Page 131 of Harbinger

Negotiating with a bird. This is what I’m reduced to, but it’s better than sitting in my room, waiting for the next time the Stars fuck me over. Or walking Kieren’s belongings down to the Bellatorum. Forcing myself to pass them off to strangers. Better than letting go of the pieces of him I can still hold in my hands. And since Bishop won’t train me …

Even with my burns now nearly gone and only the slightest blisters remaining.

I hope the void swallows him.

I’m lifting the spade, pretending the next root is his beautiful face, when a shadow falls over me.

“You never came for a lesson,” Hadrian says.

“I’m not sure …” I grunt as I push its cutting edge against the swollen root. “… why you’re surprised.” The damn thing won’t budge. I fall back a step, panting, and glance over at him. “Honestly, I’m not sure I want answers.”

What good will it do? Scions get to live. People like me, people like Kieren, don’t. It’s just further proof that life’s unfair. That the Stars play favorites and screw over the rest of us. Not that I needed any more evidence of that.

“I assumed as much when you left the book.” He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robe, looking around with a grimace as if he’s just realizing that we’re nearly in the twelfth month and he should be wearing a coat.

“Let me guess, you came all the way out here to give me lessons in the ancient tongue?” That seems like something he would do.

“I came to make sure you’re alive.”

My chest constricts, but I ignore it. “You might be the only person who cares if I am.”

“You’re being looked for. Lenora checked the library,” he tells me.

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. “I’ve been right here. She must not be looking very hard.”

“She said you won’t come down for meals.”

I return to digging at the root. “I’ve been busy, and I’m sure you all have better things to do than babysit me.” I grunt again, wishing the oscen would swoop down and scare him away. Hadrian strikes me as the superstitious type, but the bird has finally quieted, almost like it agrees with why he’s here.

Traitor.

“She’s concerned,” Hadrian says.

He sounds just like Bishop.

“I’m fine.” I keep my attention on the dirt so I don’t add anything that I’ll regret.

But my spade slips, catching on the root, and I trip forward, barely catching myself from falling on my face.

“Clearly,” he says flatly.

“I thought this was what you wanted me to do.” I abandon the starsforsaken stump and return to my other project: a shallow trench carved for the bulbs I dug out of the potting shed. They need winter’s cold ground to sprout roots before they can bloom in the spring. If they’re still any good at all.

As soon as I change direction, the oscen flutters down to the stump like it plans to take up residence so I can’t keep hacking away at it.

“Oh, have the damn thing!” I shout at it. I collapse to my knees and reach for the basket of bulbs.

But Hadrian shifts to stare at the bird, then goes completely still. “Void above, is that …”

I turn a fraction, watching him study it. “It’s just a bird.”

“I haven’t seen one in years.”

“A bird?” I shake my head and drop another bulb into the trench. “You need to get out more.”

But he isn’t listening.

Beads of rain collect on the bird’s feathers, but it doesn’t budge from its vigil, utterly unfazed as Hadrian moves closer, tracking the oscen like he’s seeing a ghost.