Page 65 of Harbinger

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He follows me outside. This time, he doesn’t offer me his arm. “It’s only a short walk.” He sniffs the air. “But it’s probably going to rain. We could take the postern by the gate.”

Despite the clouds, the sun is shining. “No postern,” I say quickly, my stomach lurching just at the thought of it. I’d much rather get caught in a downpour.

Taliesin nods. “Might as well get a lay of the land while you figure things out.”

Maybe he doesn’t want to kill me. Maybe he wants me to escape.

Or Bishop does.

Either way, they’re right about one thing—I need to figure out what I’m going to do next. I can’t just hide in Bishop’s home forever.

I scratch at the mark on my chest but change the subject to something safer. For now. “Does it rain here often?”

“We pick up most of the storms off the sea. Rain can’t seem to make it over the mountains, so it all gets dumped on us. Some sun in summer and fall, but once winter hits …”

“Vennaro must be mostly mud, then.” I know from experience that while rain is a blessing, too much of it can be a curse.

“And fog. The mist gets so thick some days, you could get turned around just walking into the garden.” He glances at me, eyes twinkling. “But I expect you’ll find your way.”

It’s definitely like he wants me to run.

“Careful,” Taliesin advises as we start toward the gates of the estate. Wild grass shoots through cracks in the path, and the dead leaves scattered across the broken stone crunch under our feet. “Some of these need replacing.”

Quite a few, actually. Nearly half are cracked past the point of repair, and several are so loose that I nearly trip. But when I try to avoid them, my boots sink into the muddy spaces between stones.

The grounds between the house and the gated entrance are in the same shape as the garden. Towering evergreens stand sentry along the drive. Some are so overgrown that their branches droop from the weight of their own ambitions. Others show signs of disease, their brittle, brown needles clinging to scraggly branches or dumped at the base of their trunks. Brambles have sprung up between them, edging so close to the walkway that they tear at my sleeves as we pass.

My family’s estate in Damalis is just barely in worse shape. Although Lenora is doing a better job keeping up the actual house than we have.

“There’s really no one to tend the grounds?”

“Are you volunteering?” Taliesin moves a low-hanging branch out of our path.

“Me and what army?” I shake my head. This is too much work for a single person. “Or can I borrow yours?”

“Bishop has never really cared about the grounds.” He shrugs, stepping over a giant puddle. “His father did, but now that he’s gone, it’s not a priority.”

I consider asking him more about Bishop’s family but stop myself. People die. It’s an unfortunate fact of life, and one I know all too well. But, unlike my family, Order Marius should have money and means.

Beyond the gardens, set high on a rocky rise, a narrow tower cuts into the fog, its domed crown catching the light like a watchful eye.

“That tower,” I say, nodding toward it. “Is that the Bellatorum?”

Taliesin snorts. “That’s the astrolatory. It’s a couple of miles’ hike up from the Bellatorum.”

“That seems a bit hard to reach.” The remote location would be more fitting for a military fortress. “How does anyone visit it?”

“No one really bothers with rituals or watching for omens here.” There’s a note of judgment in his voice. “Bishop thinks any real threat will come from the sea, not the Stars.”

Most people build their lives around the Stars. Bishop tries to ignore them. I swear the mark on my chest twinges like it’s itching to prove him wrong.

I press a hand over it to smother that feeling. It’s nothing more than a phantom ache, a hit of fear followed by a sickening rush of relief.

When we reach the wooden bridge that connects the estate’s spit of land with the main territory, I’m relieved to see it’s well-maintained given the choppy water below. White-capped waves roll and crest before crashing into the rocky shoreline, and gusts of wind knock into us as we cross. But on the other side, even the solid ground beneath my feet feels shaky.

Taliesin tells me stories as we walk, each slightly more improbable than the last.

“I was considering settling down until she tried to poison me,” he says after filling me in on his most recent failed love affair.