Page 189 of Harbinger

“I am supposed to keep you safe, not …” He stops, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Not fuck me,” I finish for him when he refuses to say it.

He winces. “Not get distracted.”

A hollow laugh bursts out of me. “So, pushing me away is your big solution?”

What about the Turning? The baths? He said it meant something. He saved my mother’s locket. How can he act like there’s nothing between us?

“I have to.” He drags a hand through his hair, refusing to look at me.

For a second, I only stare. “So that’s it, then?” I finally say. “You’re just going to pretend nothing happened between us?”

He doesn’t flinch. “I’m a bishop. I swore an oath.”

I jab a finger into his chest so hard that he actually rocks back a step. “This isn’t because you’re a bishop.” My voice cracks, and I swallow. “It’s because you’re a coward. Just like I was that night in the baths. You convinced me to live again, remember?”

He can’t take that back now. But his face remains as stony as the nearby statues.

I don’t bother waiting for an answer before I turn and hurry toward the proving grounds, the threat of tears stinging my eyes.

When I reach them, Shea is waiting, already suited up in her training uniform. She takes one look at my face and frowns. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say, ignoring the lump lingering in my throat as I tighten the strap on my left bracer. “Let’s just get started.”

Shea nods, but she doesn’t look convinced, shaking her head before we continue to the weapons rack. She pauses to consider her choice. I just grab the first sword I see. Its blade is longer than I’m accustomed to, but isn’t that the whole point of this exercise—to throw me in the water and see if I drown?

Taliesin meets us as we head into the arena. “Ready?” he asks, eyeing me like he expects me to explode.

“More than ready,” I growl.

Taliesin and Shea share a look.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shea asks again as we take our places.

“I’m fine,” I snap as Taliesin circles us, pausing just once to assess my grip.

The ground beneath our boots is packed down from yesterday’s rain, the broken stones a hazardous mix of jagged rocks, sand, and mud. Cold air gusts through the training pit, carrying the briny scent of the sea.

“Remember, you’re not friends when there are swords in your hands,” he mutters low enough that Shea can’t hear him. He’s smiling, but the words are so cold, they raise the hairs on the back of my neck. “Okay. Rules are simple: first to disarm or land a blow to the neck, chest, or head gets the point.”

I’m not sure I can take any more blows today. Not after the one Bishop just delivered to my heart.

Taliesin steps away and nods for us to begin. I plant my foot, my sword only half raised when Shea lunges, her blade aimed at my ribs. I block it, barely, the shock of the sudden impact vibrating through my fingers.

Stop thinking about him and fight.

Shea moves for the left, second blow coming before I can reset my stance. I twist awkwardly, only for her sword to arc over her head and slice down, narrowly avoiding my right shoulder. But it’s a distraction. Her sword cuts low, and I stumble back, losing my footing as the blade taps my thigh. I hit the ground hard, the air punching from my lungs with a force that rattles my teeth.

“One!” Taliesin calls.

I blink up at Shea as she offers me a hand. I guess Taliesin was right about not being friends in here. Ignoring her extended hand, I scramble back to my feet. People are trying to kill me. This is survival. I need to learn to protect myself—because I’m not sure I can stay in Vennaro. And the last thing I want is to prove that Bishop’s right, that I’m so weak he has to protect me instead of …

“Taliesin told me not to go easy on you,” she says, almost apologetically, as we begin to circle each other.

“Good.” I flex my wrist, rebalancing the weight of my sword. “You won’t break me.”

And neither will he. I won’t let him.