Page 49 of Harbinger

Bishop groans. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”

“I’m not stopping us,” I snap, still refusing to look at him.

“But we’re not taking the coach.” He holds the door open.

This gets my attention. “What?”

“No. Time,” he repeats, like somehow it’s an answer.

I force myself onto my feet. It’s not as though I have a lot of options. “What is the plan exactly? Or do you even know?”

“Your confidence is inspiring.” He doesn’t bother to offer me his hand again as I climb down the steps. “I would have told you, but you were occupied.”

He’s actually annoyed. Like letting me have a few final moments with my old life is a huge sacrifice. Heartless bastard.

The other knight—the one with the scars on the side of his neck and face—grins at me from the coachman’s seat. “Sorry, it’s my fault,” Taliesin says, winking at me as he lifts a hood over his head. His dirty-blond hair is short but long enough on top to flop to one side. “I told some jackass from Calix you and I would be leaving around noon.”

The coach is just another distraction.

Eyeing Bishop, I realize he does have a plan—and he’s not going to share it with me.

Bishop checks the horses’ harness before turning to him. “No one will attack until you’re outside the city limits. Be prepared—”

“To fight?” Taliesin’s smile widens. “I’m looking forward to it.” He snaps the reins and urges the horses forward. He lifts a hand when he reaches the exit. “See you in hell.”

Charming.

Bishop moves to close the carriage house doors.

“Before you ask where we’re going again,” he says, picking up a pack from the ground. He rummages in one of its side pockets before pulling something out. “I should warn you that I’m not used to answering questions.”

Probably because he’s usually giving orders. The kind that no one dares to question.

Maybe I should have gone with his knight.

“Will you really send those troops to Damalis?” I ask.

He looks up from the small object he’s fiddling with in his hands and frowns. “You have my word.”

“And that’s good enough?” I cross my arms.

His face darkens. “Are you questioning the word of a bishop?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you gave me some idea what you’re planning.”

This earns another groan. I’m shaping up to be his favorite person.

“I’m taking you somewhere no one will dare to look for you.”

Well, that sounds familiar. “You said that before.” I shrug. “Shouldn’t I just stay in your room here if that’s the big plan?”

“No one would think to look for you there,” he corrects me. “That’s what I told you. I said no one will dare to look for you where we’re going.” He stops playing with the gadget and stares me down. “But if you want to take your chances, so be it. So far, there are only three assassins in the city who have been hired to kill you. Decent odds, if you’re up on your sword work.”

Point fucking taken.

I sway slightly at the idea that three people in Wintour are out to kill me. How many more want me dead?

“Take your time deciding,” he drawls. “It’s your life, not mine.”