Page 43 of Harbinger

No. No. No. Take me home to Damalis. Erase this mark from my skin. Let me pretend this never happened. That’s what I want.

But that’s also what I can never have if I’m going to keep them safe. For him, for all of them, I have to do this. If I don’t, my brother will fight to keep me safe—with his last breath.

“I don’t want to be a poor nobody.” I say the things I saw on his face before the feast. I channel the resentment I heard in his voice. “Go home, Broderic. I’m sure the Stars have better things planned for me.”

“You can’t possibly believe—”

“Of course I do.” Stop talking me out of this. “You said it yourself earlier. I acted like my birthright was a punishment, because I thought it was. I thought it was going to force me to stay there, to live a life stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

Broderic flinches, his head shaking slightly. He opens his mouth.

So I deliver one final blow. “And now I won’t have to marry someone for their money.”

The look on his face—it’s the same as the day Dad died. I force myself to keep staring at him until he turns away.

“Well,” Queen Selestina says quietly, “I suppose that’s settled.”

“Is it?” Patron Velesont asks as he leans forward on his cane, but there’s something new gleaming in his eyes. It’s as wicked as before, but it makes my skin crawl in a different way, like I’ve walked through a spider’s web and the silk is still clinging to my skin. “Where will she go?”

“Planning to adopt her?” Bishop asks him gruffly. “How charitable.” But he shoots a look at the queen.

She hesitates just long enough for me to see her determination waver. “She will stay here, for the time being,” she tacks on like the thought unnerves her. Then she rises, and all the patrons quickly follow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest. I have a funeral to arrange in the morning.”

The high vesper moves beside her, whispering with a comforting smile as they leave the room.

My legs are unsteady as I turn to leave, but I’m unable to resist glancing at Broderic. He’s staring at the floor like I broke him. Something cracks in my chest, threatening to spill out, and I take a quick step away from the table.

Bishop appears at my side and grips my elbow, guiding me toward the door. I wait for my brother to follow.

He doesn’t.

“He believed you,” Bishop whispers when we’re out of the room.

“Maybe because I was telling the truth.” I can only sell the lie if I’m willing to keep pretending. This is the price of my birthright. Maybe I am the harbinger. Maybe I was sent to destroy everyone, starting with myself.

NINE

The grounds are busier than usual this morning. Flags are still lowered to half-mast, like they’ve been for three days now.

Three days that I’ve counted with the rise and fall of the sun, ever since Bishop dumped me in his room after the council meeting and vanished. Vessica is the only one who’s bothered to come, but only to deliver meals with little more than a grunt to acknowledge my existence.

Fine by me. After my last words to Broderic, I’m not in the mood for conversation.

The springs squeak as I push off the bed and walk over to stare out the window.

Gray clouds hover as if the heavens also know it’s time for the funeral. I keep far enough from the sill that no one spots me watching the constant stream of deliveries. Only the damn oscen continues to show up to perch on the battlement. It’s the only one that seems to care that I’m here.

The things I said that night to Broderic play on a loop in my head. I can’t escape them any more than I can escape the palace.

Coaches begin to arrive midday, hauling the city’s wealthy either for show or from overly delicate refinement. Because who can be bothered to walk the few steps up the royal drive and risk ruining their shoes in the snow?

A knock startles me from my thoughts. I glance at the clock on the desk, one of the few amenities my new room has to offer. I’ve already eaten breakfast, and supper is hours away. No one has bothered to acknowledge my existence for any other reason.

The change in schedule is enough to make me pause at the door before opening it. At least a murder attempt would break up the monotony.

Vessica is on the other side. She holds out a fresh set of clothing. “These are for you.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken to me since the king died, and her expression says she’s not enthused to be breaking her silence.