Page 136 of Harbinger

“No,” Hadrian says, watching as the oscen lands in its newly healed tree. “We’re supposed to prepare.”

TWENTY-FIVE

My body is mending, even if my grief is not.

The thin skin where I was burned itches, but the throbbing has softened into something manageable.

And I decide I don’t give a fuck if that’s good enough for Bishop.

I’m healed.

I dig out one of the old uniforms Lenora brought me when I first arrived. It’s tailored too fine for a conscript, its heavy fabric meant for colder months but too worn to belong to anyone alive. It smells faintly of cedar, as if it’s been shoved in a trunk no one’s opened for years. But it fits me better than it should.

I’d consider it a sign if I still thought the Stars were looking out for me.

I tie my hair back so tightly it makes my scalp sting and stare at the stranger in the mirror. Her eyes are too hollow. Her mouth too tight. But she’s standing.

That has to count for something.

The house is eerily quiet in that way it gets when the day’s yet to begin. But the smell of baking bread threads through the halls, pulling me forward.

Of course the kitchen is already awake.

And it’s not empty. Watery light creeps through the windows, turning the edges of the room pale gold. Lenora stands at the counter, forearms dusted with flour, coaxing dough into shape. Bishop leans against the table with a cup of coffee. He’s in uniform, coat buttoned high on his neck like he paused on the way out. Meanwhile, Taliesin’s feet are propped on the table, and he looks almost ready to doze off.

All three of them turn when I breach the doorway. I don’t remember the last time I shared a meal with them. I haven’t even spoken to anyone not passing through the garden or the library.

For a heartbeat, we’re all silent, as if none of us can remember what to say to each other.

“You’re up,” Lenora says carefully. Probably afraid I’ll bolt if she startles me.

“I’m up.” It feels like admitting I belong among the living again.

Lenora wipes her hands on her apron and reaches automatically for a plate. “Sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Setting the kitchen on fire might have less effect.

One of Taliesin’s boots drops off the table with a thump like I’ve woken him. Lenora pauses to glance at Bishop, whose eyes narrow slightly, the coffee halfway to his mouth.

Lenora puts the plate back down with a sigh before pinning a cheerful smile on her face. “I suppose you’re heading into the garden early.”

Here we go.

“Not today.”

“Then why are you up?” Bishop asks with his usual restraint. Although the edge beneath the question suggests he dislikes the answer already.

“I need coffee,” I say, striding over to pour a cup. The heat from the ovens washes over my face, but it doesn’t reach the place inside me that’s frozen solid.

“Me too,” Taliesin mumbles, stretching his hands like a beggar.

I pass him mine and get another. If they’re worried about my appetite, I’m sure they’ll have an opinion on what I’ve really come down to do. Of course, there’s a barrier to my plan … and that barrier is still glowering at me.

Clutching the mug, I take a deep breath. Now or never.

“I’m going to the Bellatorum,” I announce, “to enlist.”