28. Kit #2
Closing the sketchbook with a snap, I forced myself back to the abandoned roast and pulled spices from the pantry.
There were better things to think about than Penny’s fondness for me while I mixed together a rub of herbs.
With some effort, I dragged my thoughts to considerations for the handle and sheath of his knife instead.
The possibility of carving some sort of plant felt less personal now that I knew him better.
My mind drifted back to the night after our meeting with Levitt and the subsequent argument with Merrick and the way Penny had touched my chest at the mention of the prospect of his own branding.
In a few days, the phoenix tattoo would no longer be able to disguise the scars beneath when they were burned anew.
But the symbolism was the same: I had risen from my own ashes once, and I would do it again.
Penny had done the same, though a bit more literally than me. He bore the flames and came back stronger for it. We were more alike than I gave us credit for, and so my mind was made up. I only hoped my minimal carving skills would stand up to the subject matter .
I was getting the roast into the belly of the stove when there was a knock on the door.
Wiping my hands on a dishtowel, I fought the feeling of dread at the possibilities of who could be visiting and pulled the door open.
Relief flooded through me when I found Levitt on the front step wearing an easy smile.
“Afternoon, Kit. I tried to catch you at the forge, but you’d gone by the time I got there.”
I stepped back and motioned him inside. “Took off a bit early today. Just getting started on dinner.”
He glanced around as he entered, though there wasn’t much to take in. Penny had picked up a few odds and ends in the market that made the place look more like a home, but it was still sparse.
“Is Penny not here?” he asked.
“He’s taking baking lessons from Rosie, so he’ll be out another few hours at least.”
Levitt turned another smile in my direction. “He seems to be settling in well. Better than you, anyway. He’s actually made friends .”
His tone was teasing, but he wasn’t wrong.
I gestured to the couch, and we settled on opposite sides.
“I’ve never been very comfortable here,” I admitted.
He’d known as much when we were kids, though he’d always assumed it was because of my father.
I let him believe that then and was happy to let that continue.
“I know my father’s gone, but I can’t help but feel his reputation hanging over me. ”
“You’re not your father, Kit, and everyone will figure that out soon enough. You just have to give them the chance to get to know you.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “You know I’ve never been so good at that. I like my solitude too much.”
“You’re hardly solitary now,” he said with a faint smile. “ I scarcely ever see you without Penny in tow. Though, I suppose that might be as much for his benefit as yours, considering Merrick.”
“I’m doing what I can to keep them apart, though I’m pretty sure Merrick is avoiding him, too.”
Levitt adjusted the cuff of his sleeve around the stump of his right wrist. “Speaking of Merrick,” he said, his tone a bit too cagey for comfort, “he mentioned that you’re quite the weaponsmith.”
I had a passing skill in it, but there wasn’t much need for such things in Forstford.
My strengths were in utilitarian items and farming tools.
Though, Merrick had made it a habit to lurk about the forge once Penny was gone in the afternoons.
I spent most of that time working on Penny’s knife, so perhaps that’s where he got the idea.
“I dabble.” I waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve made a few knives.”
Levitt nodded, and his eyes strayed to where my Penny-menacing knife hung on my belt. “I’d like to see your work someday.”
I pulled the knife from its sheath and offered it to him handle-first. “By all means.”
He examined the blade, but it was clear that his thoughts were elsewhere. After several moments of silence, he handed it back.
“I wanted to apologize.” He let the statement hang long enough that I had to prompt him.
“Apologize for what?”
His lips pressed in a line before he met my eyes and spoke again.
“For making you go through the first Oath a second time. I exhausted all options for sparing you having to suffer it again, but it’s beyond my authority.
” A thin smile turned up one corner of his mouth.
“I always thought you were brave for beginning your Oaths so young. I never could have imagined starting them at seventeen.”
“It wasn’t bravery,” I muttered, tucking the knife back into its sheath. “I didn’t have a choice. My father refused to let me wait until twenty.”
His forcing my hand had been the last push I needed to take the risk of running away.
The second Oath didn’t concern me, considering I was well-versed in bringing in bodies, but with the threat of the third looming in the near future, it was safer for me to leave than stay.
I was resigned to suffering the brand, but what little bravery I possessed was saved for sneaking out of Ashpoint while the rest of the town was celebrating the newest crop of initiates, and for trekking across the province to the only safe place I knew.
A gentle touch to my arm brought my mind back to the present. Concern creased Levitt’s face as he rested his hand on my left wrist.
“I promise, I will never ask the kinds of things of you that your father did.” He squeezed my arm. “I’m just glad you’re back where you belong. It’s good to have you home.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that this place never was and never would be home for me.