FOURTEEN
Taliesin walks with a speed that suggests he knows exactly where he’s going.
Since we’re heading toward the front door, it’s information I’d prefer he share.
“I thought you were taking me on a tour.” I start to slow down, but he continues, dragging me along. “Or are you just going to flirt with me until Bishop gets back?”
“I don’t know. Is it working?” he asks. “Come on. We’re going on a field trip.”
“Where?” But I plant my feet as he reaches for the handle.
“I promised the grand tour.” His smile widens as he opens the door. “You’ve had a couple of hours to snoop around here. I figured I’d show you the rest of your new home.”
Alarm bells go off in my head. The way he says home sounds more like prison, but that’s not what makes me sputter.
“Snoop?” Maybe I should have been more careful when I tried to get into the western wing earlier. Did Bishop see me? Is that why he pawned me off on the knight? I square my shoulders and hope my voice doesn’t tremble. “I have barely—”
“Relax,” he cuts me off. “It’s the first thing any self-respecting person would do in your shoes. Let me guess, you didn’t find much?”
I cross my arms and glare at him.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He tilts his head toward the door he’s still holding open. “I thought you might want to see the Bellatorum and some of the grounds.”
“So I can snoop around?” I bite back.
“Exactly.” Taliesin winks at me. “It will make your inevitable escape attempt go more smoothly.”
My mouth falls open. “Why would I try to escape?”
“Well, let’s see. Curiosity. Recklessness. Boredom.” He counts each reason off on his fingers. “I already mentioned self-respect. And, of course, there’s always the simple, well-intentioned, but ultimately doomed sense of self-preservation.”
Taliesin thinks he has me all figured out based on whatever Bishop’s told him. Fine. Maybe we should get to know each other.
I walk through the door, refusing to look at him. “And where would I go?”
“That is the question, isn’t it?” He follows me outside. This time, he doesn’t offer me his arm. “It’s only a short walk.” He sniffs the air. “But it’s probably going to rain. We could take the postern by the gate.”
Despite the clouds, the sun is shining. “No postern,” I say quickly, my stomach lurching just at the thought of it. I’d much rather get caught in a downpour.
Taliesin nods. “Might as well get a lay of the land while you figure things out.”
Maybe he doesn’t want to kill me. Maybe he wants me to escape.
Or Bishop does.
Either way, they’re right about one thing—I need to figure out what I’m going to do next. I can’t just hide in Bishop’s home forever.
I scratch at the mark on my chest but change the subject to something safer. For now. “Does it rain here often?”
“We pick up most of the storms off the sea. Rain can’t seem to make it over the mountains, so it all gets dumped on us. Some sun in summer and fall, but once winter hits …”
“Vennaro must be mostly mud, then.” I know from experience that while rain is a blessing, too much of it can be a curse.
“And fog. The mist gets so thick some days, you could get turned around just walking into the garden.” He glances at me, eyes twinkling. “But I expect you’ll find your way.”
It’s definitely like he wants me to run.
“Careful,” Taliesin advises as we start toward the gates of the estate. Wild grass shoots through cracks in the path, and the dead leaves scattered across the broken stone crunch under our feet. “Some of these need replacing.”
Quite a few, actually. Nearly half are cracked past the point of repair, and several are so loose that I nearly trip. But when I try to avoid them, my boots sink into the muddy spaces between stones.
The grounds between the house and the gated entrance are in the same shape as the garden.
Towering evergreens stand sentry along the drive.
Some are so overgrown that their branches droop from the weight of their own ambitions.
Others show signs of disease, their brittle, brown needles clinging to scraggly branches or dumped at the base of their trunks.
Brambles have sprung up between them, edging so close to the walkway that they tear at my sleeves as we pass.
My family’s estate in Damalis is just barely in worse shape. Although Lenora is doing a better job keeping up the actual house than we have.
“There’s really no one to tend the grounds?”
“Are you volunteering?” Taliesin moves a low-hanging branch out of our path.
“Me and what army?” I shake my head. This is too much work for a single person. “Or can I borrow yours?”
“Bishop has never really cared about the grounds.” He shrugs, stepping over a giant puddle. “His father did, but now that he’s gone, it’s not a priority.”
I consider asking him more about Bishop’s family but stop myself. People die. It’s an unfortunate fact of life, and one I know all too well. But, unlike my family, Order Marius should have money and means.
Beyond the gardens, set high on a rocky rise, a narrow tower cuts into the fog, its domed crown catching the light like a watchful eye.
“That tower,” I say, nodding toward it. “Is that the Bellatorum?”
Taliesin snorts. “That’s the astrolatory. It’s a couple of miles’ hike up from the Bellatorum.”
“That seems a bit hard to reach.” The remote location would be more fitting for a military fortress. “How does anyone visit it?”
“No one really bothers with rituals or watching for omens here.” There’s a note of judgment in his voice. “Bishop thinks any real threat will come from the sea, not the Stars.”
Most people build their lives around the Stars. Bishop tries to ignore them. I swear the mark on my chest twinges like it’s itching to prove him wrong.
I press a hand over it to smother that feeling. It’s nothing more than a phantom ache, a hit of fear followed by a sickening rush of relief.
When we reach the wooden bridge that connects the estate’s spit of land with the main territory, I’m relieved to see it’s well-maintained given the choppy water below.
White-capped waves roll and crest before crashing into the rocky shoreline, and gusts of wind knock into us as we cross.
But on the other side, even the solid ground beneath my feet feels shaky.
Taliesin tells me stories as we walk, each slightly more improbable than the last.
“I was considering settling down until she tried to poison me,” he says after filling me in on his most recent failed love affair.
“Did you deserve it?” I ask.
“Oh, absolutely.” He grins. “But she was still worth it. Best three weeks of my life.”
“It seems like a lot of people want to hurt you.”
His smile only widens. “Bishop says I bring out the violence in people.”
For once, I agree with Bishop.
We only walk a few minutes on the mainland before we reach a split in the road, marked by a column carved with directions.
Unfortunately, the directions are written in the ancient tongue.
Taliesin continues toward the right-hand path, which slopes at such a steep angle I wonder how close we are to the mountains.
I lag behind him a few steps, staring in the other direction.
“That way takes you to Wolf’s Keep,” he says, noticing my interest.
I recall Lenora mentioning it in passing. “The village, right?”
He nods. “Probably your best chance at finding a way out of here.”
“I’m beginning to think that you want me to escape.”
“Honestly? I’ll be a tad disappointed if you don’t try.”
Probably because it’s his best excuse to off me. Still, I can’t stop myself from asking, “Why?”
“You let the oscen go.” His voice drops so low that it’s almost lost in the wind. “No one does that.”
No one except the girl Bishop dragged halfway across Antares and dumped in his lap.
“That’s what my brother said, too,” I grumble, and Taliesin laughs. But thinking of Broderic—even in passing—makes my chest tighten. “If I’d known how much trouble it would cause …”
“You wouldn’t have released it?”
For a second, I feel the weight of the dagger in my hand. My fingers close reflexively but find only air. There is no knife. No bird. No second chance. I shrug. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Taliesin pauses, his forehead wrinkling. “Yes, it does. Would you let it go again?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I hadn’t expected today to include exercises in personal morality.
Especially considering my companion. But I mull over the question as we walk.
I could have made it quick. Painless. I can only imagine how the other initiates botched their sacrifices.
And maybe if I had killed the oscen, I wouldn’t be here now, having this pointless conversation.
Maybe the symbol of Order Icaros would be seared into my skin somewhere far less conspicuous than the mark I bear now.
Maybe King Ophelian would even be alive.
The trouble is that dwelling on my choices won’t change anything.
And I know with certainty that my hands would have never felt clean again. I would have spent my life like that initiate from Leontia, trying to wipe off blood no one else could see.
“Yes,” I answer finally.
Taliesin doesn’t press the issue, but something that looks suspiciously like approval glints in his eyes.
We continue in silence, each lost in our own thoughts, but as we reach the point where the road crests, the Bellatorum comes into view.
There is no fortified wall. No heads on iron spikes. It’s actually … elegant.
Somehow, the Bellatorum is larger than the royal palace in Wintour. It sprawls across the foothills of the Stygia Mountains in a curious mix of old and new, half built from the ruins of something that feels ancient.
The gates are open and unguarded apart from a pair of enormous stone wolves, mottled by moss and time. A black bird perches on one of their horns, wings tucked tightly against its body. Its beady black eyes don’t blink as we approach.
Taliesin doesn’t seem to notice, but I look down as we pass through the gates. It can’t be the same bird. I’m just seeing signs where there are none. Another victim of Antares’s deeply rooted superstition.