Chapter 18

Other than dinner, Remy hadn't said when to meet at The Stony Mug, but when I arrived, he was already sitting at the same corner table as the last time. I smiled and started to wave as I walked in the door, but then noticed Shirley placing a mug of ale in front of him and squeezing his biceps. She giggled at something he said and adjusted her bodice to better display her impressive cleavage.

I had been looking forward to more of Ralph's cooking, but my appetite fled at the sight. Glancing down at my own modest offerings, I told myself it didn't matter and changed direction. I strode to the bar and placed a coin I couldn't afford to spend on top. Then, I greeted Ralph and asked for a cider.

Ralph's broad face broke into a smile and his eyes crinkled at the corners. "How are you this evening, Ziola?" he asked.

"Good," I replied and climbed onto a stool.

Ralph handed me the drink and tilted his head toward the back of the room. "Remy's back there."

"I know." I stayed planted on the stool and began to drink. I didn't need the fact that I was less desirable than everyone else rubbed into my face.

Ralph raised his brows and his gaze returned to the corner table. When he saw Shirley leaning over Remy, he sighed. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to pry her away again." He turned back to me. "Don't pay Shirley any attention."

"I understand they have a history. I wouldn't want to intrude," I said primly.

Ralph barked a laugh. "Remy has plenty of history, but he's never been serious and none of the women have lasted very long. Shirley included."

"She seems to want to change that."

"She might. But he doesn't."

I chewed on a fingernail. "He doesn't seem to be objecting."

Ralph leaned over the bar and patted my shoulder with a large hand. "Trust me, he's no longer interested, but doesn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her to get lost."

I suspected Ralph was just trying to make me feel better, and I wasn't sure I believed him.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's go rescue Remy."

I trailed a few paces behind Ralph's imposing form, leaving him to effectively screen me from view. When we arrived at the table, Shirley looked up at Ralph and her face fell.

"You're here to tell me to get back to work," she said.

Ralph nodded. "You've got work, and Remy has a meeting with his business partner."

Shirley peered around Ralph and spied me. "Oh, her." She narrowed her eyes at me, then turned to Remy. "Find me later, hon?"

"I've got to work again tonight. It's a really busy time."

She stuck out her lower lip but drifted to another table to check on drink orders.

Ralph planted hands on hips and glared down at Remy. "You have to tell Shirley you're not interested. Stringing her along is cruel."

He winced and color stained his cheeks. "I was trying to let her down easy."

"Well, it's not working. Fix it." Ralph started to walk back to the bar but said over his shoulder, "I almost forgot. Petra wants to talk to the two of you. I'll tell her you're both here."

I sat gingerly on the edge of a chair while Remy stared moodily into his mug. I didn't know what to think about him. Maybe he'd just felt sorry for me earlier in the basement and a little physical contact had made him horny. Given what everyone said about him, that seemed like a distinct possibility.

But I did know I didn't want Remy complicating my life plan. The only other women in the guild advanced based on their ability to seduce important men and collect information. A few had already told me that if I wanted better assignments, I should use what assets the gods gave me on the directors. Maybe I was being na?ve, but I wanted to get ahead based on my skills and brains, not what was between my legs.

Everyone already thought that's what I was doing, but at least I knew the truth. If I got involved with Remy, could I still say that? Women were always the losers in workplace romances; it wasn't fair that it was acceptable for the man, while the woman was accused of sleeping her way to the top. But fair didn't matter. Protecting myself did.

Unfortunately, I wasn't doing a good job on that score because it was getting harder to fight my attraction to Remy. I cringed inside. No, I was going to have to be honest. I had already lost the battle.

But if Remy couldn't be frank with Shirley, how did I know what he thought of me? As much as I hated the idea—and I suspected he was going to hate it even more—we were going to have to talk.

I cleared my throat and looked at him. "You won't like this, but we need to talk."

"Unless it's about work, you're right. I won't like it."

Ignoring that, I plowed on. "I don't know about your past relationships, and I don't want to. They are your business, not mine."

He glanced at me quickly before returning his attention to his ale.

"Likewise, how you treat Shirley is none of my business."

A muscle in his jaw twitched and his fingers tightened around the mug.

"But how you treat me is my business."

He looked up sharply and said, "Ziola, I haven't—"

I held up a hand and interrupted him. "Let me finish."

When he nodded, I continued. "I never wanted a relationship, casual or otherwise, with anyone at the guild. They never end well for the woman."

"They make life uncomfortable for the man too," he commented.

I pinned him with my gaze. "Is that before or after he struts around crowing about his conquest?"

Remy sat up straighter and glowered. "Not all men act like asses."

"Maybe not," I conceded. "But I've yet to hear people talk about a man using his body to get ahead."

His mouth snapped shut so fast, I swore I heard his teeth click together.

"I don't know what is going on with us." I pointed first to him and then to myself. "But I'm not going to be your next Shirley. The dolly you have some fun with but then can't figure out how to get rid of."

He slid down in his chair and dropped his gaze. Just then, Ralph's beautiful wife glided up to the table, carrying a small satchel. She glanced between us and said, "Is this a bad time? I can come back."

"No!" Remy cried. "Now is a perfect time."

I pressed my lips into a thin line and glared at him. Then I sighed and turned to Petra. "Please sit. I don't think our conversation was going very far anyway."

Petra hesitated but placed the satchel on the table and sat. She extracted two smaller pouches from the bag and put one in front of me. I opened the drawstring and peeked inside to find a dozen clay arrowheads. I pulled one out and examined it. It was matte black, with dull edges, and considerably lighter than a normal iron point.

"What are these for?" I couldn't imagine what anyone was supposed to do with a fragile, blunt arrowhead.

"To use against the gargoyles."

"Seriously?" It didn't look like it would do much harm to a toddler, never mind a stone-skinned warrior.

"Yes," she said. "I got the idea from your mention of rubber arrowheads."

Remy leaned forward and held out his hand. I dropped an arrowhead into it and continued scrutinizing the one I held. After prodding it for a few more seconds, I said, "I give up. How could this possibly help against gargoyles?"

Petra looked as self-satisfied as a preening peacock. "The ones you are holding do nothing but break. But these" — she held up the second pouch — "will shatter and spray a sleeping potion on the target. I couldn't just coat iron tips with the drug because they would bounce harmlessly off gargoyle skin."

I gawked at her as I tried to wrap my mind around the concept. "How did you make them?"

"Ellia created the potion… Have you met Ellia?"

I shook my head.

"She's an apothecary who wields plant magic. I'll have to introduce you. Anyway, she made the potion base, and I used my affinity with stone to make it effective on gargoyles." Petra paused and wrinkled her brow. "At least I think it will be. I didn't have a gargoyle handy to test it on."

"How long will they be asleep?" I asked.

"Gargoyles are resilient, so it won't last long. Maybe twenty minutes. Is that enough?"

I looked at Remy, who replied. "It will have to be. How quickly does it work?"

"Within thirty seconds or so."

Remy rubbed his chin, gaze unfocused. "That still gives them time to reach the archer if they fly." He turned to me. "You'll have to be well hidden or prepared to shoot and run like hell."

I frowned. "I'll have a better idea after I see the place. Are we still going tonight?"

"I am. It would be safer for you to stay here while I check it out."

"That's your idea of teaching? Protect the little lady?"

I caught a glimpse of Petra suppressing a smile. Remy, however, inflated like a circus tent being set up. "You can't see as well as I can in the dark. I'll tell you what I find."

"Is she going to shoot in the daytime?" Petra asked with obviously feigned innocence. It was my turn to suppress a smile.

Remy glared at her. "You're not helping."

"No, I will be shooting at night," I answered. "I will be much better prepared if I see the site ahead of time in the same light."

Remy threw up his hands. "Have it your way." He shoved his chair back hard, scraping it across the floor and stood. "I'm getting something to eat." With a scowl, he stalked toward the bar.

Petra's gaze lingered on his stiff, retreating back. "He's not usually like this, you know," she said.

"You mean irritable and overbearing?"

She pursed her lips and nodded. "He's a smart-alec and can be crude, but he's easy-going and funny."

I'd seen occasional bursts of humor from Remy, but I would never have called him easy-going. On the whole, he was brooding and intense. I slouched in my chair and clasped my hands together.

"Maybe I bring out the worst in him."

"Hmmm," Petra said. "Anyway, I brought the two sets of arrowheads because I thought you might want to practice with the empty ones. Clay won't have the same weight as iron, so the balance won't be the same."

I was surprised that had occurred to her and said so. We spent a few minutes chatting about nothing in particular before Remy returned with two plates of food. Petra excused herself and returned to Ralph as Remy dropped one of the plates in front of me with a clatter. "Eat up and let's go."

I thought about telling him what he could do with the plate, but the meat pie smelled too good, and I was hungry.