THIRTEEN
Astorm wakes me at midnight, rattling the windowpanes and sending flashes of light skittering across the ceiling.
Between the wind and rain pelting the house, sleep feels impossible.
I pull the quilt to my chin and lie there, willing myself back to blissful unconsciousness, but every roll of thunder drives me further from it.
Eventually, I give up and shove the covers aside.
The fire in the room’s hearth has dwindled to embers, and I grab a crocheted shawl from my stack of new clothes, shivering.
The hallway outside my room is even colder, the old stone floors like ice under the thin soles of my borrowed slippers. I listen for any sign someone else is awake, but there’s nothing except the howling wind.
My fingers trail the wooden banisters as I tiptoe down the stairs, my eyes never leaving the head of a horned wolf mounted above the landing.
Miradores feels like a labyrinth in the dark. Each wrong turn leads to some cold, windowless passage and a dead end or down a narrow staircase that I swear doubles back out of spite. Finally, I find my way to the great room.
The kitchen beyond the swinging door is empty, but there’s a candle stub burning in a lantern, wax puddled around its base.
It’s just enough light to allow me to search for something to eat.
I settle on a heel of bread and a wedge of pale cheese, afraid to upend Lenora’s breakfast plans.
I nibble at them, watching as lightning splits the sky and casts monstrous shadows in the overgrown garden.
Another flash illuminates the grounds, and for a split second, I see two figures.
My heart jumps into my throat, and I back away, nearly dropping the last bit of cheese.
I sink into a shadowy nook, eyes never leaving the window as I wait for another lightning strike.
I’m not sure I want to know who—or what—is out there.
But when the next one comes, the garden is empty.
Now I’m seeing things. Because this week couldn’t get any better.
The back door creaks open.
“… not as simple as you think,” Bishop says, shaking rain from his hair.
Taliesin follows him inside. “If she’s the harbinger, it’s exactly that simple.”
I push myself flatter against the wall. I could show myself. It’s not like eating cheese at midnight is a crime. But they’re talking about me, so I stay where I am to hear more.
Do these people have nothing better to talk about than me?
They pause long enough that I’m sure they’ve heard me. My heart hammers against my ribs until I hear the wet squelch of muddy boots being pulled off.
“I hate to say it, but if what’s written is—” Taliesin continues.
“Don’t finish that thought.” Bishop’s voice is quieter now, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear, not even the walls.
But Taliesin sighs. “You’re the one who dragged her here. Lied for her.”
“I didn’t lie,” Bishop says. “I kept her alive.”
“Was that the wisest course of action? Because now she’s here.”
“That’s my problem.”
Something heavy lands on the prep table with a dull thud, followed by the scraping of chair legs on stone.
Fantastic. They’re getting comfortable. How many times can I get stuck in a dark corner hiding from Bishop Marius?
“Do you want a bandage for that?” Taliesin asks.
“It’s fine.”
It’s the middle of the night, and one of them is bleeding—why am I not surprised?
“That’s what you always say.” Taliesin sounds close to shaking him. “If you would just carry your astrolabe—”
“I hate those things.” He’s grumpier than usual.
Taliesin sighs like he’s lost this argument too many times to bother again. “So, what are you going to do with your guest?”
“I don’t know yet,” Bishop admits.
“You brought her all the way here, and you still have no idea?”
Bishop doesn’t answer, and silence stretches between them, punctuated by the rattling wind.
“She’s dangerous,” Taliesin says, softer than I’ve ever heard him. “If she really is—”
If she really is. Even Taliesin won’t finish the thought. Like just saying the name Ravenell might wake the terrible powers still dormant inside me.
“If she is, then the only ones in danger are the people trying to kill her.”
Taliesin snorts. “You actually believe that?”
“I don’t have a choice,” Bishop says. “Not until I know more.”
A chill settles over me, as brittle as the fear in my veins. I need to know what they’re talking about.
Finally, Taliesin clears his throat. “And if she tries to escape?”
“She won’t,” Bishops says. “She hates the postern, and she’d never survive the mountains.”
“Desperation makes you do reckless shit,” Taliesin warns him. “Now that she’s able to leave her room, I’ll keep an eye on her.”
I bristle at this, but I don’t dare to move. As if I’ve done something worthy of attention. As if I committed a crime instead of the Stars marking me.
“She seems very interested in heart collectors,” he continues.
“Isn’t everyone?” Bishop sounds tired. I hold my breath, hoping they’ll say more, hoping he’ll admit the monsters aren’t real. “Come on. I want to show you something I read about scions.”
My eyebrows shoot up. What the hell is a scion? And why does it warrant study in the middle of the night?
“Now?” Taliesin groans. “It’s nearly one.”
“I had no idea it was past your bedtime.” A chair pushes back. “Come on. It’s in the library. I want your opinion. It might be what’s messing with the magic in Florentia.”
“Vessica is the smart one,” Taliesin says.
“So smart that she’s in bed. I just want a …” Bishop’s voice fades into the corridor. I resist the urge to follow, too haunted by what I just heard. I take the narrow staircase near the rear entrance instead, cringing every time it creaks.
Bishop doesn’t know what to do with me.
And they both think I’m dangerous.
I am not sitting around waiting for Bishop to murder me.
A breakfast tray is at my door, and I devour most of it while I change into one of the old uniforms Lenora left, ignoring the dresses she also found.
Mostly because the uniform includes a high-lacing collar that covers where the very top of my mark’s wings peek.
The shirt is embroidered with intersecting lines in a delicate silver thread, so fine that the patterns it creates catch the light one moment and disappear the next.
Likely some type of protection magic woven into the garment itself.
Paired with the thick military-issue pants and boots, it’s clothing fit to explore the estate, both inside and out.
Bishop will have been up with the sun. That’s one thing soldiers and farmers have in common. My family will have been dressed and off to work hours ago.
Ignoring a twinge of guilt, I arm myself with the letters I wrote them last night when getting back to sleep proved impossible. I creep into the hall. If anyone catches me snooping in the wrong place, I’ll claim I’m looking for a spot to post them.
As soon as I step out of the bedroom, I pause to listen for nearby activity. But the house is quiet save for the distant chime of the astronomical clock that seems to give up halfway through its count of the hour.
My first stop: the off-limits western wing. Places are only forbidden if there’s something worth hiding inside them.
It’s situated on the opposite side of the estate from the room I’ve been given, and the security isn’t subtle.
The double doors are barred with a black iron lock.
There’s no keyhole, only faint nochtimetric lines like the ones I tried to thwart on Bishop’s trunk in the palace.
I jiggle the handle anyway, just in case luck is on my side.
It isn’t.
Leaning in, I press my ear against the smooth wood.
Why bother telling me the wing is off-limits if Bishop has it locked up like a dungeon?
I could try to guess the pattern—because that worked so well with his trunk—but I don’t want to get caught before I know what I’m looking for.
Time for plan B.
Thanks to my late-night escapade, I know something in the library might have answers. Or just raise more questions. But I’ll take either at this point.
Lenora warned me not to visit the room after dark. Luckily, the sun is shining. But as I reach the stairs, I see its doors closing behind someone. It has to be Bishop.
Apprehension hits me as I approach them. Like nearly every surface in this place, a horned wolf is carved into each, both snarling like they know exactly why I’m here. I swallow, wishing I’d pocketed a pastry to nibble on for my nerves.
Maybe Bishop collects forbidden books. Maybe he’s stolen half the ones inside. Even if I don’t find answers, I might gain leverage to use against him. If someone is in there, I’ll make up an excuse, but my fingers tremble as I reach for the knob.
The sound of approaching footsteps sends me flying back a few steps.
“What are you up to?” Bishop asks.
Taliesin is by his side.
If they’re here, who just went inside the library?
“Lost,” I lie.
Bishop tilts his head, studying me, but Taliesin grins and gestures to my outfit.
“I like you in uniform,” he says. “You look like you could punch a man in the throat and no one would even question it.”
Tendrils of suspicion twist through me. I don’t trust that smile. Not anymore. But it’s not like I can call them out without admitting I overheard them in the kitchen. I glance at Bishop, then pin a bland expression on my face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Taliesin leans closer to him but doesn’t bother to lower his voice. “I think she wants to punch you.” He straightens up. “All I ask is that I’m there to witness it when you do.”
I force a laugh. He can keep charming me, but we’ll never be friends after last night.
“Taliesin is going to give you the tour,” Bishop tells me, starting down the corridor.
“What?” I follow him, shaking my head. “I don’t need a—”
“I don’t mind,” Taliesin says. “I’m more than available.”
As if that’s my concern.
Bishop looks at him, the edge of a smile ghosting his lips. “Can you try to have better manners than last time?”
“Which time was that?” Taliesin asks. “The last time you asked me to show someone around, or when I got punched in the throat last?”
“Why can’t you show me around?” I ask Bishop, not wanting to be left in the care of his two-faced friend. I must be fucked if I prefer Bishop’s grumpy ass.
“I have a meeting in Florentia.”
“But you just got back.” Panic spikes my blood.
“It’s part of the job,” he reminds me. “Don’t worry. Taliesin will take care of you.”
I bet he will.
“And I only bite when bitten first,” Taliesin promises as we reach the great room.
Bishop grimaces. “I should have asked Vessica.”
My gaze darts in the direction of the library. Maybe she’s who I saw going inside. “We could find her.”
“She’s already in Florentia.” Bishop studies me. “Lenora went shopping in the village, but if you’d rather stay here alone …”
No one else is here, so who went into the starsdamned library? Something icy chases my lingering panic.
“No.” Not if there are fucking ghosts in Miradores. That’s the last thing I can handle today. “Maybe I should come with you.”
I’m not looking for answers in a haunted library.
“You can’t. I’m meeting with Patron Leontia.” He pauses and lowers his voice. “Is something wrong?”
I could tell him what I saw. Seven hells, I probably should. But something holds me back. Probably my complete lack of trust in him. “I’m fine.”
He nods, but suspicion clouds his eyes. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Try to stay out of trouble.”
There’s a weariness in his voice that suggests how unlikely it is that I’ll listen to that command.
He’s right. Trouble might be the only way out of here.
Bishop pauses to give Taliesin a few more instructions before he crosses to the secret postern and activates it.
“Off with you,” Taliesin says when Bishop hesitates on its threshold. “I’ll look after her.”
It sounds even less convincing coming from him.
Bishop steps through, leaving the two of us to stare at each other.
“I’m sorry you have to put up with me,” I say through clenched teeth.
He shrugs. “Could be worse. You’re better company than Vessica, and you don’t try to stab me when my back is turned.”
“She stabs you in the back?” I can’t hide my surprise. Vessica seems so direct, unlike the man standing next to me.
“Only literally. She calls it a training exercise. Just sneaks up behind me and—” He mimes a stabbing motion and shakes his head before offering me his arm. “I think she just likes the idea of seeing me bleed.”
That makes two of us. “And you aren’t afraid of me?”
“Why?” He escorts me into the hallway. “Because of the Ravenell mark you’re hiding under that shirt?”
Yep, I definitely want to see him bleed.
I don’t buy the act. Not after last night. But I know what he’s up to, and knowledge is a weapon.
Time to use it against him.