Chapter 4
Penny
The rest of the afternoon into evening was pleasant.
I got the house cleaned, and Kit returned home just as I was getting a pan of chicken and vegetables simmering on the stove.
When he disappeared for his nightly bath, I had half a mind to pile in on top of him, clothes and all.
But Thoma was due any moment, so I loitered in the kitchen dragging a string across the floor for Ember and Nutmeg to chase.
The pause in activity gave me time to think, and to reconsider the news of the day.
Anders’s announcement, like his presence, had come as an annoyance, but now, it gnawed at me.
It wasn't so much Anders himself as the idea of Merrick scheming from his office high in the Ossuary, tirelessly conjuring new ways to make my life in Ashpoint more difficult.
It seemed, and Merrick had yet to say anything to the contrary, that my greatest slight against my half-brother was being born. My existence vexed him. For years, I tried to please him or make amends for my life being such an affront to his. Now, I was wiser, and the feeling of loathing was mutual.
A knock at the front door announced our company, and I called toward the bedroom for Kit as I went to answer.
On the stoop, Thoma stood holding a small wicker basket. The smell of fresh yeast and the mound of food hidden beneath a tied kerchief hinted at some kind of bread I gladly accepted when he held it out.
“Reimond’s mother sent rolls,” Thoma explained.
“They’ll be perfect with the chicken,” I replied and stepped aside to beckon him in.
I’d barely closed the door before Kit emerged from the hall.
His hair was slick and damp and his face was freshly shaved.
I tucked the basket of bread under one arm and went to greet him, smiling as I hugged the other low around his hips and nosed along his smooth jaw.
He draped his own arm across my shoulders, and we jointly faced our guest.
“Glad to have you, Thoma,” Kit said. “I hope you’re hungry. I think Pen made enough to feed the whole town.”
“I thought he could take some home,” I said. It seemed a small kindness, if a belated one, to send a meal to Reimond’s family. After my father died, our neighbors brought food for a week or more, flooding our pantry and ice box with more than we could eat in a month.
Thoma stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as the kittens skittered past. Nutmeg dragged the string I’d abandoned, with Ember hot on her tail. Their little paws pattered all the way to the bedroom.
“You got cats.” Thoma tipped his chin in the direction they’d gone.
I nodded solemnly. “Merrick says I’m not fit to father human children, so animals will have to do.”
Thoma’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“It’s nothing.” Kit shot me a weary look before returning his attention to Thoma. “They’re from Rosie. I think she has a few left if you’d like one of your own. They make for good company.” He guided me toward the dining room where the table was set, and Thoma tagged along after.
“Reimond’s father isn’t fond of indoor pets,” Thoma mumbled. “Maybe after I go back to our…” He paused, then frowned. “My house.”
Kit had mentioned that Thoma had been avoiding his and Reimond’s house since the third Oath.
I understood his trepidation and felt a bit of it myself when I considered returning to Eastcliff.
Death left a hole in any home, and it must have been so much worse to sense that absence in the bed you once shared.
Now that Kit and I had a room together, I couldn’t bear the thought of being without him even for a night, much less forever.
I passed the basket of rolls to Kit, and he and Thoma settled around the table. I went to the stove to dish up food, seeking a change of topic and seizing upon the first that came to mind.
“Speaking of Merrick,” I began.
Kit groaned and slumped in his seat. “Can we not?”
Rescuing the cast iron skillet from the cooktop, I carried it to the table with a wooden spoon in my other hand and began scooping carrots and potatoes onto Thoma’s plate, then Kit’s.
“Oh, but we must,” I continued. “Thoma will appreciate this. Thanks to my half-brother’s constant oversight, we’ve been assigned to work with Anders for the fourth Oath.”
I aimed a chagrined look at Thoma, fully expecting him to reciprocate, but he went pale instead.
“What?” he asked breathlessly. “Why?”
“Because Merrick is an unrepentant ass who wants everyone to be as miserable as he is,” I said.
“The fourth Oath has always been a group effort,” Kit cut in to explain. “Not something Anders could do alone. And pairing him with us very well could have been random, Pen.”
I scoffed. “My suffering isn’t random, Kit. It is planned and ordained by the Shroud Warden himself. His Eminence.” I dipped in a mocking bow, then dropped a scoop of vegetables onto my own plate.
Kit sighed again and flipped back the napkin covering on the breadbasket to reveal a pile of fluffy rolls. “Eminence is a title reserved for the Right Hand,” he corrected.
I squeezed past him to grab a roll and stuff it in my mouth before returning the skillet to the stovetop. “His pretentiousness, then,” I said with my mouth full. The cast iron settled with a clatter, and I joined the other two men at the table, dropping heavily into my chair.
“I don't think disparaging the Shroud Warden makes for appropriate dinner conversation.” Kit fixed me with a look, then flicked his eyes meaningfully toward Thoma, who remained stricken.
“I’ll only disparage him as my reluctant relation, then,” I quipped. “Surely I’m allowed to do that.”
Kit took his fork and knife to a chicken thigh and began cutting it free of the bone. “Better that you don't.”
Thoma had yet to touch his food. He sat stiff-backed in his seat and stared at his plate as though it were tainted.
I sopped up some of the juice puddled beneath the chicken with my roll and nibbled on it before dipping my head to catch his eyes. “Everything all right?”
A war of emotion waged on Thoma’s face. He looked reluctant to speak until he managed at last. “You need to be careful with Anders. He’s not a good man.”
The memory of the lumberman taunting Thoma in the square with Reimond’s bloody heart was a visceral one. If it haunted me, it must have been a constant nightmare for Thoma. I set my roll on my plate and scooted my chair closer to Kit’s, hooking one hand around his knee.
“We’ll be careful,” Kit told Thoma. “And glad to be done with him as soon as possible.”
Thoma shifted in his seat while dodging Kit’s gaze. “Just… don’t expect his help. With anything,” he said. “I think he’d sooner sabotage you for the fun of it.”
“And himself along with us?” I asked.
Thoma shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed…” Unease put a strain on his soft features. “He wasn’t kind to Reimond. Even before the end. I don’t doubt he would shove you down to make a step for himself.”
That was so familiar I had to snort. “Sounds like he and Merrick would make fast friends.”
Kit rolled his head toward me. “That's quite enough about Merrick, don't you think?”
I rounded on him while squeezing his leg under the table. “Any Merrick is enough. Too much, in fact.”
“Then you won't mind changing the subject.” The emphasis he put on the last few words overpowered my desire to carry on. I turned my attention to the kitchen window and the unseen Ossuary building beyond.
While I continued to hold my peace, Kit spoke. “So, Thoma, anything interesting going on at the stables? Should we expect a few spring foals?”
Thoma sat silent for a handful of seconds, then pushed to standing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not feeling well. Think I’ll call it an early night.”
I rose as well, and Kit followed suit.
“You’re leaving already?” I glanced forlornly at Thoma’s untouched plate.
His head bobbed as he backed toward the door. “I’ll see you in town.”
Kit brushed past me to accompany our guest to the exit. “Or we can try again another time?”
“Maybe,” Thoma replied.
I looked toward the stove, remembering the pan still heaping with food. “Oh! Do you want to take some food home with you? Or I can bring it by later?”
Paused at the door, Thoma gave another feeble nod. “Later, I think,” he said, then added, “Thank you.”
After he'd gone, Kit returned to his seat at the table. He picked up his fork and knife and began sawing at the chicken while I sank beside him and tipped my head onto his shoulder.
“First Isla, now Thoma?” I said. “Are we so unpleasant to be around?”
Kit shifted away, and I had to stop myself from toppling over as he pinned me with a scathing look.
“The man’s intended just died, and you spent the entire time he was here talking about the man who carved him up and your damn brother. Even I was uncomfortable.”
“Half-brother,” I corrected for lack of a better rebuttal. “That's twice now.”
Kit set his utensils down and drew a lung-swelling breath. “My point remains,” he said. “Thoma’s loss is fresh. He's grieving. You of all people should be sympathetic to that.”
I shot him a side eye. “I didn't realize you invited him so we could sit around and be sad. I'm sure he's done enough of that on his own.”
The spite in my words didn't stall Kit. He came back with equal measure. “I invited him so he didn't feel alone. Because most people here don’t see death as a thing to mourn. It’s a blessing to become a part of the Vessel. Thoma doesn’t feel that way, and neither do we.
We’re some of the few people he can be honest with about his feelings. ”
I slouched in my chair. I'd hoped to entertain Thoma with my woes.
Give him something to think about beyond his own sorrow.
Kit was right. I understood his grief, but I didn't want to experience it.
I didn't want to go to that dark place with him, just like I hadn't wanted to linger there myself after my father's passing.
It was better, easier, to joke with Sayla about other matters or distract ourselves with more pleasant thoughts.
Merrick's antics weren't exactly pleasant, but I'd thought them an effective distraction. Clearly, I'd thought wrong.
Kit looked me up and down, and his expression relaxed. He reached over and swept a lock of hair off my forehead. “I'm sure you meant well. Might have been a bit much for him is all.”
I hummed acknowledgment.
Ember and Nutmeg darted into the room, bounding and barreling over one another. I stooped and caught Nutmeg as she passed and brought her up to cradle against my chest. She squirmed and struggled, needle claws picking at my shirt until she finally tucked under my chin.
Kit sat by, wordlessly watching.
“About what Merrick said,” he began at length.
I cocked a brow. “Which thing? There's been so much I can hardly keep track of it all.”
He frowned, then returned to his plate for a moment to push the food around. “About you being a father,” he said without looking up.
I rubbed my face on Nutmeg’s side, working her into a rumbling purr.
“You said it was nothing,” I mumbled.
“I know.” Kit nodded. “And I didn't mean that. Merrick's opinion is nothing, about that or anything else. That's what I meant to say.”
Nutmeg wiggled away to chase Ember along the base of the cabinets, and I expelled a heavy breath. It didn't bear discussion. In fact, discussing Merrick was what had ruined our dinner in the first place. I wasn't eager to let him spoil the rest of my night, too.
My chair was still butted up to Kit's, so I took the opportunity to lean against him. He wrapped me in a welcoming embrace, and I could smell the soap and oil scenting his skin. I turned my head into his chest and sat there for a long moment, thinking.
“What about the fourth Oath?” That question rose above the rest of my thoughts. “How bad will it be having Anders along?”
Kit held on to me, then hunkered in, bringing his chin to rest against the top of my head.
“It's a gathering of resources,” he replied. His breath made my hair flutter as he added, “Might be nice, actually, to have another pair of hands.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“What kinds of resources?” I asked.
He made a noncommittal sound. “Things Ashpoint needs. Items we can't grow or manufacture ourselves.”
In the isolated encampment, there was much we couldn't provide for ourselves, but the what became less perplexing than the how, and from whom.
“Gathered from where?” I wondered aloud.
Kit shook his head. “I'm not sure.”
“How?”
He sighed. “Perhaps I should have called it a taking of resources.”
At that, I pushed upright and glanced back to find him scowling.
“Taking?” I echoed. “As in stealing?”
When Kit didn't refute my assumption, or say anything at all, I pressed him further.
“Are we going to rob someone?” I yelped, so loudly I felt immediately conspicuous, even in the privacy of our home.
My eyes stretched wide as I stared at Kit, who didn't appear nearly surprised enough.
In fact, since my retreat had freed his arms, he bent forward and lifted his fork to take a bite of the chicken at last.
“That's my understanding of it,” he mumbled around the food.
I continued gawking at him while he stabbed a few carrots, then began eating them one by one.
“Kit, I'm not a criminal,” I hissed. “I can't rob someone.”
He chewed slowly while staring at his plate. “We don't have much choice. Certainly not with Anders watching.”
“What if we get caught?”
To that, I already knew the answer. Cait and Edgar had been caught in the midst of a prior Oath.
It had been a different type of theft, but still a crime, and one that merited punishment.
Considering being a Bone Man in the first place was its own offense, I didn't have high hopes for our fate if we were found out in our theft. Whenever or wherever it might be.
Kit didn't respond, simply chased his food with a swig of water before taking a roll from the basket Thoma left behind.
“I'm sorry I ruined dinner,” I said.
At that, Kit set his fork aside and turned so his knees bumped into mine. He took my hands in his, brushing his thumbs over the mottled scar lines that mangled every digit.
“Nothing’s ruined, sweetheart,” he said. “Not by you.” Pitching forward, he placed a tender kiss on my forehead. “Try not to worry about the Oath. Or Anders. Or any of it. They can add whoever they want to our group. As long as we're together, I'm sure we'll manage.”