Page 86 of Harbinger

“Are you sure about that?” I tap my chest. “Everyone else seems to think—”

“No one thinks,” he cuts me off, his lip curling slightly. “That’s the problem. One supposed omen, and everyone loses their heads.”

“Agreed.” I lift the bottle.

“And I will not invade.” The quiet determination in his voice makes me believe him.

Unfortunately, all the wine inside me has questions. “What if you’re ordered to?”

“Duty only matters if you still have a choice,” he says. “Once that’s gone, it’s just obedience.”

“Is that why you don’t force the children to join the army?”

“People trying to survive don’t have choices. They obey. They endure. They become whatever keeps them breathing.” He looks out at the sea. “The innocent deserve more than that. They deserve the right to decide who they become.”

I pluck a patch of moss off the railing, noticing how several of the balusters are starting to crumble. “I’m not sure the crown agrees.”

“The crown doesn’t know.”

Maybe the wine is loosening his tongue, too, so I ask the obvious question. “How? You must have to report numbers to them for funding and supplies.”

Turning, he surveys Miradores with narrowed eyes like he can see it clearly, even in the dark. Then he sighs and takes a drink from the bottle. “I’ve found ways to make up the difference.”

I glance at the house. I don’t need light to know what he sees: a few poorly patched windows, plaster in need of repair, spots where the wood framing is soft with rot. A lump forms in my throat. “That’s why so many things need to be fixed,” I say softly. “Why you don’t have a staff. Why the garden is dead.”

He’s using his own money to take care of those children.

“I let the garden die when my family did.” But he nods and passes me the bottle like we’re sealing some pact. “The rest is my secret.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I say, meaning it. Whatever doubts I have about Bishop, this I can respect.

“They’ll figure it out eventually.” He grimaces like the words taste sour. “Calix keeps sniffing around, asking to inspect our infrastructure. They suspect. Velesont and Leontia, too.”

The bottle nearly slips from my hand, and I set it down before I drop it. It’s not just about funding. The Bellatorum must be using more resources and supplies, too.

“Your family is the only one not asking questions.” He gives me a pointed look.

It’s my turn to spill what I know, but I can’t help snorting. “My dad used to say that we don’t care how many mouths there are, as long as they’re fed. But then, we’ve never been very good with money or politics.” Or maybe one of us might have noticed.

“Maybe that’s why the Stars chose you.”

His words send my stomach spiraling. I don’t know what to say, so I just stand beside him, letting the sea spray slowly soak my hair.

Bishop grips the railing, eyes darker than the sea below. “Sometimes, I think the problem isn’t that the estate is falling apart or that it’s empty. The problem is that it’s not empty enough. Every room feels haunted.”

His words tug at the ache inside me, calling out to some part of me that knows what it’s like to live with regrets, if not ghosts. My fingers brush one of the pale lines on his knuckle, tracing it without thinking.

Bishop sucks in a ragged breath, and his hand tightens on the railing like he’s anchoring himself to it. He looks at me, and for the first time I see the fear that he must usually hide behind that armor.

“You could tell me,” I murmur. “What they are, I mean. I won’t judge.”

He laughs again, but it’s softer this time. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

I think of the mark on my chest, how people flinch when they see me, the way the world seems to speed up every time I attempt to stand still. “Try me,” I say.

But he straightens and releases his grip on the railing. “It’s late. We should go in.”

That’s the problem with Bishop. If he lets you past one wall, it’s just because he’s already building a new one. Maybe the only way to make him stop is to let him past one of mine.