Page 68 of Inextricably Tied

Even when things with Agony didn’t make sense, even when Harbinger learned the OID had tricked her, Flint was beside her no matter what. They would always figure it out together, whatever that meant.

“And —”

But Poe stops. Her lip quivers, eyes darting toward Omen. He gives the smallest shake of his head. Words beg to spill — something Poe’s seen. Something the Sight gave her. But Poe keeps her mouth clamped shut.

“Just consider removing Agony’s cuffs,” Omen supplies. “You can’t keep him chained up forever. Unless it is a sex thing.”

Poe’s smile is watery. “You have a new family, Harbinger. You’re always welcome with us, but this isn’t where you’re supposed to be.”

It’s that ledge Harbinger’s always inching toward. Dark enough that she can’t see over, a place to step out without knowing where she might land. It would be easier to stay here, even as she knows it would destroy her. A place where she knows what to expect. Where the people have lived the same lives. Have seen her through dark times. Know her trauma without Harbinger having to say a word.

Her lip trembles. “But I’m happy with you.”

“You’re happy with us,” Poe agrees. “But don’t pretend you’re happy here. Don’t let the Convent take anything else from you. It’s not your home any more, if it ever was.”

Omen’s hand finds Harbinger’s, squeezing as tightly as he can. He and Poe let their emotions through the reflective surface, turning into a warm and sticky mess that Harbinger can’t avoid. She sinks back and lets it wash over her.

“It was.”

The bind around Harbinger’s chest loosens as she descends from Poe’s room, mulling over the truth she’s avoided since she left this place. Children scamper down the great staircase, scurrying to their new classes.

“Harbinger.”

The thought of Poe or Omen following makes her stop. But when Harbinger turns, she’s met with black robes and clasped hands.

Auspice. Diviner Superior.

“It’s Seer Harbinger.” Malice laces Harbinger’s tongue. “Or have you forgotten our customs?”

“Those titles are reserved for those that remain within our practice.” Auspice drifts closer. Harbinger’s head aches, fending off the drip of Auspice’s emotions inside her. “But we could make an exception. It could be your title again.”

The bustle of class changes fades in the distance, conversations and footsteps dying as doors close, leaving the two of them alone.

“What are you talking about?”

Auspice keeps her chin raised, looking down at Harbinger to bestow a glorious purpose. All these years, and it’s still the same; Auspice’s curtailed emotions prod through Harbinger’s skin. She hates the feeling. Hates feeling her.

“The Diviners have discussed it. We could accept you back into our fold and provide you with housing among the other Seers. Despite the way you left, it has been decided that we will allow you to return to the Convent…under a few conditions.”

A disbelieving laugh tugs on Harbinger’s lips. “Are you joking?”

“There’s plenty of use for your power here. Our patrons would benefit from your gift, and it would be a wonderful way for you to give thanks to the Oracle. To express your gratitude for what She’s given you.”

Rage lights a wick inside of Harbinger. “I’m not coming back here again. Ever. I shouldn’t have come this time.”

Auspice clucks her tongue. “Divine purpose has chosen you. You’ve known that since you were a child. There’s no glory or grace in resisting for the sake of rebellion.”

Fury floods half a smile onto Harbinger’s face as she tries to keep her voice even. “If you think some childish rebellion is what keeps me from coming back here, you’re kidding yourself.”

“Look at the creatures you’ve made acquaintances with.” Auspice’s voice lowers, body looming over Harbinger. “One of them is in handcuffs. It’s not the first time we’ve aided — troubled visitors, but you won’t find virtue there. You’re squandering your glorious gift following treacherous roads. They are not the paths to righteousness. The Oracle does not reward reckless charity.”

She plucks a worn spot on Harbinger’s suit. Harbinger smacks her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

There’s pity in Auspice’s eyes. “I know we’ve had our differences. But your gift is too important, your value too great. Don’t let all you’ve been given go to waste.”

Harbinger descends the stairs as Auspice calls after her.

“If you insist, we could create a new position for you. One that allows you to travel and spread the Oracle’s word, giving your gift to the community. But you would have to return to the Convent —”