TEN #3
“You weren’t hungry then.” He laughs. The sound is as brief and sharp as the knife in his hands. “Mercy is a privilege the starving can’t afford.” He spears the carcass on a stick and holds it out to me. “I’ll start the fire.”
I glance at the sky darkening overhead. Clouds roll across the rapidly setting sun, a heavy dampness thickening the air. “It’s going to rain.”
“It won’t be more than a drizzle,” he says, continuing to brace logs as the first misty drops hit my skin.
Without a fire, cooking might be a privilege we can’t afford, either.
But instead of a match, Bishop traces a nochtimetric pattern in the dirt with a stick.
Nothing happens, and he curses, erasing the lines with the toe of his boot.
I don’t know what he expects from damp soil.
But when he draws it again, the lines flare blue, then white, and the wood bursts into flames even as the rain picks up a little.
“How?” I lean to study the markings.
“Military grade,” he explains. “Burns in any weather, but it can take a few tries. The magic is tricky but necessary. You’ll understand when we reach Vennaro.”
The name lands like a stone in my stomach. “That’s where we’re going?”
We’re already on the border of Florentia, close to the Stygia Mountains. I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to me that he’s taking me there.
“It’s the only place no one will dare come after you.”
But I snort. “Easy for you to say when you’re not the one being hunted.”
His eyes flash. “You think I’ve never been hunted?” For a moment, we just stare at each other until he adds, “You’ll be safe there.”
Because it’s his territory. The only way inside Vennaro—if you weren’t born there—is to volunteer for military service.
The region is nearly impossible to reach from most of Antares due to the deadliness of the mountains.
Its coast is fortified with Marius strongholds to deter any threat coming from the Baron Sea.
And then there are the troops, trained like soldiers but guarding the territory like they’re little more than packs of the wolves embroidered on their uniforms. There will be no mercy for anyone who trespasses on his land.
I stare at the flames, watching the fat pop and sizzle as the rabbit roasts. “Have you ever had the privilege of mercy?” I ask him quietly.
He’s silent for so long I think he’s going to ignore me. Then: “Once.”
I wait, but that’s all he gives me.
“Let me guess, you let the mosquitoes bite you at the lake,” I say, rolling my eyes, “without swatting them.”
“When I stopped hunting down the man who killed my parents and brother.” He doesn’t look at me, but there’s a rawness in his voice that tells me the grief is still there.
And now I feel like the asshole.
“Any other questions?” he adds quietly.
Not about that. But if I don’t get some answers, I’ll be killed, too.
“Why does everyone want me dead?” I ask, finally working up the courage. “What changed since the council meeting?”
“Everything,” he says.
Well, no shit. I grind my teeth and try again.
“Look, I’m sure people hunt you all the time, but it’s new to me. So, I’ve got a few questions. Like what the seven hells this mark means.” I thump my chest for emphasis. “It’s not even doing anything yet. I don’t feel any different than before. I need—”
“I know exactly what you need,” he interrupts. “You want to know what happens when your magic awakens.” He pauses. “So does everyone hunting you. That’s why I’m taking you somewhere you might find the answers.”
My eyes widen. Was that really so hard for him to share?
Apparently so, because he doesn’t add more. I debate needling him until he tells me what he thinks it all means, but my shoulders sag with fatigue. Tomorrow is soon enough to face how fucked I really am.
We split up the rabbit, devouring it in silence as night falls. The moon is lost behind a bank of clouds, but the stars are bright enough to burn holes in the night.
Bishop rolls his shoulders. “Get some sleep. We’ll leave at sunrise.”
But I stay by the fire a little longer, watching the flames eat through the last of the wood.
Maybe Vennaro is where this ends. Maybe it’s where I finally learn why Bishop Marius is helping me. Or maybe it’s where I disappear forever, leaving nothing behind but rumors and whispers. Either way my magic is still sleeping like it has all the time in the world, even if I don’t.
I glance at Bishop, but for once he isn’t watching me. He just sits staring into the distance like he’s alone. Like I’m not right next to him. He doesn’t move when I finally climb under the blanket.
If I were braver, I’d ask what happened to him. I’d ask about the patterns on his skin, the book he stole, the things he doesn’t say.
But I don’t. I stare up at the star burning brightly at the center of the Night’s Scar.
I close my eyes, listening to the fire crackle and wind sing through the trees. I wait for sleep to drag me under. When it doesn’t, I whisper to the night, “Are you really going to keep me safe?”
“I don’t break my word.”
For the first time, I believe him.
But that doesn’t mean I trust him.