37. Penny #2
We hung back, leaning on each other as I found my home in Kit’s arms. Most of our resistance members lingered, too, but the other residents filed past. They crossed the square in an uneven line, then split off in family groups, winding gradually out of sight toward their homes.
It was as somber and silent as a funeral march.
We had succeeded in our mission to stop the Bone Men, but our win had not come without a price.
“I saw Father,” I murmured after several long moments had passed.
Kit made a surprised sound, and I smiled ruefully against his shoulder.
“We saved him after all.”
“And the rest of the world with him,” Kit replied.
The gentle, repetitive pass of his hand over my back lulled me into quiet until the sounds of distant shouting shattered the fragile peace.
Voices boomed and clamored, and Kit went instantly rigid. He snagged my hand and led me and our group toward the commotion near the Ossuary.
My head swiveled around, taking in the chaotic scene playing out in the streets around the square. Men on horseback like the ones who had descended on Forstford were closing in from the side streets, corralling the citizens back into the square and into an uneasy cluster.
Kit and I had barely stopped moving before I spotted the ward commander who’d held me gagged and bound in Forstford’s tavern. So, these were the same militia soldiers as before. They’d come after all, but they’d come too late. Just like I warned them they would.
The commander noticed me half a second later and steered her mount toward us.
I turned my body to form a barrier between her and Kit, taking a defensive posture he protested by clapping his hand on my shoulder and pulling me back until my spine was flush against his chest. The resistance members closed ranks around us, flanking us on either side.
The horse and commander skidded to a stop on the cobbles, towering over us all.
“What’s going on here?” she barked. “I demand to speak to the person in charge.”
Heads swiveled our way, not only from the resistance members, but from our neighbors gathered behind the commander, too. When enough pairs of wide eyes fixed on Kit, she gave him her attention as well.
“You?” she asked.
“Both of us now, I suppose,” he murmured.
The commander’s brow pinched as she glanced at me. Clearly, my speedy departure from Forstford had been neither forgotten, nor forgiven.
But they came. Led here by…
I scanned the square until I spotted Rosie across the way, caught between her father and mother in a crushing embrace.
On horseback a few dozen feet beyond the commander, Ben was closing fast. He drew his mount up alongside us and swung down in a motion that seemed far too graceful for his large frame.
Kit’s body, which had been like stone against mine, loosened at the butcher’s proximity.
The older man made to approach, but the commander stopped him with her outstretched sword.
While Kit relaxed, Ben looked at us in horror. His shock reminded me of the state of our clothes and, well, everything else.
Of course, the commander noticed as well, and she regarded us with a sense of guarded skepticism as she said, “We have… questions.”
Kit nodded, then pulled away enough to gesture to the Ossuary doors.
“Inside?”
The commander glanced at Ben, then us, before dismounting. Another soldier came up to take the reins of her horse as she motioned for Kit and I to lead the way into the building.
I didn’t want to go near the caverns again, and I worried for a moment Kit would take her there.
Showing was easier than explaining, but perhaps more confusing.
Not to mention directing the militia to a veritable mass grave was a terrible idea.
Considering the blood covering us from shoulders to shins, it was a miracle we hadn’t been arrested on sight.
Ben followed, and a distant shout of “Wait!” announced Rosie joining our small procession. She didn’t have to chase for long because Kit stopped at the long table in the atrium and encouraged the commander to take a seat at one end.
Rosie drew up short at the edge of our group, and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
“Gods, what’s happened to you?”
My laugh first felt awkward, then like a much-needed relief, though everyone in the room was staring at me in bewilderment before I managed to reply.
“Gods.”
I hoped Kit would laugh, too, but he looked terribly serious as he faced the commander and said in a low voice, “Welcome to Ashpoint. Unfortunately, you’re a bit late.”
There was an edge to his tone and the stiffness returned to his body as he hauled me to his side.
Ben and Rosie crowded in as well, scanning over us and searching for the source of all the blood.
“Late for what, exactly?” the commander asked.
In the pause, I wondered if Kit thought of the bitterness that had plagued him since he’d first been brought here as a child.
The damage that had been done to him and countless others.
I waited for him to cast blame, to accuse or even rage at the militia’s lack of involvement until the last possible moment.
Their inability to prevent this, and instead leaving it in the hands of a farmer and a blacksmith.
Instead, he explained slowly and patiently, from the very start.
Some of it I had told her myself when trying to garner my freedom in Forstford. Having Kit corroborate my story gave me a sense of vindication, as did the commander’s nods as she took the information on board.
When he got to the part about the Vessel, I was held rapt. I’d missed some of the events while I was… away… and it made me ache to see how clearly it pained Kit to discuss what Merrick had done.
I leaned into him, and his fingers roamed across my middle. I cupped my hand over his, then moved it higher. Away from the scars and toward where my heart was beating, steady and strong.
“You understand this all sounds rather incredible,” the commander said slowly. “I would have more doubt, but we witnessed a bit of what you claim when we rode up. There were guards at the gate, and as we approached they simply… dropped dead.”
Rosie hadn’t stopped staring at me, and she looked so fretful I had to offer her some reassurance.
“It’s okay,” I mouthed and added a crooked little smile.
“I’ll need to see the… evidence,” the commander said, but the request didn’t seem to be born of doubt. Her face had paled through Kit’s retelling, as had Ben’s.
She cleared her throat. “And after that…”
She glanced toward the Ossuary doors, ajar at the end of the hall and showing a sliver of the view outside. The townspeople were still gathered and joined by militia troops who were no doubt peppering them with questions of their own.
“What are your plans for Ashpoint?” she asked.
Kit hesitated, then gave me a nudge.
“We’d like to see Ashpoint incorporated,” I replied, readier than I should have been to answer the summons. “Recognized and made into a home for those who choose to remain here. A lot of them don’t have anywhere else to go.”
The commander pondered for a moment, then shifted in her seat and looked again toward the Ossuary doors.
“And what about the two of you?” She turned her gaze on us. “What’s your intention for yourselves?”
I pulled away from Kit and caught his eyes.
They were weary and ringed with shadows, but absolutely brimming with the devotion that had never faded.
He’d looked at me with that same love while the world was going dark.
The adoration he’d shown that night in Stagcross when he’d tied the cord around my wrist.
I had plenty of intentions, and all of them involved him. Us. Sharing a life somewhere sunny.