Page 149 of Harbinger

Except I’m pretty sure that this is all in my head. Well, other parts of me are involved, too. But Bishop? Regardless of what he says about his vow being an act, he continues to be a saint.

As soon as I’m on my feet, he releases my hand as if to prove the point.

“It’s normal to panic when you aren’t expecting an attack,” he says with a shrug like I wouldn’t have died on the spot if he’d been my actual enemy.

“That’s easy for you to say.” I snort. It’s hard to imagine him ever panicking.

“Why?” His mouth twists with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know …” I hedge, regretting that I said anything. Somehow, in all this time, we’ve managed to keep the questions and their answers about everyone but ourselves. It feels safer that way. “I just can’t imagine you losing your head.” I wince. “Bad choice of words.”

He huffs a half laugh, but the smile slips from his face. “Believe me, I’ve lost my head before.”

“Oh yeah? When?” Now that is a better question. If only because the idea of finding out that Bishop, despite his immortality, is only human is too tempting to resist.

He stops, his shoulders setting into a hard square like he’s bracing for his own words. “When I died,” he admits.

I’m not sure what to say to that. So I reach out, hesitating for just a second before I touch his shoulder gently. Just to let him know that he’s still here. In this moment. With me.

“You didn’t know what happened?” I guess.

He tries to force a smile and fails. “It was worse than that,” he confesses. “I knew what happened.”

I blink at this revelation. “You knew? But you weren’t even a patron yet.” Hadrian said only the patrons knew about scions.

A muscle works in his jaw like he’s fighting with himself. When he finally speaks, his voice is strained. “Order Marius controls the scion population.”

“I don’t understand …” I start to shake my head, but then it hits me. “The crown sees scions as a threat.” That’s why he hides his secret so carefully.

He looks at the ground. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

He doesn’t offer more, and I don’t press.

“Are you afraid you’ll lose control when the cycle …” I pause. I know the answer’s not earned or whatever, but Bishop almost seems to be in a sharing mood today.

He hesitates a bit too long, more unsure than I’ve ever seen him when confronting one of my questions. “I hope not.” His throat slides as if he’s trying to swallow his own answer like medicine. He scrubs the stubble on his jaw. “Let’s call it early today. I didn’t sleep.”

By the time we’ve gathered our things, the sun casts a warm glow, dying on the horizon as the birds come out to sing it to sleep.

“Care to stop at the Bellatorum?” he asks, just like he does every day. He’s stopped directing me to the baths since I accused him of trying to see me naked.

I’m starting to regret that.

“I promised Hadrian I’d look through a few books with him.” It’s not a lie, but it is an excuse. I’ve taken to always having one ready.

Bishop snorts, and I shoot a questioning look at him. “What? Are you mocking my scholarly pursuits? I’m a woman with many interests.”

“I’m just wondering when you’re going to give in, go to the baths, and admit that I’m right that you need the break,” he says, his tone so light that I could float away listening to it.

Something clenches low in my belly. Are we … flirting?

It’s an absolutely ridiculous idea, so I roll my eyes as much at myself as him. “Probably never.”

He bumps his shoulder against mine, but he holds it there a beat too long for it to be friendly. “That sounds about right.”

I should move away from him, but I don’t. “When are you going to give up and stop asking?”

“Probably never.” He bites back a grin.