Page 12 of Harbinger

I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t hear the front entrance open. A moment later, Kieren is next to me.

“You couldn’t let it go.” He shakes his head. “You’re lucky he didn’t bite your head off.”

I start down the steps before he can drag me back to make nice with my brother. “Broderic is being silly. Our accounts are low, but we don’t need to be rich.”

There’s a difference between self-sacrifice and martyrdom. Not that Broderic is in a mood to hear that, nor am I in the mood to explain.

“He just wants to take care of you,” Kieren says softly after we reach the bottom of what feels like a hundred steps, sadness tracing the words as he follows me down the wide stairs.

I wish that mattered to me.

“I can take care of myself.” I nearly slip on the fresh snow dusting the paved private drive. The soles of my new boots—another unnecessary expense for this trip—are still slick.

Kieren sees but doesn’t comment. “Should I go back inside, then?”

I sigh. Kieren always gets stuck in the middle of our battles. “No, stay.”

“Come on.” He crooks his arm. “We’re going to explore Wintour.”

I stare at the iron gates that separate the palace grounds from the outside world. They are a different kind of cage. One I can choose to open. One I can escape—for a little while, at least. “Is that allowed?” I tease, wishing I felt as light as my tone. “I wouldn’t want to get lost.”

“Ah, but you are not ten years old.” Kieren grins at me. “And since tonight you officially become Lady Icaros, I think you’re permitted.”

I grimace at the title. “Please never call me that.”

“Of course.” He gives a solemn nod before tacking on, “My lady.”

I push him into the snowbank.

THREE

The trouble is that an Icaros never goes down without a fight. And Kieren is an Icaros in spirit. He snags my ankle as he falls, and I shout as we go down in a heap. It’s still early in the eleventh month, and there’s already enough powdery snow to nearly swallow us.

A sentry stationed at the base of the stairs hurries over, frowning at Kieren. The guard offers me his hand, eyes darting around like he shouldn’t risk the distraction of helping me up. “Allow me to assist you, my lady.”

Indignity upon indignity.

I force myself to thank the sentry anyway while Kieren laughs in the snowbank. The guard quickly returns to his post, his gaze sweeping the grounds for signs of real threats.

Kieren is still howling when he makes it to his feet. He brushes snow from his coat, then the flakes dusting his dark hair, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why does he get to call you—”

“Don’t finish that question,” I warn him.

He holds up his palms. “I surrender.” His mouth twitches like he wants to tack on my future title again. “Shall we?”

His restraint is a small miracle.

“There are posterns throughout the city.” He points to an arched opening carved into the stone wall near the gates, a swirl of blue light emanating from inside. “I hear there are a few needing repair, but we can take any working one wherever you want to go.”

I wrinkle my nose. Of course Velesont would create plenty of the connected portals in a city this size, but I’ve never liked the way postern travel feels—like being doused in ice water so cold it seeps all the way to your bones. “Let’s walk.”

Kieren doesn’t argue with me, even when one of the guards at the gatehouse begs us to reconsider. Given how long she takes to open the gates, and the fact that coaches have fallen out of fashion except for formal events, I suspect the woman doesn’t remember how to operate them.

The castle gates open to a spacious avenue of private estates, each building featuring the same black marble exterior with lines of gold and stars etched into the stone leading up to its domed glass roof. Mansions with columns and fences and fountains glare down at the city below, each the size of an overinflated ego. Sentries are stationed at each of their gates, their uniforms bearing a horned wolf, the sigil of Order Marius, as if the wealth past the wrought iron deserves to be protected to the death.

Wind nips my cheeks as I stare at the estates, and I fluff the fur trim of my coat to sit higher. “They’re nearly as big as the palace.”

“Homes to lesser royals,” Kieren whispers so the nearby guard can’t hear. “The ones the king needs to keep an eye on.”