Page 169 of Harbinger

I gulp. Going into Wolf’s Keep is the last thing I want to do, but I did offer to help, and I can’t hide at Miradores forever.

“I could—” I say weakly.

The sad look she gives cuts me off mid-sentence. “You will not be going there unchaperoned. Bishop is off doing Stars know what.” She shakes her head as she lays out a fresh towel and begins piling baked goods in the middle. “The beggars are horrible this time of year,” she explains, blanching as if she’s already dreading their hopeful hands. “It breaks my heart.”

But there is something I can do about that. “Wait. Will you do me a favor while you’re there?”

“Of course,” she says slowly, as if she’s afraid she’s just added more to her crushingly long to-do list.

“Just a second.” I race up the narrow staircase hidden by the back door before I can overthink this idea. I grab the leather pouch from Kieren’s things, ignoring a pang at how empty the box of his belongings looks without the clothes I gave away a few days ago.

Lenora is waiting for me at the door, and her brows rise when I pass the money pouch to her. “Give this to anyone who needs it.”

“Love, you don’t have to—”

“Please,” I cut her off, a lump forming in my throat. I can do Kieren’s Interstice right. I need to—since I’m fucking up everything else. “It’s not … mine.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. She purses her lips and then holds the pouch back out to me. “Go on then. Take it.”

I back up a step. “I don’t want it.”

The lines of her face set with determination. “A woman should have some means tucked away. Your friend would agree. He would have wanted you to keep it … just in case.”

“I can’t.” I shake my head. That’s not how this works, and even if it was, just knowing his things are still in my room … “It hurts too much to see it.”

“I understand, love. But that’s not a problem.” She pulls a tea canister off the highest shelf, and a cloud of dust puffs off the lid when she opens it, coins rattling inside.

I take a step closer, curiosity winning out over grief.

“You can keep it with mine. Fifty years, and I’ve never had to touch it.” She lifts her chin like she’s proud of that fact.

“You have a secret stash?” Lenora is full of surprises.

“When I came here, I didn’t know a soul,” she confides. “No one in my family had ever traveled this far west. My brother gave it to me before I left. Told me to hide it, so I’d have a way to get home if I ever needed to.”

Something squeezes my heart as she talks about her family. “And you never used it?”

“I never needed to.” She snorts like even the idea seems silly now. “But just knowing it was there eased my mind while I settled in here. I still like knowing it’s there, but now I like thinking about what I might do with it,” she says, lowering her voice as if this is a wicked confession. “Maybe I’ll take a trip. I never dared leave Bishop to his own devices before, but he’s been very occupied lately.”

I swallow around the lump that forms in my throat at her suggestive tone. She’ll be heartbroken when she realizes nothing is going to happen between us.

We can start a club.

Not that I have any right to be heartbroken. But still …

“Is there anything you need from Wolf’s Keep?” she asks, slipping on her coat.

I have everything I need at Miradores, a fact that slightly unsettles me. “Nothing.” I pause. “Unless the bakery there has some of those crescent pastries.”

Despite the never-ending feast she’s preparing, that is one delicacy she flat refused to “fiddle with,” as she put it.

“You’ll have to go to Wintour for those.” She shakes her head, adding with that knowing, hopeful smile, “Get Bishop to take you.”

I force myself to return her smile. There’s no reason to ruin her Twelvetide with the truth.

I’ve already done enough damage.

The day passes, and I’m still successfully avoiding Bishop. His extended family is another story, and there’s no getting out of the party. By the time Shea arrives to get ready with me, Breccan in tow, I’ve lied to one, considered strangling another, and potentially sold myself into an arranged marriage with an elderly uncle who seems to think my name is Lizabette.