Page 60 of Hexbound

Dragging a blanket over her, he sat down beside her, pressing his hand against his head. So bloody tired. But the map needed work, and he had too many things on his mind. Still, it was pleasant to sit here beside her. Even asleep, somehow she made him feel not so alone.

Bishop blinked, and realized that his head had nodded.

How many nights had passed since he'd slept properly?

Two... three... four?

He couldn't... remember.

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Chapter 14

"TO WHAT DOwe owe this pleasure?"

Lady Rathbourne was refreshingly direct, pouring both him and Verity a cup of tea as they sat in her and her husband's home.

"A concern we both share," Bishop told her.

"Oh?" Ianthe Devereaux arched one delicate black brow as she dunked lemon in all four cups of tea. "Last time we met, you wanted nothing to do with my husband. Or myself." That last was added with a discreet glance to his left to where Verity sat, but he knew what she meant.

My husband. It might as well have meant "your brother." Bishop was still coming to terms with the shock of discovering that he and Lord Rathbourne shared the same father. Both of them were bastards, but Rathbourne had only recently discovered he was no true Rathbourne, after all.

"I have nothing against Lucien," he argued mildly. "But Drake saw us kept separate for a reason. Prophecy dictates trouble should we cross paths."

"I believe in regards to the prophecy there's also an old saying, something about spilled milk."

How careful they were being. "You may speak plainly in front of Miss Hawkins. She's aware of a great deal of the subtler nuances of the Order."

"Now who's speaking obliquely?" Ianthe challenged, taking her cup and sitting back in her seat with those witchy eyes locked on him.

"Fine." Damn her. "Verity is helping me recover the Chalice. She knows Lucien and I are related, and she knows about the prophecy, and the demon and Morgana."

"In short, everything," Ianthe replied.

Verity sipped her tea, then her face brightened. "Oh, this is lovely."

Ianthe's face warmed. "A special brew I purchase, all the way from India."

As if he couldn't taste the familiar leaves, a ghost of memory that momentarily took him back to darker times. "Lady Rathbourne, is he coming or not?"

Both women looked at him and he cursed his blunt manners, but time was of the essence and he didn't particularly want to stir those memories.

"See for yourself." Ianthe tilted her head behind him.

Lord Rathbourne was strolling up to the French doors from the outside, his breath steaming in the cold morning air and his hand curled around a little girl's hand as she pointed birds out to him excitedly. Lady Rathbourne had sent a servant for him, but it was clear from the way his eyes locked on Bishop's through the glass that he knew exactly who was sitting in his parlor.

After all, the second Bishop had set foot in the house, he'd felt the quiver of prophetic warning shiver down his spine as he and Lord Rathbourne came in close proximity. The first time they'd walked into the same room, the sensation had nearly knocked him off his feet.

"Bishop," Rathbourne greeted, dusting his feet off on the rug. Curious eyes flickered to Verity, but the little girl stole Bishop's attention as she peered at them from around her father's leg.

Not that Rathbourne was officially the girl's father—not on her birth certificate anyway—but anyone with eyes could see that she bore his resemblance, and Bishop could feel the affinity in both their auras. He'd known Ianthe for years, but clearly she'd been keeping secrets.

Which meant he had a niece. He didn't quite know what to think of that.

"Rathbourne," he replied solemnly, gesturing to Verity. "This is Miss Hawkins, who is assisting me with the Chalice's recovery."

Rathbourne perused them curiously. "Louisa, this is Mr. Bishop, and his friend. Say how do you do."