“Or not,” Mereden says.

Magpie caps the waterskin and slings the strap over her shoulder. “ ‘Wren’ is a nice, unassuming name. ‘Chickadee’ might be too feminine for all the cock-swinging you’ll have to endure with the guild itself. Luckily enough, these names aren’t taken. If I had a coin for every swaggering man who wanted to call himself ‘Raven’ I’d be rich.”

“Or ‘Hawk,’ ” I blurt out immediately, thinking of him.

“What about Hawk?” Magpie asks, and all eyes turn to me.

“Yes, what about Hawk?” he says, chiming in, his gaze on me.

My face flushes hot. “I mean, it’s just a common name, you know? Very masculine. I’m sure a lot of men want that sort of name. Something with a lot of swagger and testosterone. Not that it doesn’t suit you. It does. You’re very masculine. Very suited for something that aggressively male.” I pause, realizing that my words might make it seem as if Hawk is the type to beat me in private if I keep using words like aggressive. “Not aggressively male in a bad way. I just mean—”

“Go on,” he continues, his mouth drawing up in an amused smile. “Please continue to extoll my masculinity.”

If my face got any hotter, it’d be aflame. “I mean, it’s just very lucky that you managed to get the name that’s perfect for you. You would think it wouldn’t be available.”

“So you think it’s perfect for him?” Mereden’s voice is so sweet. “That’s adorable.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You did.” Hawk is giving me the most hard-to-read look. I can’t tell if he’s choking on laughter or just wants the conversation to end. “As for the name, it was timing. I knew the old Hawk. When he passed, I put in for the name first. I could have just as easily been ‘Goose.’ ”

“ ‘Goose’?” I sputter, forgetting we have an audience. “Oh, you’re far too masculine for something like ‘Goose.’ ”

“She sure keeps saying ‘masculine’ a lot,” Lark mock-whispers to Mereden.

Goddess, I’m just making things worse. “Kipp,” I blurt instead, trying to distract. “What about you? What name do you want?”

The slitherskin shrugs, touching the tip of his tongue to his eyeball, and then moves to Magpie’s side and pats a hand on her. The message is clear. She can pick it.

“Something clever and quick,” Magpie says. “ ‘Swift,’ maybe.”

He nods, and I suspect he’s pleased.

Lark snaps her fingers. “I just thought of the perfect name for Mereden!”

The once-priestess perks up. “Oh?”

“ ‘Swallow’!”

Mereden throws a stick at Lark while we all try desperately not to laugh.

Time around the fire is nice. It’s pleasant to laugh together and relax, to talk about our hopes and tease one another about names. We linger for an hour or two, until Magpie pushes us off to bed. “Enough gossiping. Tomorrow’s going to be a tiring day. You’ll need your strength. Get some sleep.”

We head off, and for the first time in hours, Hawk approaches me. He puts a hand to the small of my back, guiding me to the tent we’ll be sharing. My face scorches again, as I suspect everyone is staring at us. I bite my lip as I duck into our lodgings. “Your tent is bigger than the others.”

“Taurians are bigger than humans.”

So they are. I’ve noticed Hawk has distinctly…nonhuman proportions on certain parts of his anatomy. His thighs are absolutely enormous and nothing but rock-hard muscle. His biceps are as thick around as my thigh, and I’m not a small woman. Of course he’d need a larger tent.

I lie down on the pallet—a guild-issue pad to make sleeping on rock a little more bearable and a matching scratchy wool blanket—and Hawk settles his big body next to mine, dominating the narrow space. I’m intensely aware of how big he is now that we’re pressed close together, and the sheer size of his head and horns. His shoulders are huge, too, and he turns on his side, getting comfortable.

He leans in, his muzzle near my ear, and his breath steams my skin. “How’s this?”

“H-how’s what?”

“Are you comfortable?”

I clasp my hands over my blouse, because I’m not sure where else to put them as I lie on my back. “I mean, I don’t have a pillow,” I whisper. “But I’m certain I’ll get used to it.”

“Sit up,” he says, and when I do, he adjusts his large form and then indicates I should lie back down again. I do, and I’m cradled at the curve of his shoulder, resting against him.

Oh. That was…kind.

“Better?” he asks.

My skin prickles with awareness, my nipples tightening against my clothing as I think about last night. About licking. Somehow when I’d imagined our marriage of convenience, I hadn’t factored in pleasure. I thought we’d have sex, of course, but I hadn’t thought beyond that. Now I can’t stop thinking about Hawk touching me again. Hawk and his delightfully strange—and thick—tongue.

A tongue that went all over me. Everywhere.

Mercy, it’s warm in this tent. I tug at my blouse, trying to air my cleavage.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice low and secretive.

“No.” I undo the top button on my blouse and pretend that was all I was up to. “Just getting comfortable.” I pull my hair down from its bun as well, tugging free tightly bound strands and fussing with it until my hair spills loose over his arm. “There. See? All comfy now.”

He grunts.

His grunt reminds me that he’s been rather stony all night. Ever since Magpie took charge, Hawk’s demeanor has been downright sour. Does he feel as if he’s been passed over as a teacher? That we don’t need him anymore? I turn and glance up at him, and his mouth is pulled down in what can only be a Taurian frown. “You’ve been acting strange tonight.”

That gets his attention. “Strange?”

“Yes. Dare I say it, disapproving. Like you don’t appreciate that Magpie has returned. That she’s taken charge. Why is that?”

He rears back slightly, studying me. “I’m not disapproving. It’s just…well, I’ve seen her like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Like her old self. Smart. Capable. Attentive.” Hawk shakes his head. “I’ve seen it happen before, when she comes out of the bottle. She’s great for a few days, and then something pisses her off or is difficult, and she reaches for the drink again. Then she’s worse than before. I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”

I gaze up at him, sympathetic. He sounds so glum, and I want to fix this for him, somehow. I wish I could. Sadly, I know he’s right. There was a stable hand back at Honori Hold who drank too much. He’d get fired, only to come crawling back, swearing he’d changed his ways. The “new” changes would last only a few days before he’d turn into a drunk again, and he’d get fired once more. The only reason he got another chance was because his wife was one of the cooks. I remember her crying constantly, her face buried in fistfuls of her apron. How she swore he was a good man when he wasn’t drinking.

It’s just that he was always drinking. I think of Magpie, and it makes me ache with sadness to see my childhood hero like this. That today is likely just a fluke and she’ll go back to being the puking, miserable drunk she was before. “Why do you stay with her if she’s this bad, Hawk? It’s clear everyone in the guild respects you. You could work for the guild masters directly. Work with the archivists. You could substitute in until you found a permanent Five. Anyone would take you. Why are you wasting your time with Magpie? If she’s a lost cause?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, thinking over my question. Then, when he speaks, his voice is soft. “I owe her my life.”

“Go on.” Hawk’s so private that I wonder if he’ll actually tell me.

To my surprise, he doesn’t hesitate. “I grew up in a very poor family. Many Taurians who live outside of the city are impoverished. They farm and grow crops, and that doesn’t exactly bring the wealth the holders have.”