Page 153 of Bull Moon Rising

Aspeth runs her fingers over my pectorals while I come back to myself. “We never had birth control. In the crypt. Or now.”

It’s something I thought about, days after, while Aspeth sat in prison and waited for the king to arrive in Vastwarren. I reach for the table next to the bed and pull out the drawer, producing a bead on a leather thong. “You can wear this.”

She sits up—or tries to, except I’ve got her pinned, her hips locked to mine. “Is that a Prellian pause-bead?”

“Aye. You’ve seen them?”

“Heard of them. The books were very reticent to discuss anything that affected female anatomy. How does it work?”

“As long as you wear this, even if you’re pregnant now, nothing in your womb will advance in time until you take it off. We’ll handle the whole children thing when you’re ready.”

Aspeth pauses. “What if I’m never ready?”

“Then you can wear that to your grave.” I nuzzle another kiss against her jaw. “I just want you to be happy, Aspeth. I’ve never demanded children from you. Never would.”

“I know. I just…I’m not ready yet. I think I would like children but not now. Not with everything so uncertain.” She slips the bead over her head. “Maybe in a year?”

“Whatever you decide,” I say, and I mean it. “You—”

There’s an urgent knock at the front door.

We both groan. Aspeth skitters out from under me, grabbing a robe and wrapping it around her body. “Are you expecting someone?”

I shake my head. “Perhaps one of the others forgot something? They’ve been moved into the repeater barracks.” Her expression clouds, and I know she’s thinking of them and the trouble she’s caused. I squeeze her hand, because it wasn’t as if she forced anyone to do anything. They are her friends and chose to help her. They have a chance to enter the guild again next season. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I can’t help it—”

The knock at the door occurs again, louder and more insistent, and Igrowl in frustration. If it’s Magpie, I’m going to march her to the nearest jail. I shove pants on while Aspeth cleans up, and I head out to the main entrance, my hooves stomping and expressing my irritation loudly to all. When Aspeth appears in the doorway to the bedroom with the robe tight around her body, I move to the front door and fling it open.

A guild scholar is there, his hand raised as if he means to knock a third time. He shrinks back at the sight of an angry Taurian looming in the doorway, uncertainty on his face. He holds a box in his arms and clutches it tightly even as he steps back. “I was told Lady Aspeth was here?”

“My wifeis tired. Guild business can wait.” It can wait forever, as far as I’m concerned. They’ve made her miserable enough. “Come back tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.”

Aspeth pushes past me, squinting. Then a look of surprise crosses her face at our visitor. “Archivist Kestrel? Is something wrong?”

He brightens at the sight of Aspeth. “Lady, pleased to meet you again. Nothing is wrong. Well, not yet. There is a matter of some urgency and I thought to ask you something. You can read Prellian, yes?”

She glances up at me and then gives a tiny nod. “Old better than new, of course. New Prellian is region-dependent and we don’t have great examples of some of the more far-flung regions….” Aspeth trails off as he opens the box in front of her, revealing it like he would some sort of offering. “Oh. A sistral?”

The archivist nods eagerly. “You know of them?”

Aspeth pulls the thing carefully out of the box. “Just that they were musical instruments. So few of them have been found intact and I’m told the only two enchanted ones are in Lord Besral’s care.” She holds it reverently, squinting in the flickering light, and then makes a frustrated sound. “Come inside.”

The little man hurries inside, carefully giving me as much space as he can. If I wasn’t in the process of going to bed with my wife, I’d be amused. As it is, I’m cranky and feeling protective. “Aspeth has had a long day,” I warn him. “This had better be quick.”

“This is an instrument scheduled to ship out to Lord Besral tomorrow, actually,” Archivist Kestrel says, trotting after Aspeth as she stridestoward the nest’s communications desk. “That’s why I’m here tonight. I need a second opinion on the inscription, and my colleagues and I cannot agree. I know Lady Aspeth is supposed to be an expert with reading glyphs, and so here I am.”

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’smine.

“Oh dear,” she says after a moment.

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