Page 72 of Harbinger

“Assassinate is a strong word. I wanted to see what you’re made of.”

“Flesh and blood. Just like you.” I pin my gaze on the small line of blood on his neck.

Taliesin laughs and rubs his thumb along the cut. Blood smears across his skin, but he doesn’t even wince.

Bishop isn’t amused. “Get cleaned up before you drip blood all over your uniform.”

“Yes, sir,” Taliesin says, bowing dramatically.

“We’ll discuss this later,” Bishop adds.

Taliesin straightens, brows drawing together as he searches Bishop’s face. Whatever he finds there sends him hurrying to join the others.

Bishop turns and fixes his attention on me. “You’re bleeding.” His words are clipped. Nothing more than a statement of fact. But there’s a flicker of concern running through them like a hairline fissure in a sheet of ice.

“It’s nothing.” The cut on my arm starts to throb as soon as I say it, and I cover the wound with my hand.

He isn’t fooled. “Let me see.”

When I hesitate, he stalks forward and holds out a hand.

“Let me see,” he repeats.

I surrender my arm for inspection, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. There’s definitely a lecture in my future. Probably some warning about finding myself on the wrong end of a sword—as if that had been my idea. Or maybe he’ll fire Taliesin from his chaperone duties and leave me to my own devices. That’s likely wishful thinking.

But Bishop cradles my arm with a gentleness that surprises me, his hands warm even through his leather gloves. He’s quiet as he peels back my blood-soaked sleeve, but his gaze darkens like the storm clouds over us as he examines the cut.

Reaching for his cloak, he pauses just long enough to meet my eyes. “It’s clean,” he murmurs before dabbing the blood with the thick fabric. His fingers brush over my skin, and a shiver races up my spine, settling with a tingle at the base of my neck.

“Am I going to live?” My dry tone sounds heavy to my own ears.

“Not if you keep trusting strangers with swords.” He frowns as the wound continues to bleed.

“Says the stranger with a sword who keeps rescuing me.” I pull my arm away from him. It still stings, but I slide my sleeve back down, trying to ignore how his gaze lingers longer than necessary.

“You’re welcome,” Bishop says.

“I didn’t say thank you.”

“I’m sure you meant to.” He nods at my arm. “We can bandage that inside.”

By we, I hope he means me. It’s bad enough that he had to step in. Again. But being vulnerable in front of a man like him … I can’t afford for Bishop to know more of my weaknesses.

“He wouldn’t hurt you,” Bishop says quietly as we turn to leave.

The cut on my arm says otherwise, but I shrug. Taliesin wanted to learn something about me, but I learned something about him in the process. Despite his flirtations and eagerness to fight, he thinks before he acts. He could have killed me. He really wanted me to give him a reason to stop him.

“If he tries something like that again, tell him no.”

I snort. “He doesn’t seem like the type who listens.”

Actually, something tells me that Taliesin makes up his own mind. It’s an unusual trait for a knight. I doubt it means he’s good at taking orders.

Bishop sighs like he knows this, too. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

I follow beside him in silence.

“We have six pools. You’re welcome to use them,” Bishop says as we reach the side of the building and he opens the door.