Chapter 7
Penny
After watching Kit practically dragged away from the forge, I was on edge. He had been, too, reluctant to obey the summons while feigning bravery for my sake. In the hour that had passed since then, I began to fear that might have been the last time I would ever see him.
It was dire, but dire things happened here.
Reimond and Tessa were dead, and Merrick was wreaking havoc.
Rosie was still out of sorts after her ordeal, and even Kit went pale anytime the third Oath was mentioned, specifically regarding my close scrape with death.
It seemed this small corner of the world could turn on us—any of us—in a moment.
At a loss of ways to occupy my time, I made dinner and watched it grow cold on the dining table. Usually, I would draw, but my sketchbook laid open with Ember asleep on top of it. I told myself I didn’t want to disturb her, but the pages had gone untouched long before she settled in.
Darkness swept over Ashpoint but brought no sign of Kit. If he’d been detained, how would I know? How long would I wait and worry before I learned that some terrible fate had befallen him?
I thought of Cait and Edgar being executed in some town far from here.
Did Ashpoint treat their criminals similarly?
Kit cheated at the third Oath. Levitt knew about it.
He’d chosen not to act on it, but what if he changed his mind?
Or if someone else found out and forced his hand?
Someone like my despicable half-brother.
A growl rose in my throat as I stood from the couch.
I turned toward the door, fully ready to march across town to the Ossuary and demand to speak to Merrick, or Levitt, or whoever would see me.
I shouldn’t have stayed behind. I should have followed Kit and the messenger, even at a distance, and waited in the atrium like I’d suggested or lurked in the echoing halls.
Then I would have known what was keeping him away. I would have known he was safe…
When the front door swung inward, I jumped back, almost tripping over Nutmeg as she darted past.
Kit stepped in, throwing back the hood of his cloak, then shedding it to hang on the rack. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at me as he toed off his boots and ran a hand through his coal black curls.
My stomach churned along with my mind, mixing up thoughts and questions as all the dread of the afternoon collided with relief. It was too much to put into words, and I didn’t know where to start so, while Kit pushed the door shut to close out the cold and dark, I finally said his name.
“Kit?”
He glanced over, and I waited for a smile, even a weak assurance would do. Instead, he was stormy and stern.
“I talked to Levitt,” he said.
My brows pinched together as I fought the urge to rush him. He was pensive enough he must have been thinking on what had happened, so I waited for him to come out with it in his own time.
That wasn’t to say I waited patiently.
I padded forward with half a mind to hug him, but he held up a hand.
“It was about the third Oath,” he said.
My stomach bottomed out, and I stopped in place.
“Merrick was involved. With Harlan and Otis…” He trailed off.
I searched his features while my heart thundered. Harlan helped me. He provided the fluids that saved my life. His involvement was not a surprise, and Merrick had been there to distribute the poison in the first place. Otis was the only unknown, but I’d never given him much consideration.
At least, I hadn’t until Kit beckoned to the sofa behind me and said, “We should sit.”
We settled in less comfortably than I would have liked.
It was tense, almost formal, despite the fire crackling in the hearth and the kittens tumbling across the rug since Ember had roused from her nap.
Kit sat stiff backed and silent for far too long, his pale skin aglow like it so often was from the forge’s flames.
“Kit?” I prompted at last.
He drew a steadying breath. “Merrick, Harlan, and Otis conspired to kill us,” he said.
“They used a stronger dose of hemlock. Levitt knows, but he refuses to take action. Apparently, Isla confessed to him that she overheard them planning it, but he fears her word alone won’t hold up against the others.
Not to mention exposing her testimony could put her at risk of retaliation. If they’re willing to attempt murder…”
Kit’s voice became a drone in the back of my mind as I pushed to my feet. The words bounced around inside my skull, restating the fact that my half-brother had tried to kill me and Kit. I didn’t doubt it.
Growing up with Merrick, I’d been enough younger and smaller than him that he’d loomed large in my mind.
A figure to look up to and try to model myself after.
Even when it became clear I would never fill the mold he made for me, I tried.
I wanted his approval almost more than Father’s because it felt harder to attain.
A loftier goal. And, gods, I was optimistic. Naive. Foolish about so many things.
I moved into the kitchen, scuffing my bare feet across the cold wood floor and adjusting the dishes on the table. I didn’t really see them. Didn’t hear Kit approaching or sense his proximity until he laid his hand on my arm.
“Pen?”
My gaze settled on the bowl of beans gone tepid. I gave the spoon and napkin set beside it a nudge, making them perfectly straight.
“He used to say he wished I’d never been born,” I said, still staring at the utensil. “I’m beginning to feel the same.”
Kit’s hand tightened around my bicep, and he turned me to face him in a movement so abrupt it left me reeling. I blinked up at him, resenting the warm well of tears in my eyes.
I expected sympathy, so the harsh glare I got instead stunned me. I was even more surprised when he snapped, “Don’t say that. Not ever.”
My lips fell apart, and the bottom one quivered while the near fury in Kit’s eyes held my tongue. Finally, I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it.”
Cupping my hand over his seemed to stir him to awareness, and his expression went slack. He dragged me to him, chest to chest with arms thrown around me in a tight embrace.
Only a few tears escaped before I composed myself, replacing sorrow with anger. Kit pulled back and rubbed the place he’d squeezed on my bicep, then brushed my hair back.
“I wanted to take you away from here,” he said. “Before the Oath. When I saw you holding that chalice… I’ve never been so afraid.”
I knew exactly the instant he was talking about. It was that colorless moment, like the blood had left him and gave him an almost haunted look.
“You even told me you thought Merrick would try something underhanded,” he added. “I should have listened.”
I held his gaze, dredged in memories of watching Merrick work the fields with Father. I chased after them but never quite caught up. It seemed Merrick moved faster or goaded the horse on to keep distance forever between us. He'd been determined to be rid of me then and ever since.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” Kit said while I struggled to listen. “No more lingering in town; no more going out alone. We go to the forge, then come back here. Always together. Tell Rosie she can come here for baking lessons. I’ll buy whatever supplies you need.”
He stepped back and began pacing the kitchen floor, talking more to himself than me.
“Keep your knife close at hand. If Merrick approaches you, or Harlan, or Otis, walk the other way.” He drew up short and faced me. “Don’t confront him about this, Penny. It’s too dangerous. I don’t know what lengths he’ll go to—”
“For how long?” I asked, feeling weary.
Kit blinked. “What?”
I drew a deep breath, aggravating the tickle that seemed perpetually trapped in my lungs. “How long are we going to carry on like that? Scurrying around like mice avoiding some awful trap?”
Aggravation rippled across Kit’s features as he readied a hasty reply. It didn’t come, though. I was more inclined to snappy comebacks and sharp retorts. Kit simmered. He considered, then responded in a measured tone.
“As long as it takes.”
For as long as he’d paused, I didn’t hesitate at all. “No.”
“What do you mean no?”
I set my stance. “I mean no, Kit. Because Merrick isn’t a trap; he’s a cat, and he’ll come after us. He’ll hunt us no matter where or how we hide, so I don’t intend to. I won’t live like I’m afraid of him—”
“I am afraid, Pen!” Kit surged forward, catching my hands and holding them with white-knuckled fingers.
“Of Merrick. Of Harlan. Of every godsdamned thing. I have something I can’t afford to lose…
” He looked down, then up again, so tense I thought he might tremble.
“Coming back here, I risked myself, and I was fine with that. But not you. I won’t risk you. ”
I had risked him. Unintentionally. Unknowingly.
I hadn’t loved him yet when I asked him to bring me here.
If I had, I would have known that retrieving my father’s corpse wasn’t worth causing this darling man to suffer for even a day.
I’d given us both to a lost cause, and now something much more nefarious towered over us.
The danger that had lurked my whole life was rapidly closing in.
“Merrick wouldn’t bother you at all if not for me,” I said.
Kit thumbed over my scarred skin. “We can’t be sure of that. He was close with my father. He has other reasons to spite me.”
I nodded and glanced aside until Kit hooked a finger under my chin and turned my face back toward his.
“Listen to me, Pen. I promised to keep you safe, and that hasn’t changed. Nothing will happen to you as long as I’m here.”
His dark eyes were rife with such sincerity that I wanted to believe him.
He needed me to; I could tell from how hard he stared, silently begging me to take him at his word.
But I couldn’t, because I’d seen how readily he threw himself into danger for my sake.
If he died and I survived, he would consider it a triumph. I couldn’t fathom a greater loss.
“What if you’re not?” I asked. “What if the next time Levitt summons you, it’s to your death? It can’t always be as simple as poison. It hasn’t been. Merrick has tried to convict you of other things.”
Kit heaved a breath, and his gaze fell. When he spoke again, it was in a murmur. “If that happens, you need to leave. The moment you get word, go get your mother and sister and take them to Forstford. To my house. The farm will be forfeit, but you’ll be safe.”
I nodded. “And you’ll be dead. Is that it?”
His jaw clenched. “I’ll come for you if I can, and we can have a life together.”
Envisioning myself returning to Eastcliff, thoroughly beaten and alone, dragging Mother and Sayla away from their home and retreating to Kit’s house without him, then living there in his absence, knowing he was gone, stirred me to sickness.
He said if he could follow, he would, but that was purely pacification.
Shaking my head, I slipped free of him, then crossed my arms to keep him from catching me up again. “If you’re staying, I’m staying.” I fixed him with a knowing look. “You do plan to stay, don’t you?”
Kit took hold of the nearby chair back and leaned heavily against it.
He pondered for a moment, always so careful, before he answered.
“My father made this place what it is. I watched that happen, and it’s followed me ever since.
It will always follow me as long as the Bone Men exist. I thought Levitt could take things in a different direction, but I can't trust him not to be as bad as the rest of them anymore.
I'm the last line of defense. I have to destroy this or I'll have no peace.”
“We're the last line of defense,” I corrected. “The two of us. Together.”
His stern expression gave way to a fragile smile, and he dipped his head in a nod.
I stepped into him then, welcoming his embrace and holding him close in return. I kissed his cheek, then his lips, seeking the comfort I so often found in his arms.
The heaviness that had weighed on me all evening began to relent, and I sighed, driving out a cough. Kit frowned and fretted, going so far as to put the back of his hand to my forehead to check my temperature.
“I'm not sick,” I protested, and Kit's face fell.
“No,” he agreed, disappointed because it would have been better if I was.
Better to think the symptoms would pass than that it was a permanent infirmity. Leatherworking or baking with Rosie weren't strenuous activities, but I rasped and wheezed sometimes simply walking across town. I worried to think what would happen come spring planting.
With a parting peck of a kiss, I pulled away. “Think I'll turn in.”
“You didn't eat.” Kit gestured to the beans and bread.
“Don't have the stomach for it,” I replied, then forced a smile. “It'll be an odd breakfast.”
I didn't make it a single step before Kit fell into pursuit. I glanced back at him.
“Do you want me to lay down with you?” he asked.
My smile returned, more genuine this time. “I'd like that.”
Ember and Nutmeg chased us into the bedroom, where I crawled under the covers and let my body melt into the straw mattress.
Kit got in on his side and slid across to cozy up behind me, his chest against my spine and his face in my hair.
He was still sooty from working the forge that morning, and he smelled like smoke, but I didn't mind.
I pushed into him, grabbing his arms when they threaded around me and hugging them against my ribs. His even breaths instructed mine, drawing deeper and slower as sleep crept in.
“Pen?”
My eyelids fluttered open. “Hmm?”
Kit’s warm breath ruffled my hair as he tucked his legs behind mine. “I'm not asking you to leave now,” he murmured, “but promise me, please… If something happens to me, say you'll go.”
I tried to roll to face him, but he held me fast.
“Your mother and sister need you,” he said. “You have to survive this. Don't let both of us die if only one of us has to.”
I winced, pained by the seemingly endless discussions of death and killing and loss. It wouldn't do to tell him that, and I didn't have it in me to argue, so I gave a gentle nod.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Kit prompted.
“Okay,” I repeated, then squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. Soon enough, I was.