The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(10)

Unease twinged in my gut at the reminder that Ríkr had promised to share the unique magic that made him near-impervious to death. I couldn’t imagine anything good coming out of Lallakai gaining the same level of invincibility, but Ríkr had agreed, and it was his call whether he wanted to keep his word. At least the deal had been that he “share” his power and not give it away entirely.

What could possibly have drawn them away? And so soon after our return from Hell’s Gate? Zak hadn’t even stayed the night, though he must have been exhausted. I bit my lower lip, trying to convince myself that I only cared because Zak owed me an explanation for what had happened between us ten years ago.

“I suppose that almost guarantees they’ll be back sooner or later,” I said as I closed Whicker in his stall. He stuck his head through the opening in the door and I rubbed his forehead. “Lallakai won’t forget about your promise.”

Maybe she’ll perish before she can return, he suggested hopefully. That would eliminate several inconveniences at once.

If Lallakai died, Zak would probably suffer the same fate, and I had too much unfinished business with him.

I headed toward the stable doors. “Speaking of inconveniences, I need to leave soon.”

For the guild meeting? Ríkr trotted beside me, his feline paws silent on the concrete floor. The sooner you demonstrate your supremacy, the less time we will waste cowing them.

I grimaced as I walked into the yard. Clouds hung low in the sky, threatening rain.

“I don’t even know how many guild members I’d need to intimidate.” I brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “Some of them might not be intimidated at all.”

Like Darius King, the guild master, and Aaron Sinclair, my “mentor.” Neither seemed like the type to back down from a challenge.

I stewed in my thoughts as I trekked up the stairs and into my small apartment above the tack room. As Ríkr hopped onto the sofa, looking for all the world like a house cat intent on a late afternoon nap, I slid my switchblade from my pocket. The olive-green handle was smooth and polished. It still looked brand new.

I didn’t regret skipping my switchblade and summoning an ice spear at my last visit to the Crow and Hammer, but I also felt a bit weird about it. Like it hadn’t been the best move.

“I’m not sure intimidating them is what I want to do.”

Ríkr lay down on the sofa, paws tucked together. What do you wish to do?

“I don’t know.” I tapped the switchblade against my palm in a nervous rhythm. “But intimidating them seems … well, it might backfire, for one. And aside from that, it just …”

It does not seem necessary? Ríkr suggested.

My brow furrowed. “Yeah.”

Ah. His ears slanted back, his expression one of satisfaction. I understand.

“You do?” Because I didn’t.

It is simple, dove. You no longer need intimidation as a defensive maneuver. You are more powerful. If they challenge you, you can meet them on their level.

The simple truth stunned me. For years, I’d brandished weapons to dissuade people from messing with me. I’d been weak, and I’d known I was weak. How else was I supposed to stave off confrontations I might lose? But I was a druid now. I wasn’t sure how powerful I actually was against other mythics, but I no longer needed to posture and fluff my fur to look—and feel—stronger than I was.

I stood for a moment, then sat on the coffee table facing Ríkr. “What am I supposed to do?”

Pardon?

“How should I behave at the guild?”

You’re asking me? He blinked. Dove, have you forgotten what I am?

“You understand politics and social hierarchies. A guild and a court can’t be that different.”

I am quite confident they are incomparable.

“You must have some advice. You love giving me advice.” I gestured at his small feline body. “If you were joining a new court, how would you behave?”

He chuffed. I would be ruling the court, not joining it.

Groaning, I pinched the bridge of my nose. Asking a fae how I, a human, should interact with my peers was pointless, but I was at a complete loss. I was too used to being weak and defensive.

With a frustrated shake of my head, I pushed to my feet. “I guess I’ll have to wing it.”

Ríkr closed his eyes lazily. Keep it simple, dove. Ignore them unless they challenge you.

“And if they challenge me?”

He cracked one eye open, the pale blue iris gleaming. Then crush them.





“Please give Saber your warmest welcome to the Crow and Hammer,” Darius announced, projecting his voice to the room.

Standing beside the guild master, I gazed across a sea of fifty unfamiliar faces. Everyone was focused on me, their expressions varying from curiosity to suspicion to boredom. The guild’s monthly meeting had brought every member, minus a few who were out of town, to the pub. Fifty people wasn’t a huge guild, but it was several times larger than the Coquitlam Coven had been.

“Saber, would you like to say anything?” Darius asked in an undertone.

A dozen thoughts spun through my head. I’d arrived minutes before the meeting started, and I still hadn’t figured out which face I wanted to present to this guild. Not nice Saber and not hostile Saber, I knew, but those were the two facades I’d perfected.