Page 218 of Harbinger

Laurel blinks. “Okay?”

“I’ll go.” I lower the sword an inch. “Just give me the antidote. I’ll take it back. Let me say goodbye. I won’t tell them anything.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” Her real laugh is ugly.

“Please.” I take a half step toward her. “They’re my family.”

She hesitates, allowing the smallest crack in her plan, and it’s exactly the one I need.

I move, heart hammering against my ribs.

It’s the same recovery Bishop drilled into me over and over again in the rain. Step in. Hook the wrist. Twist. My free hand closes over hers, catching her by surprise, and she drops the vial in the brush at our feet.

Stefan wraps his fist around the pommel of his sword, and I point my own at Laurel’s throat.

“Don’t move,” I warn him.

But he laughs, the sound of it as dry as cracking ice.

“That’s the spirit,” he says. He draws his own sword in no hurry at all. “I’ve just been waiting for an excuse. Lady Laurel, why don’t you head back now?”

Laurel’s eyes flick from the sword aimed at her to him. “What?”

Exactly what I was thinking.

“Your uncle will be just as satisfied with her heart. He’s always happy when I bring him hearts. You know that. He might prefer her alive, but he’ll accept her dead.” He flexes his shoulders.

“And how do you expect me to walk away?” she seethes, still staring at my weapon.

“She won’t kill you,” he says.

I grit my teeth. “Try me.”

Laurel’s mouth opens. Closes. “But the antidote … without it …”

Shit. Maybe she meant it. My stance slips, sword wavering slightly. Stefan lunges, his sword knocking mine wide with a clang. Laurel darts behind him, eyes wide over his shoulder. I step into guard, waiting for him to strike.

“Just finish her,” Laurel orders, “so we can go back and give them the antidote. I’m not interested in killing a child.”

But Stefan shakes his head. Apparently, he’s done taking her orders. “Three patrons gone in a single evening, in a Marius outpost no less—even Bishop himself. Think how easy it will be to convince the rest of the court to consolidate power and close ranks.”

“My uncle said—”

“He’ll be delighted.”

She looks at the antidote on the ground, a decision moving across her face in stages. The flicker of grief. Real, I think. But then there’s recalculation. And finally, acceptance.

She tosses her head back, lifting her chin.

“You made your choice,” she says, determination erasing any regret. “Now your whole family dies.”

She walks past us without another look in my direction.

I brace as she passes the tree line.

Stefan comes at me fast, swinging low. I parry the first strike, twist out of the second, but by the third, he’s got our swords crossed as he pushes mine back. I almost lose my footing against his strength. There’s nowhere to go.

He shoves at me, advancing another step. But his heel snags, and he stumbles just enough for me to duck to his left. The forest floor is roots and stones and dips, and the man hasn’t trained on it.