Page 215 of Harbinger

Laurel opens her mouth as though she might argue, but she hesitates and says, “We’ll be back for dessert.”

Wonderful. Another course to suffer through. I can’t wait to see what drama is served next.

I push past Laurel and make for the door. I’d thought it bad manners to wear a weapon at the table, so my baldric is in the bedroom. But I need out of this house now. I grab one of Bishop’s many others and strap it around my waist.

I’m not sure Bishop really thought through arming me in her presence.

The spring air nips our cheeks as we step outside, but it’s pleasant enough that the yard between the cottage and the barracks is packed with troops. The lamps are lit, and smoke drifts from a firepit. There are more than a few groups playing Liar’s Hand. Others stroll the perimeter of the gate. It’s as if everyone is celebrating the equinox and the blessed arrival of a new season.

“I can barely hear myself think out here.” Laurel rolls her eyes. She loops her arm through mine as though we’ve been friends for years and digs her fingers into my skin like she does my brother. “It’s quieter back there.”

She glances to where the yard continues in the direction of the Cinderwald.

I hesitate.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I haven’t seen the oscen all day. Maybe it’s already begun its flight back to Vennaro. I can’t count on it keeping me from becoming a wolf’s supper.

“Stefan is with us.” She giggles like caution is a ludicrous concept. “And you have a sword. You can protect me.”

Maybe I’ll let a wolf eat her instead. Though chances seem slim with Stefan four paces behind us.

“I know about Miranda,” she says as we stroll. “I know that’s why you don’t like me.”

I stop myself from telling her that’s only one reason. “Broderic made his choice. I respect that.”

Not that he’ll ever grant me the same consideration.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect from Damalis.” Her head tips back to look at the night sky. “The stars are brighter here than in Isoldoro. It’s … peaceful.”

From the way the word sticks as she says it, I’m not sure she sees it as a good thing.

“Not used to it yet?”

She shakes her head. “Someday.”

We walk until the lantern light from the yard is a glow in the distance and the sounds of revelry fade.

“That’s better,” Laurel says, letting go of my arm.

I rub the spot where her fingers clutched me. “You wanted to talk. About what?”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m glad.”

“Glad?”

“That the queen has recognized you as patron, assuming that letter was any indication. It’s wonderful news.” She turns to face me, and the practiced charm slips. It’s not gone entirely. More like paint beginning to flake after too much wear. “Broderic doesn’t see the bigger picture. He never does.”

“And what is the bigger picture?”

“War is coming.” She says it the way most people announce it’s going to rain. “The Stars marked you, Arden. They wouldn’t have without reason.”

I take a half step back without meaning to. “You think I am the harbinger.”

She smiles. “I’m counting on it. My uncle is, too.”

“Why?” The question barely leaves my mouth before Stefan’s arm hooks across my chest, pinning my elbows against my ribs. Another hand clamps over my mouth.

I bite it.