Page 57 of Harbinger

She steers me to a chair near the hearth, grabbing a thick woolen blanket on the way. Wrapping it around my shoulders, she tucks it under my chin as if I’m a child. I let her fuss, too tired to resist.

Bishop leans against the mantel, watching the scene with a blank expression.

She whirls and points at him. “Don’t just stand there like a statue. Wash your hands and come help me fetch some food.”

He makes a faint sound—almost a groan—then pushes away from the fireplace and disappears through a side door.

Lenora’s eyes crinkle as she smiles at me. “He knows better. Sometimes he just needs a swift kick to the … well, you know. What’s your name, dear?”

I hesitate. “Arden,” I say. “Arden Icaros.”

The name hangs in the air like a lie, but Lenora only squints like she’s trying to get a better look at me. “An Icaros, huh? He’s not brought an Icaros home before. Well, welcome to Miradores. The only thing you need to worry about in this house is eating too much.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” My stomach is already grumbling at the promise of food.

She gives my arm an approving squeeze before heading for the kitchen, singing under her breath. “Black wing, black wing, don’t beat so fast …”

The tune is familiar, like something my mother used to hum, and an ache grows in my chest.

“The night is long, the die is cast …”

Maybe all caregivers’ songs sound the same when they’re putting the world back in order.

I settle into the chair, lulled toward sleep by the soothing song. But when Bishop returns carrying a large tray, he’s not alone.

TWELVE

So much for a moment of peace. Bishop’s knights from Wintour are already here. Clearly, they used more efficient means of travel, and I haven’t even caught my breath. I start to drop the blanket Lenora wrapped around me but think better of it. They weren’t huddled in the woods freezing their asses off an hour ago.

Bishop deposits the tray on the table, and I shuffle over, still wrapped in the blanket, to study the small feast Lenora scrounged up: several cheeses, some fruit, a bowl of olives, and a basket of split-top rolls with a plate of freshly churned butter beside them. Given my current level of anxiety, my first impulse is to dive into the rolls and eat until my stomach explodes. I drop into a chair and reach for the bread.

Lenora reappears with two mugs of steaming coffee. She sets one in front of me. “Would you like cream?”

But I’m already gulping it down, ignoring how it scorches my throat. Lenora glances at Bishop, but he just shrugs. So much for manners. One day in the wild, and I’m acting like an animal.

“Can I get some?” Taliesin asks her, still watching me.

“Get it yourself,” Vessica says and tosses her long braids over her shoulder.

But Lenora waves a hand. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

I put down my cup and glance around, realizing the estate is awfully quiet. “No other staff?”

Bishop shrugs. “Fewer people, fewer problems. I don’t need coddling.”

“Don’t listen to him. He could use some coddling,” Taliesin says, popping an olive into his mouth and talking around the pit. “He’s getting grumpy in his solitude.”

“And yet, the more company you keep, the more trouble you get in.” Bishop swipes the bowl of olives from him.

Vessica watches them with wary eyes, like she’s tracking two wolves circling a fresh kill. But Taliesin grins before spitting the olive pit with remarkable accuracy into a little silver dish by his elbow. “We haven’t been properly introduced yet.”

Like I’d forget someone who gleefully lured assassins away on my behalf. “Taliesin, right?”

“You remember.” His smile widens. “But everyone calls me Sin.”

Vessica shakes her head. “No one calls him Sin,” she says to me before turning on him. “Stop trying to make that happen.”

“I’m not a quitter.” Taliesin winks at me.