Page 143 of Bull Moon Rising

I blink up at him in wonder. It’s the first time he’s told me that he cares for me. “I love you, too, Hawk. My husband.”

He smiles down at me, my hand tucked against his muzzle, and for a moment, I’m truly content.

But then it’s time to go. We gather our things and tidy up the crypt. I should be repulsed that we’ve spent the last several days amidst the dead, but it feels like they were watching out for us. That somewhere in the Underworld, the lady with the unpronounceable name and her husband know that I want to keep their rings together, and that if it were up to me, their crypt would remain otherwise untouched. But the guild is the guild, and if there’s a hint of magic to be found, it’ll be torn apart.

At its core, the Royal Artifactual Guild is a guild of tomb robbers. And I don’t know if I have the heart for it. Maybe I never have.

Maybe I was never meant to be Sparrow after all.

FORTY-SEVEN

ASPETH

The moment westep out of the Everbelow, I’m immediately arrested. Even Hawk’s protests can’t save me, and I’m politely but firmly dragged to the guild jail.

I didn’t even know the guild had a jail. But apparently there’s a tower with small, uncomfortable rooms that are guarded by more guild employees—repeaters. Mine has a small window that looks out upon the city, far too high up for me to jump out and try to escape. There’s a narrow cot along the wall and a small stool and a bucket to serve as a chamber pot.

Not unexpected.

I crawl into bed and sleep for what feels like days. When I wake up,there are three trays of food, untouched, sitting by the door. I’m ravenous and eat everything, and then collapse back into bed again. I wake up when someone brings me more food and water, but this time I use the water to clean up. Once I’m reasonably tidy—as reasonably as one can be in a jail cell—I sit on the stool and look out the window.

They’ve confiscated my rings, the rings I fought so hard for in order to save my father’s keep.

I knew they would, but the realization still depresses me. All of that work, all of the striving, and I still have nothing to show for it. Barnabus could be conquering my father’s keep even now. Hawk had mentioned he turned both Barnabus and Magpie over to the guild, but the fact that I’m imprisoned tells me whose side they’ve taken.

So I stare out the window and mope.

There’s nothing else to do, after all. Worrying about my cat, or my Five, or my husband or my father or my people or my own neck won’t help things, so I admire the clouds and watch people scuttle along the streets below and imagine stories for them.

Someone brings me food and water twice a day. I ask for a book to read—even if it’s just guild pamphlets about the proper binding of documentation, just something—and they ignore me. I sleep a lot, too, because when it’s dark outside, even the window provides no entertainment.

I wonder if Hawk is relieved that I’m gone, now that his rut is over. I wonder if he still feels the same.

I wonder if they’re sending him into the tunnels even now to pick clean the crypt we spent so much time in.

I wonder what stories Barnabus and Magpie are telling about me. I’m sure they’re painting me as the villain of the tale. In a way, it does look bad, and without me there to explain properly the reasons behind my theft, I seem spoiled and greedy. No one is going to take my side, especially if they don’t hear my half of the tale.

Time passes. Eighteen days in agonizing slowness. There is no boredom quite like sitting and staring out a window, waiting for your fate. At times, I just want them to get on with it. To sentence me and be done.

Or perhaps I’ve already been judged and this is the punishment? Death by boredom?

On the morning of the nineteenth day, the door to my small roomopens. I jump to my feet, hoping against hope that it’s Hawk. That he’s come to free me. That love shines in his eyes and I haven’t been forgotten.

I’m a little disappointed when Lark, Kipp, Mereden, and Gwenna come through. But only a little. Then I squeal with happiness and fling myself forward, hugging each one of them. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Gods, you smell,” Lark says after she hugs me. She fans her face, grimacing. “Don’t they bathe you up here?”

“No luxury baths for prisoners, I’m afraid,” I tease, not hurt by her words. Lark has always been the first to say exactly what she’s thinking. And I’m positive I do smell. I’ve been washing myself with bits of extra water to keep the grime off my skin, but my hair is filthy and I’m wearing the same tattered clothing I wore prior to the cave-in, and there’s been no washing for them. A terrible thought occurs to me. “Have you all been arrested, too?”

Mereden shakes her head. “No, we’re to be tried together as a Five. That’s why we’re here. We’re meeting before the guild masters shortly.”

We are? Oh gods. I touch my messy hair and torn clothing and grimace. “Someone help me clean up?”

Kipp slithers free of his house—a new one, I see, with the piece of old shell affixed to the back with leather stitching through a few purposeful holes—and holds out a comb. A moment later, he pulls a fresh chemise from his shell and a bundled guild coat.

“You are a wonder,” I tell him, and he gives me a lizard-like wink. I think.

They help me get ready, with Gwenna braiding my wrecked hair into a tight bun at the base of my neck. The new jacket fits a little tight but it’s clean and I don’t feel like a gutter-goblin at least. I straighten and put on my best lord-holder’s-daughter demeanor. If nothing else, I did what I did out of duty. No holder would find me guilty. They would understand.

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