Page 58 of Hexbound

Verity arched a brow. "And?"

"Nothing." His head collapsed into his hands again.

Nothing, my Aunt Betsy."People make mistakes when they're tired. A mistake in this situation might get both of us killed." She settled on the seat beside him gingerly, tugging her night-robe away from his thigh. "Something's bothering you. And I thought we were to work together. We can hardly do that if one of us is keeping secrets."

"A lot of things are bothering me. To begin with: I can't find the Chalice, and... I'm not sure that I can devote all of my time to the search for it."

"I thought finding the Chalice was all important. Hordes of flesh constructs being dragged out of the ground, London burning, demons gallivanting about. That sort of thing."

"It is." He pushed away from the chair and paced to the small grate.

"Then what else could be so distracting?"

Bishop rested one hand against the mantelpiece, looking into the embers in the grate. His shoulders were stiff.

Frustration burned through her. "You don't want to tell me. It's fine for me to place my trust in you the other day, when you ruined my place in the Hex, and it's fine for you to tell me not to worry, because you're not the type of man who would misuse that trust, but it's not fine for me to expect the same in return?"

"Verity...." His voice roughened.

"It's not as though I have anyone to tell," she pointed out, "and nor am I likely to. I've kept your other secrets."

"It's not that," he said roughly. "I'm just... used to keeping my cards close to my chest."

Her eyes narrowed.Go on, they said.

He gestured at the room in general, his brandy slopping out of the glass. "I'm Sicarii. Everything we do is shrouded in secrecy and I made oaths to that point. I don't even tell my father most of what I learn in those meetings."

Dragging her knees up in front of her chest, Verity rested her chin on top of them. She could take this small concession. Even she understood that sometimes it was best to keep things close, but... trust was something she always found difficult to give. And she'd given it to him. Something inside her ached that she couldn't be found worthy of the same consideration. "Sounds lonely."

"Lonely? No, it's... complicated. It's...."

"You're tired, you're plagued by problems, and you're not thinking clearly," she pointed out. "Sometimes just talking through your problems with another person helps."

Something like consideration twisted his mouth. Then he sighed. "I don't see how you're going to help."

Verity said nothing. Her old life suddenly felt like a lifetime ago, though the wounds were still raw. She looked away.Where do I stand now?

With a sigh, he crossed to pour himself another brandy. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you," she muttered into the silk that covered her knees.

"Fine. Promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone?"

Verity slowly looked up. "You have my word."

"The Chalice needs to be recovered. That's a priority. But... there are a few problems in the Order at the moment."

"Does it have anything to do with your father's resignation?"

He looked at her.

"I'm not stupid," she pointed out. "Agatha and Marie were dancing around the topic, and you get this constipated look on your face whenever it's mentioned. I would almost say you're worried about him."

Sinking into the armchair again, he rested his brandy on the armrest, staring into space. "The Sicarii held a vote—that's the meeting you witnessed. They were deciding whether to assassinate Drake."

Verity sucked in a sharp breath. No wonder he was out of sorts. "Why?"

"Problems with the succession; fear of the future; concern that him staying alive while a new Prime is elected will split the Order in half." He shrugged, his face darkening. "A little bit of everything."