Page 109 of Harbinger

They close around me. Rough hands grab my arms, yanking me backward so fast my teeth clack together. The man laughs and shoves me down. The ground bites into my knees, wet and cold.

“Witch.” He hisses the verdict.

It hits me low and hard, knocking my breath into a gasp.

I drop my head back to find the Stars and sob. “Please.”

If my magic is going to wake, let it be now. Please.

“Isn’t she polite?” The man above me sneers. He bends over me, so close I can smell the stench of whisky and poor hygiene on his breath.

“Let the lady beg,” another taunts.

“Enough,” the barkeep says, pressing his boot into Kieren’s back. His blade is still pointed at him. “I want to see the mark.”

“No.” The word escapes me in a strangled cry. I throw my weight forward, nearly tearing free of the man holding me. Nails raking skin. Teeth snapping for anything I might reach. He grabs me by the hair, and pain explodes across my scalp as he yanks me back hard enough to make my vision swim.

“Easy,” his voice croons near my ear. “We just want to have a look.”

His companion steps in front of me and unfastens my cloak. I squirm, trying to aim a knee at his groin, and he leaps back as he snatches it off me. “Vicious bitch!”

I open my mouth and spit at him.

The hand in my hair wrenches me back. “Hold still and this will be over faster.”

My stomach lurches violently, and heat floods my throat. I gag, my body revolting against what my mind can’t escape as he aims a dagger at my heart. His arm circles my waist, locking me against him, and every instinct in me screams to fight, to flee, to disappear out of my own skin—but there’s nowhere left to go. I guess the Stars aren’t listening tonight.

“Is this where it is?” he whispers, his knife trailing over the front of my sweater. “That’s what the Civicus reported.”

“Don’t touch her!” Kieren struggles to get to me, but the bartender keeps him pinned.

I can’t bring myself to look at him, my whole body shaking. When he walks out of here, it will be worth it. He’ll understand someday.

“Open it up and let’s see,” the bartender orders, voice flat.

A single tear rolls down my cheek, so warm it almost stings in the cold night. The man fists my shirt, and the others urge him on, applauding him like he’s a fucking hero. I stare straight ahead, ignoring their cheers, pretending I can’t feel his body pressed against mine. Even Kieren’s protests fade from notice.

But I can still feel the tip of the blade, sharp and cold through the thick knit. My breath catches as the knife pauses, and then in a blink, it slashes a single, careful cut. His friend leaps forward and rips the sweater and undergarments down the middle to my waist. Cold air slams into my bare skin, and I gasp, lungs burning, more tears falling.

Kieren whimpers somewhere in the distance.

The man before me stumbles back a step, eyes widening at the sight of the raven-mark burned into my chest.

Their gazes roam my skin, and I close my eyes, because it’s the only place left for me to hide. Dread fills the hollow silence like it’s building toward something inevitable. Just like that night in the throne room. Just like those nobles. These men are no different than they were. Rank, class, status—none of it matters. All men are equals in the face of fear.

I brace for pain. If there’s a price to pay, it’s mine. Not Kieren’s.

For half a heartbeat, no one moves.

Then someone whispers, cruel and hungry all at once, “Harbinger.”

A louder voice follows. “It’s true. She’s the harbinger.”

The word spreads on their mouths like rot, like they are all part of a ritual that can’t be stopped. I bet most of them don’t even know what they’re afraid of. Just a superstition they’ve inherited, passed down generation after generation. The kind that festers and grows in the way only fears can until it makes sense to punish a single person for the sins of an entire group. Fuck that.

I buck, rage cutting through the terror. “Get your hands off me!”

I twist and claw, my nails scraping against wet leather and wool. Someone kicks my legs out from under me, and I go down again, face-first this time. The taste of dirt and iron floods my mouth.