Page 77 of Harbinger

We’re only a few steps away from the kitchen door when Bishop stops and faces me. “You still think I’m a villain in this story.”

I search his face for how to answer, but as usual, he’s completely unreadable. Maybe that’s what he wants me to think. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t the one to take me to the Bellatorum. Because now … “I think you’re something else entirely.”

His mouth opens like he might ask what that is. Like maybe he’s not sure himself. But he doesn’t speak.

Neither of us moves. His gaze drops to my mouth, and heat rises to my cheeks in stark contrast to the chill in the air. That invisible string between us goes taut, but I can’t look away. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pine, and mingles with the warmth radiating from him. A gust whips a strand of hair across my eyes, but before I can brush it away, Bishop raises his hand, reaching toward me.

Only to stop himself.

His fingers curl into a fist. He drops his arm again and breaks the silence. “I’m going to Wintour for a few days.”

“What? Why?” He can’t leave me here. He was only gone for a few hours this morning, and Taliesin had a sword to my throat by the afternoon.

“You’ll be safe,” he says as if reading my mind. Maybe he actually can. “The queen summoned me. It might be related to her brother’s assassination. I have to go.”

“Take me with you.” I blurt out the request. Catching the king’s killer will at least stop the rumors that I did it. “I can’t stand by and let my family bear the risk if—”

“Nothing will happen to them.”

“Like nothing happened to the king?” Instantly, I wish I could take it back.

His jaw clenches, but his voice is steady. “Don’t worry. I learn from my mistakes. But I need to focus. I won’t be able to do that if you’re tagging along. This is dangerous work, and you have a way to go with a sword before you’re ready to wield one.”

He might be talking about the sword, but his words land somewhere else. On the mark hiding under my shirt that I’m also not ready to wield—and probably never will be.

I flush deeper. “Is that why Taliesin tested me?”

Bishop doesn’t answer. “I’ll be back soon.”

What’s the point of arguing? I’m an inconvenience to him. Nothing more.

I turn toward the kitchen door, but he doesn’t follow.

I can’t just sit around and wait for someone to attack me again. I can’t wait for someone else to absolve me.

There are a dozen reasons why I might be safer here, but until this is over, my family isn’t. Bishop believes he’s protecting me, but protecting them is my job.

I turn to tell him that, but he’s already disappearing back into the fog.

How many sides are there to a man like him? The same number as there are stars in the sky?

I start after him, but something stops me. Maybe it’s the part of me that knows he’s right. Maybe it’s the side of him I saw today.

Inside, the house is warm and bright. There’s a tray of cookies cooling on the table. I snag one, silently cursing Bishop for leaving me while he disappears again.

But I can’t stop thinking about Breccan, about Shea, about the strange, fragile hope that survives even here. Maybe I’m wrong about everything in Vennaro.

But if today taught me anything, it’s that I can’t risk letting my guard down. Especially with a man willing to hold a sword to his friend’s throat. Not before I figure out why Bishop protected me. Again.

SIXTEEN

“Twelvetide is almost here,” Lenora announces one rare sunny morning.

Her greeting is an unwelcome reminder that time keeps moving here whether I want it to or not. Especially since each morning brings the possibility that I’ll wake up with Ravenell magic burning in my veins.

“So?” I finish lacing my collar and turn to find her holding a tray laden with pastries and fresh coffee. Clearly it’s a bribe, although I don’t know what she wants from me. Twelvetide is still six weeks away.

Over the last several days, she’s chased me from the kitchen, fussed over my choice to wear pants instead of dresses, and refused to allow me to help with even the simplest task—only to show up with food at every opportunity. I can’t decide if she’s pleased to have a guest with Bishop away on business so often, or if I’m one more chore added to her list.