Page 56 of Harbinger

It’s practically jerky now, dry and smoky, but I’m too hungry to complain. I hate how quickly it disappears.

The postern’s lines glow faintly when Bishop picks it up and studies it. “It’s powered up just enough. We’ll need to be quick.”

“Wonderful,” I say, dread pooling in my belly as I realize there’s something I hate more than posterns. Half-powered posterns.

Bishop traces a pattern over the disc with a gloved finger. Lines glow under his touch, forming a constellation.

“What about Velesont?” I ask in a quieter voice. “Will they know if I go through this?”

“Yes, but that’s the point.” He draws another smaller pattern, and the postern flickers with soft blue light. “They’ll know exactly where you are. No other order will dare breach Vennaro. Stay put, and you’ll be safe.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

He actually considers. “Why not both?”

Safe as long as I stay where he wants me. I cross my arms to hide the tremor in my hands. “Fine. After you.”

But safety also means I’ll be able to figure out what the hell is going on.

He vanishes into the ring of blue light as soon as his boots hit the postern’s threshold. I grit my teeth and brace for that gut-emptying cold, but this time I manage not to stumble, reaching out to rest a hand on a nearby wall. We’ve travelled to a room. I take a single step into it, and the swirling light fades, erasing all signs of the postern save for the slightest trace of an arch. It blends into the wall so well, I can barely tell where it is now.

The air inside is warm, the rug thick beneath my feet, and straight ahead is a hearth so massive I could walk into the fire and not touch either side. Mismatched chairs are scattered about, some so tall they look like thrones, others squat and inviting. A long oak table looks comfortable but regal. Ceiling beams arch overhead like wooden ribs, and the windows are barred with iron so that only the fading twilight can get through. The room sprawls wider than my family’s entire estate. The horned wolf is everywhere—in the woodwork, on the banners, even carved into the mantel. Despite the size, the room feels lived in, not imposing. The scent of woodsmoke and the hissing of the fire are our only welcoming party.

Bishop shakes off his coat, then picks up the coin-sized disc again, and his shoulders relax. He looks around, and I catch a flicker of relief crossing his face.

He strides to the hearth and throws another log onto the fire while I stand slack-jawed.

“Is this your house?”

He shrugs. “My family’s.”

“You just … brought me to your actual house?”

First his quarters. Now this? Bishop has no boundaries.

“Is that a problem?” He lifts a brow like I should have figured this out already. “You’re safer here than anywhere else.”

“I’m surprised you trust me,” I admit.

“Trust?” He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s not go that far. Should I be concerned you’re going to burn the place down?”

I glare at him, but my adrenaline is already dropping, replaced by exhaustion and something dangerously close to gratitude.

I’m in the heart of his world, and he’s the only thing standing between me and everyone who wants me dead.

It’s a terrifying kind of safety.

A woman barrels into the great room like a force of nature. She’s plump, with cheeks as round as apples and nearly as red. Her gray-streaked hair is tied back with a blue scarf, and her apron is dusted with so much flour, it looks like she wrestled a bag of it and lost.

Her eyes land on me, and her mouth forms a perfect O. She swings an accusing look at Bishop. “Oh, for the love of Stars, why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a guest?” she says, hands on hips. “I don’t have supper prepared.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You always have enough food around for a battalion, Lenora. I didn’t think you’d mind.” He looks at me. “Lenora keeps everything from falling apart.”

“I’m just the housekeeper,” she says, rolling her eyes, but I can see she’s pleased by his flattery. She shakes a finger at him. “What’s done is done. But one of these days …”

Bishop has the sense to look sheepish.

Lenora turns to me, her appraisal quick but thorough. “You look like you’ve walked through the gates of all seven hells. Come, come, let’s get you situated. I’m sure I can scare up something to eat.”