Page 208 of Harbinger

Bishop draws a deep breath. “So while Cassiel was away, my father sent me a letter, concerned about the connections he’d formed overseas. But when my brother returned from the continent … I was in Isoldoro. I didn’t want to go back home yet. Didn’t want to deal with it.”

I snort with understanding, not amusement. “But you went.”

Because that’s what people like us do.

“I delayed a few days. I just didn’t want to …” He trails away before he continues. “I was too late. When I reached Miradores—only Lenora was spared. She’d gone to visit her cousin for the day in Ardermare. Everyone else … the other staff … my father … mother …” His voice breaks, and I squeeze his hand.

Looking at him, I see it all at last. The weight of what he lost. The way he’s carried on alone ever since. The way he holds himself apart. Always in control.

“And your brother?” I ask, my heart in my throat, but I don’t look away. He needs to know I’m here with him as he faces this.

Bishop turns from me, his eyes shining in the firelight. “I could have saved him. If I’d been faster. If I hadn’t stumbled through the house checking corpses for pulses I knew weren’t there while my brother fought for his life. By the time I heard him. Realized what was happening …” He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to remember. “I got to the balcony as the killer plunged a sword into Cassiel. My brother was looking right at me when he went over the railing.

“And his new friend”—Bishop spits the word—“he just laughed and told me I was too late.” His fists clench, and he shakes his head as if he’s back on that balcony. “I lunged for him. That’s when I realized he wasn’t human. Realized why Cassiel wasn’t able to defend himself.”

Bishop pauses and looks me in the eye. “He mortally wounded me, too, left me to die on that balcony in the rain. Lenora found me, just as I …” He trails away again. “She kept the secret. Said that’s what family does. It took me longer to trust the others.”

That doesn’t surprise me. He got himself killed before he trusted me. “And Hadrian?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

I roll my eyes but feel no lighter. “He said it was your story to tell. Is that a scion thing? Being moody and cryptic?”

He laughs softly, but a hard line settles between his brows. “It’s part of his oath.”

“You make that sound very official.”

“It is to him. It …” His eyes close for a minute. “It saved me. He saved me.”

A chill works its way under my ribs, and I go completely still, afraid that if I move, he’ll stop talking.

“Why did you need saving?” I ask as my pulse starts to race like my body is running ahead of me and already bracing.

He pulls his hand from mine and runs it through his silver-blond hair. He doesn’t reach for mine again, dropping his to his lap instead. I immediately miss the warmth.

“I was mad with grief. And all I could think about was finding the scion who killed them all”—he pauses again, as if each word is costing him another piece of his soul—“but I settled for any immortal who crossed my path.” His eyes close as if he can’t face the truth. “Arden, I killed them all. Quickly, slowly, but always brutally.”

My heart pounds in my ears. Once. Twice. And then it just stops.

His vestiges. Hundreds of them.

Collected in revenge.

The fire crackling in the hearth sounds too loud as I try to digest everything.

How many people never came home to their families? How many of them were like Hadrian? Or Shea?

Over our months together, I’d built him into a man who only drew his sword for a reason. I’d convinced myself that his vestiges were collected from dangerous scions, but the truth is so much worse. He murdered them all.

Because one scion killed his family. Because he hated that he’d become one, too.

Some part of me is horrified, and the room tilts, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat as I fight the urge to be sick. But then I think of the bishop who dedicated his life to helping others. Of the man who asks for nothing for himself as he gives everything to those under his rule. I think of Bishop on the proving grounds, drilling Shea until her arms shake because he wants her to live. The man who gave Hadrian access to his library and helped him search for answers. Not only for themselves but for every scion, so that none of them would have to face the fury and another war cycle.

I take a few slow, deep breaths. My heart begins to beat again as I remember the way he fights with steel and discipline and his own body, pushing himself when a vestige would settle a match in seconds. I’d assumed it was pride. Or some vow I didn’t understand.

It isn’t.

It’s penance.