The Twice-Scorned Lady of Shadow (The Guild Codex: Unveiled #3)(11)

Ríkr’s small ferret paws gripped my shoulder, and I glanced at him.

“I understand I’m the first druid to join this guild. This is my familiar.” I pointed at my shoulder. He wasn’t technically my familiar anymore, but I didn’t want to get into the nuances of the consort relationship—especially when I didn’t understand it yet myself. “If you mess with him, I’m not responsible for what he does.”

A beefy man in his early thirties laughed. “Are we supposed to be scared of a ferret?”

“Did you rattle your brains loose on our last job, Darren?” a short blond woman barked. “That’s a fae, not a rodent.”

Darren snorted derisively.

“Are you saying you can’t control your familiar?” a woman on the other side of the pub asked.

I swung my gaze around, but I wasn’t sure who’d spoken. “Do you ‘control’ your friends? He’s not my pet. If he decides you deserve to be frozen into a solid block of ice, that’s his prerogative.”

A rustle of what might’ve been concern ran through the crowd.

“Doesn’t this guild have witches?” I fired at Darius. “Have these people never met a fae before?”

“We have six witches, several of whom have familiars, but their fae companions don’t usually visit the guild,” Darius replied in a low tone for my ears only. “Our membership could learn a lot from regular exposure to a fae.”

My eyes narrowed. “Did Morris tell you anything about my familiar?”

“I understand he’s more powerful than the average fae.”

How delightfully vague, Ríkr remarked in my head.

So did that mean Darius knew Ríkr was an immortal fae king with magic that exponentially outstripped any mythic’s, or did he merely know Ríkr was stronger than most familiars? How much did Morris know?

I swiveled back to my guildmates. “Any other questions?”

“Are you single?” someone in the back called.

I flipped him my middle finger.

To my surprise, laughter rang out. Everyone, even the guy who’d asked the question, looked amused instead of appalled.

“Is that a yes?” he asked.

“Thank you, Saber,” Darius said, ignoring the second wave of laughter. “Take a seat, and we’ll continue with the meeting.”

I strode back to my table and dropped into the seat beside a blond man in his mid-thirties. He had a receding hairline, large glasses, and a thin build. Felix Adams, my rehab supervisor. He’d waved me over as soon as I’d arrived and introduced himself before the meeting began.

The short blond woman who’d spoken up a minute ago reached around Felix to offer me her hand. “I’m Zora, by the way. Felix’s wife.”

I shook her hand. Her grip was strong.

“Darren and Cameron feed off each other’s idiocy,” she told me, flashing a grin. “Feel free to smack them up the sides of their dumbass heads if they annoy you.”

“Darius told me I’m not allowed to hit first.”

She laughed. “That’s true, but our second rule is ‘Don’t get caught.’”

My eyebrows rose.

She glanced at my arms. “I bet you hit pretty hard. Do you work out?”

My navy tank top showed off as much of my arms as Zora’s black corset-style top, and we were similarly toned.

“No,” I replied. “But my jobs are very physical.”

Zora grinned. “So is mine, but I work out too.”

Felix cleared his throat and nodded toward Darius, who had begun to speak. His wife straightened in her seat, returning her gaze to the guild master. I leaned back, half listening as Darius talked about guild members’ special accomplishments, safety notices, and near-miss reports. It was remarkably similar to a staff meeting at the vet clinic, and I relaxed a bit.

An hour later, the meeting adjourned. Chairs scraped across the wood floor as members swarmed the bar to order drinks and food. Unlike my first visit, several people were hustling behind the bar, taking orders and making drinks.

“Want anything, Saber?” Zora asked with a friendly smile.

“A water would be good.”

“Sure.”

As she joined the crowd around the bar, someone called for Felix. He hurried away from his chair, and I found myself alone at the table—aside from Ríkr on my shoulder. My gaze moved across the people filling the guild, ranging from young and fresh to old and grizzled, and everything in between. There was a lot of conversation, frequent laughter, and a fair amount of goofing off.

A thought drifted through my head: What would it be like to be part of a group like this? To chat casually, laugh, act a little silly? I couldn’t imagine acting silly, but the idea had a daring appeal.

Remembering Morris’s warning that this place might eat me alive, I reassessed the room. Some members looked distinctly average, like they could’ve wandered in from the local shopping mall. But about half of them were athletically built. Some were thick with muscles. Others moved in that smooth, confident way I’d learned to fear when accompanying Ruth to the crime den as a teen.

Pushing my chair back, I rose to my feet. Restlessness vibrated in my leg muscles. I’d done too much sitting lately. I needed to move.

“Oy!”