistral—in her other hand. After she finds the glass, she makes another frustrated noise at the shadows. “It’s too dark in here.”
Sighing, I pull an unlit candle from its wall sconce and bring it to the desk, then light it and set it in a holder. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you, love.” She peers down at the sistral with the magnifying glass, and I try not to preen at being called “love” in front of another. Ridiculous. I’m not some green lad in love for the first time, and yet my ears twitch and I catch myself beaming at my wife as she works.
Because she’s mine.
“Oh dear,” she says after a moment.
“What? What is it?” the archivist asks.
Aspeth straightens and turns to him, biting her lip. “I’m sorry, did you say that you’re shipping this out to Lord Besral in the morning?” When he nods, she winces. “I’m sorry to tell you, but I believe this is a fake.”
“A fake?” He sputters, though the sound isn’t all that convincing, and my hackles go up. “What do you mean?”
“Do you see this glyph?” She pulls the magnifying glass out and holds it over the sistral’s handle, pointing at a tiny triangular shape with her pinky finger. “It’s the correct glyph, but the proper usage would have it after the descriptor, not before….”
She trails off as Archivist Kestrel begins to chuckle, clasping his hands in delight. Her gaze flicks to me.
“It’s a fake,” Kestrel hoots with delight. “You are quite correct!”
“You seem rather excited about that,” Aspeth says, expression careful. “Lord Besral—”
Kestrel waves a hand in the air. “It’s not being shipped out. I was lying. I just wanted to test you one last time before I was certain.” He looks absolutely thrilled. “It is indeed a fake and I should know; I created it for training purposes.”
Aspeth’s gaze slides to me again. “I don’t understand. Why bring it here now? It’s almost midnight.”
I shrug, because I’m puzzled as well.
“Because I have to offer first!” The archivist reaches for Aspeth, and when I growl low, recoils again. He clasps his hands in front of him once more. “I want you to join us. We are not part of the guild officially, but we are employed by them. We take each uncovered artifact and record it and its purpose, and we study the ones that are mysteries. We look for ways to fix the broken ones, and work with the lord holders when they wish to acquire a magical artifact. We write treatises upon the artifacts in our care and train the guild’s fledglings on how to properly spot a fake. I cannot think of anyone who would be better for archiving than you, Lady Aspeth.”
Aspeth’s eyes grow wide as he speaks. She looks at me again, excitement on her face, and then back at the archivist. “But…I’ve been forbidden…the guild…”
“You have been forbidden to join the guild, yes. No one said anything about the archivists. We are the ones who find ourselves not quite right for guild work, the ones who would rather study all day long instead of climbing through tunnels. We work in the guild hall and in the libraries, doing recordkeeping instead of excavating. As for the guild…Rooster himself recommended I come here this evening to speak my piece before others arrive.”
Rooster did? I shouldn’t be surprised. Even though he’s overfond of politics, he always looks out for the guild, and the archivist is right—Aspeth would be an amazing archivist.
“It sounds like a dream,” Aspeth breathes, and then pauses. “Wait, you said others are going to arrive? What others?”
Archivist Kestrel shakes his hands in the air with excitement. “Why, all the others, dear lady! Ever since that day in the artifact training room, word of your skills and knowledge has spread around Vastwarren. Every black-market merchant is going to be looking for ways to pay you to assist them, and every forger is going to want you. That’s why I had to come here in the middle of the night. I had to get here before you agree to work for any of them. I would love to work alongside you, lady. I truly mean that.”
Her lips part, and Aspeth’s soft expression is gorgeous to see. It makes me ache, because now I want this for her. “I…I would stay here with Hawk, yes? I’m not going to leave my husband’s side.”
“Of course. It’s a short walk from here to the archives. You will sleep in his bed every night, unlike a guild explorer.” Then he colors red, as if he realizes what he’s just said. “I mean…”
“She knows what you mean,” I say dryly. “Well, Aspeth?”
Her eyes wide, she nods. “Yes, of course. I would love to.”
“Splendid!” The archivist races forward and hugs Aspeth, then skitters away again. “I’m sorry! That wasn’t well done of me! I’m just excited! You should see the things we have in the archives that are waiting to be deciphered and recorded. There are so many who can’t read Old Prellian quite as well as me and I don’t trust their interpretations, and I could truly use another set of hands and—” He gives a full-body shiver. “This is so very exciting!” He bounces toward the door, then pauses and scrambles back toward the desk. “Could I retrieve the sistral…? It’s the best fake I have.”
“Oh, of course.” She helps him box it back up.
When he clutches the box again, he beams at her once more. “I will return in the morning with the official guild contracts. You won’t accept anyone else, will you? I’ll insist that your salary be the equivalent of any man’s.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” she promises him.
“Then I will return at dawn!”
With that, the excitable archivist races back out into the night, leaving me amused and Aspeth dazed.
“Congratulations, little bird,” I say to my wife. “It’s not quite guild work but—”
“It’s better,” she blurts out, pressing her hands to her mouth. “Oh, I don’t mean that. It’s just…I think I’m vastly more suited for studying and analyzing than sleeping in tunnels and prying rings off the dead. I’ve felt so very guilty about everything in the crypt, Hawk. I don’t think I could do it, even if I wanted to.”
“Well, now it’s decided. You’ll work in the archives by day and come home to my bed every night,” I tease.
She lets out another girlish squeal and then flings herself into my arms again. “Oh, Hawk! This is wonderful! I shall need new spectacles! Two pairs, at least! And more books! And—”
Her giddy delight fills me with joy. “And save it for the morning, sweetheart. There’s time enough. For now, you need to relax. It’s been a long day.”
“The longest,” she agrees, sagging against me. Then she pauses. “Do you suppose his name really is Kestrel? Is he like Lark and named after a bird?”
I snort. “No, the archivists take bird names as well.” I lift her chin and kiss her on the mouth, and I think I’m getting better at this with practice. “You can be Sparrow after all.”
“Your Sparrow!” she cries triumphantly. Then she pauses. “Don’t hawks hunt sparrows?”
“They devour them.”
Heat flares in her gaze. “Sounds lovely.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” And I lock the door behind me, then carry my wife back to our quarters. The future will have a lot of changes—there’s an archivist to be inducted into her work, and a guild master who’s going to need fledglings. There are repeaters—Gwenna, Kipp, and the others—to get settled.
There’s a Taurian ring ceremony that needs to happen.
But all of that can wait until the morning.
Tonight—and every night thereafter—Sparrow is mine.
