Page 217 of Harbinger

So much for Vennaro being impenetrable. “It must have been disappointing to wake up engaged and find out your uncle’s assassin failed.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t fail this time. A Ravenell cannot rise to power.” She shakes her head.

I roll my eyes. “Because I’m so scary?”

“Because Order Velesont will be the most powerful order. Nothing can threaten that. We’ve worked too hard to find ourselves licking another set of boots.”

By worked, I assume she means schemed against the other orders. Just like they’re doing now.

“At least you came home before I had to marry him.” She grimaces, and I feel my heart crack a little for Broderic.

The sick feeling rises another inch in my throat, and I clamp my mouth shut.

“You’re not going to give them the antidote,” I say.

She actually looks hurt. “I will. Why wouldn’t I?”

Because she hates them. That much is obvious.

“Once I’m gone, your job is finished. I’m sure your uncle didn’t pay you to go the extra mile.”

“He’s not paying me,” Laurel says, an edge in her voice. “He’s freeing me. Do you have any idea what it costs to be the niece of Patron Velesont? He would have made me stay the rest of my life if I didn’t deliver you. Now, I’m done. I don’t have to marry your brother. I won’t rot in Damalis, a farmer’s wife.” She shudders, then brightens. “I can go wherever I want. Do what I please. For the first time in my life.”

My gaze flicks to Stefan. He’s been silent this whole time, watching me with the patience of a man who’s done this before. Probably more than once.

“What’s your story going to be?” I ask Laurel. “You walked into the woods with me and walked back without. How will you explain that to them?”

Her face changes, mouth drooping. A tear slides down her cheek as easily as a leaf falling.

“There were three of them,” she says, her voice softening and then breaking a little as she starts to cry. “Hooded. They came out of the trees. They wanted Arden. They told me they poisoned our food. They had the antidote. They said—” The words catch in her throat, more tears falling. “They said if I gave them Arden, they’d give me the antidote. I’m so sorry, Broderic. I didn’t know what else to do. I had to choose. Forgive me.”

She wipes her cheek delicately, and her eyes refocus on me as she grins.

I almost applaud.

“Something like that,” she says, no longer performing. Her smile widens. “I’ve been practicing.”

“And him?”

“He’ll be very dead when they find him. Three sword wounds from fighting bravely. A hero for buying me time to escape with the antidote.”

Stefan laughs.

“That’s commitment,” I say slowly.

“Let’s not pretend. You’ve been with the bishop too long. You know what he hunts. You know what Stefan is,” she hisses, eyes lighting up with delight.

A scion.

She really thought of everything. I might be impressed under other circumstances.

“He’ll resurrect by morning,” she says, “and meet us in Isoldoro. Where we belong. Well, not you. But you won’t be there for long.”

I stare at the bottle in her hand.

She won’t deliver it to them. Everything about her is an act, a weapon honed by her uncle. My family’s only chance is if I take the antidote from her.

“Okay,” I say.