Page 68 of Harbinger

I accept it but wait for him to take a bite first.

“It’s not poisoned,” he says, ripping into it with his teeth. “I’d never waste good bread on an assassination attempt.”

That makes two of us. We really might get along if it wasn’t impossible to trust each other. But I try it. He’s right. It’s perfect—soft and warm and sweet. I don’t stop him when he charms the kitchen into giving us each another one.

We visit a few classrooms next, each more impressive than the last. Walls are lined with maps and diagrams. Shelves sag under the weight of books.

“Everyone takes classes?” I ask, peeking into a room of young adults frantically jotting down notes as a man in uniform lectures from a pulpit.

Taliesin nods. “Math, reading, how not to blow yourself up the first time you’re trusted with Marius magic,” he whispers. “The younger you arrive, the more education you receive, but everyone is expected to be literate before they join the ranks.”

In the next classroom, a girl is reading aloud to a cluster of younger kids. Her voice is soft but clear, and every pair of eyes is glued to her.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Taliesin says when he catches me staring. “We can’t ask them to fight without making sure they know what they’re fighting for.”

“That’s probably easier to do when there hasn’t been a war in five hundred years,” I point out.

A shadow moves over him. “There are plenty of dangers facing Antares, even without war.” He pauses, his eyes darting back to the room full of children. “But they’ll be ready when war comes.”

I hear the resignation in his voice, as though war is inevitable. I wonder if he felt this way a month ago. A year ago. Or if my presence is responsible for the haunted look in his eyes. I push the thought away. Once the king’s assassin is caught, once people know the truth, this talk of war will die down. It has to.

I change the subject back to Taliesin’s favorite topic: himself. “I thought you fought because you liked it.”

“I do.” He winks. “But between us, I hate the idea of them fighting.”

Part of me wants to believe him. Part of me longs to. But belief leads to trust, and trust is the last thing I can give anyone who wears the symbol of Order Marius.

The last stop is the dormitory for senior conscripts—the ones who will soon be given a rank. It’s quieter here, as if to prove the years of training and discipline actually work. A few people pause to salute Taliesin before hurrying off, eyeing me over their shoulders with curiosity. This might be a tour, but I get the distinct impression that in this building, I’m the one on display.

Taliesin takes me to another common room, where a group of conscripts is playing a frantic game, tossing cards face down and grabbing more off a stack. All while shouting at one another. Silver crowns are scattered in the center of the table. We linger in the doorway and watch the chaos.

“People are always playing Liar’s Hand,” he says.

“My parents used to play with friends, but I never learned,” I admit, feeling a slight pang.

Someone slaps the table, laughing. “Call it. Liar’s Hand or not?”

This sets off a passionate debate.

“You don’t win by having the best cards,” Taliesin whispers as they argue. “You win by convincing everyone else that you do.”

He motions for me to follow him inside. But as soon as we step into the room, the conversation dies.

A tall woman about my age, brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, looks me over, then scowls. “Who is this?”

“A friend,” Taliesin says without missing a beat. Maybe he should be playing their game.

A bearded conscript holds up his fanned cards. “Care to join us?”

“You can’t afford to play me.” Taliesin smiles, teeth flashing.

“Not if you won’t give me a chance to win my money back.” The conscript glances over at me. “What about you?”

“I didn’t bring any money.” And the last thing I need is to risk making any actual friends here.

“Taliesin will spot you,” the one with the ponytail says. She gives him a look that suggests she knows him well enough to expect this.

Taliesin pales slightly, but he shakes his head. “Sorry, we can’t stay.” He grabs my arm and tugs me away.