Page 57 of Destroyer

Gwyneth's voice. She came dashing around the corner, her golden hair streaming, a stack of books hugged against her chest.

Startled by Gwyneth’s sudden appearance, Fen backed into the hall, and Ru shook her head to clear it, to douse the rising heat, the lingering intensity of his gaze. He was a friend. He had implied nothing more.

“There you are,” Gwyneth said, breathless, skidding to a halt. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Have you eaten? Come to dinner.” She paused, turning to Fen. “You must be Fen. Pleased to meet you. I’m Gwyneth.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “A pleasure, Gwyneth. Ru thinks very highly of you.”

Gwyneth beamed, adjusting her grip on the pile of books. “Join us for dinner? Archie is meeting me there.Usthere. We can discuss our plans for the artifact’s study.” She was practically vibrating with excitement.

Ru blinked, not quite believing what she heard. “You want to be on my research team?”

Gwyneth laughed. “Don’t be thick, Ru. As if Archie and I wouldn’t join you. Anyway, who else do you think is going to volunteer?”

“After your little speech at the deliberation, you mean.” Ru raised an eyebrow, half-laughing.

Gwyneth sniffed dismissively. “I took the liberty of collecting your paper’s entire bibliography. What I could carry, anyway.”

Looking closer, Ru saw that it was true — Gwyneth’s arms were full of books that Ru had read and cited in her paper. “Gwyn,” she said, “you’re incredible.”

“I know,” Gwyneth replied. “But this means you’re now honor-bound to help me gather sources when I start on my next hideous paper.”

“The lamb one?” Ru asked. Gwyneth was often planning full-scale treatises and then pivoting to a new topic at the last minute, her enthusiasm so easily piqued by the latest bit of intriguing research or historic anecdote.

“No,” said Gwyneth, holding the pile of books out to Fen, her gaze still locked on Ru. He took the books without protest. She wiped her hands on her skirts, attempting to smooth them, but only succeeding in smearing dust on the fabric. “Goats as transportation. Did you know they once pulled little carts? Thousands of years ago? I have to know if the carts were for an adult's use, or were they transporting goods… or perhaps children…” she trailed off, a length of shining hair twirled around one finger, her delicate brows knit together in thought.

“As soon as you decide on a subject, I'll help you research,” Ru said laughingly. “I promise.”

Gwyneth nodded once, a jerk of her pert chin. “Agreed. Fen, are you joining us for dinner?”

He stood looking down at them, his arms now full of books, bemused. “I—”

“He is,” said Ru, steering her friend away from Fen and toward the direction of the mess hall. “But Gwyn, I’m not sure you’ve considered all the possible dangers. Remember your inspiring speech at the deliberation? Don’t be so eager to…” she trailed off, not wanting to say aloud what she meant.

“Die?” Gwyneth finished cheerfully.

Fen, following behind, his chin resting on the tower dusty of books, grumbled to himself at the mention of death.

“Never mind,” said Ru. “Let’s eat, at least, before we discuss our deaths at length.”

“Wonderful,” said Gwyneth, her tone completely at odds with Ru's feelings of rising dread and the fear of exposing her friends to danger.

When they came at last to the mess hall, Ru’s reception was just as she had expected. Some academics gave her awkward nods, some ignored her altogether, while most shot her suspicious or even frightened looks. At least, she thought, they weren’t laughing at her. Better to be feared or hated in the academic world than mocked.

Her rumination was cut short by the sight of Archie, who had found a table and was waving them over, his bright hair like a beacon in the throng. Ru and Gwyneth made a beeline for him, settling themselves on the long wooden benches, where each place was already set with dishes and utensils.

Fen, trailing behind, set the pile of books on the table with a thump, sending a plume of dust into the air. Gwyneth coughed, waving a hand in front of her face.

Large portions of food were laid out at the center of each table. There were tureens of hearty stew, fresh loaves of rustic bread, selections of cheese, roasted game hens, various dishes of vegetables, and sticks of butter laid out for convenience.

Ru had missed the Tower’s simple but hearty food. While the Tower employed no servants like at the palace, there was a contingent of cooks who lived in their own section of the Tower, near to the kitchens. Ru rarely wandered into the kitchens as she worried she might come out smelling like stew, but Gwyneth and Archie often visited the cooks and were always coming back to their rooms with little treats.

“So what’s the research plan?” Archie asked eagerly, while the others loaded up their plates. Then his gaze lit on Fen, and his smile stiffened. “Have we met?”

“Don’t be rude,” said Gwyneth. “This is Fen. Ru’s friend.Remember? Itoldyou…”

“Ah yes, of course. How could I forget the way you lovingly described his artfully disheveled hair?” Archie gave Fen an appraising once-over. “You’re a… historian, I’m given to understand? ”

“I am,” said Fen, raising an eyebrow in response to Archie’s tone. “My reputation precedes me.” The two men were roughly the same age, but Fen’s deeply accented voice and dark, intense presence made Archie seem younger by contrast. Almost delicate.

---