Chapter 19
Penny
Ispent the week after our return from Wendwood in our room, in bed, clinging onto whatever part of Kit I could grab and dozing the days away. After Thoma’s visit, Rosie came by and returned Ember and Nutmeg. She also brought news about Anders.
It seemed Levitt had succeeded in getting the lumberman to confess to something, because Anders had been barred from completing his Oaths.
He was jailed in the Ossuary even now, and I didn’t hate the idea that he might be in the same cell I was trapped in, and that he would stay there for the next six months.
Between bouts of rest and nursing the fever, chills, and relentless cough, I spent a bit of time thinking.
We weren’t alone in this.
The goal of sabotaging the Bone Men was more attainable than ever. We had solid support, and it would only continue to grow. Rosie was spreading the word through her bakery stand, and it was becoming clear that Kit and I were not the only ones who wanted to see the end of this place.
Another thing I thought about and asked Rosie to help me with was inviting the closest of our newfound allies to a meeting.
A dinner at the house where we could discuss our mutual goals and share plans and strategy.
Anticipation of such real, measurable progress after months of biding our time was enough to lure me out of bed and into the kitchen, where I tore into the pile of groceries Kit had brought home the day before.
The afternoon was spent bustling around the stove and sink, prepping a turkey large enough to feed a crowd, stewed potatoes with onion, and a loaf of seeded bread.
Since Kit was busy with his first day back at the smithy, Rosie came over early and got to work tidying and arranging the house to accommodate our guests.
She anticipated at least eight attendees including herself, which would pack the two-bedroom cottage to bursting.
Just after sunset, people began to arrive.
Rosie’s family came first. Her father and mother greeted me with warm hugs and smiles, and we exchanged pleasantries until Thoma arrived with Reimond’s parents and siblings.
I hadn’t spoken to them much during my time in Ashpoint, and it was jarring to see Reimond’s younger brother, especially.
The boy was barely in his teen years, but he looked to be a duplicate of Reimond.
Same auburn hair and gangly build, even the same smile when I clasped his hand and gave it a shake.
Thoma was encircled by the lot of them, or perhaps guarded. Reimond’s mother kept a guiding hand on Thoma’s arm as they found seats in the living area, and I wondered if her hold on him was a kind of tether to the child she’d lost.
It was a sobering thought.
Eight guests left me scrambling to find chairs for everyone. Reimond’s sister and lookalike brother remained standing, as did Rosie and I, while the others engaged in lively chatter. It made the room feel impossibly full, but in the best way. It was alive and vibrant. Hopeful. We all were.
I brewed coffee and passed out drinks, waiting to begin the real discussion until Kit got home.
This was his dream, first and foremost. His wish to rectify the sins that had been committed in this place and to save whoever we could from the damnation the Bone Men were working to bring upon the world.
He deserved to speak his piece before anyone else.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait long. When the door swung open without a knock, I beamed and trotted over to the entry, ready to greet Kit with a kiss and congratulations.
He would be so proud to see this. So pleased. I knew it.
He stopped on the other side of the threshold to knock the snow off his boots, and there he stayed, gawking at the flock of people who had all turned to his arrival.
I threw my arms around him, catching a touch of chill as a gust whipped past and made his cloak billow around his legs. I expected him to shoo me inside, but he remained fixed in place and so quiet I finally leaned back to get a glimpse of his face.
The usual soot lined the creases in his forehead as he frowned, and his eyes panned across those gathered.
“Gods, Pen,” he murmured. “You’ve managed to pack half the town in there.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the living area. Since we’d brought in the chairs from the kitchen, the room was lined wall to wall with furniture, and the open space was littered with those of us on our feet.
“It’s cozy,” I insisted. “And only two families. We’ll have more next time.”
Kit’s throat bobbed through a swallow. “Next time?” he asked, his voice a croak.
“Of course.” I tugged on his arms, trying to lure him in from the cold. “It should be a regular thing. Meeting, discussing, advancing the plan…”
“The plan,” Kit echoed flatly. “Right.”
Everyone was watching and keeping so quiet I worried they could hear our conversation.
This was not the reaction I’d expected. Kit seemed stunned by it all, like it was a surprise party rather than a planned event. Gripping his biceps, I pushed up to kiss his cheek and stayed on my tiptoes while I whispered in his ear.
“You didn’t forget, did you? We talked about it this morning.”
He gave his head a slow shake, dusting dark curls across my nose. “I didn’t forget, I just thought we might have a bit of time…” He swallowed again, and I heard his jaw tick. “I’m later getting back than I expected is all.”
Planting one more kiss on his stubbled jaw, I pulled back and gave a little shiver to shake off the cold whipping through.
“Well, come in,” I urged. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
If not for seeing me shudder, I wasn’t sure he would have entered at all. He looked more apt to return to the smithy and stay there, and his discomfort didn’t lessen as Reimond and Rosie’s fathers both stood and came to greet him.
“Thank you for arranging this.” Reimond’s father grabbed Kit’s hand and pumped it in a forceful shake.
I untied Kit’s cloak and whisked it away to the hooks by the door while the older man carried on.
“We’ve needed someone with vision in this place for far too long. Glad to have you taking charge.”
Rosie’s father crowded in next and clapped his hand on Kit’s shoulder. “I had my doubts about you when you first came back, but Penny has nothing but good to say of you, and now I see why.”
Kit’s pale cheeks flooded with blush as he nodded wordlessly to the older men’s compliments.
My smile had returned at their kind words.
Since we’d first come to Ashpoint, Kit had been steadfastly cynical and skeptical of the people.
It had been wonderful to watch that change over time, for him to gradually see the good I saw in our neighbors and now friends.
And for them to see the good in Kit, enough to come here tonight and tell him so, was a truly beautiful thing.
I was grinning wide when Kit sidestepped and pressed his hand in the small of my back.
“Pen, can I help you with anything in the kitchen?” he asked.
Judging by the urgency in his brown-black eyes and his gentle push forward, it was more of a demand than a question.
“Uh, sure.” My face flushed with a touch of embarrassment at being delayed a second time. I addressed our guests as Kit ushered me past them. “Be right back, everyone. Then we’ll get started.”
The kitchen was only a matter of feet removed from the living room, but even that meager distance seemed to alleviate some of the strain on Kit’s face as he went to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.
Finding none, he went next to the cabinet while I stood idly beside the dining table and twisted my stockinged foot against the floorboards.
After a hurried rifling of the cabinet, he turned to me. “Where are all the cups?”
I tipped my thumb toward the gathering that had, thankfully, resumed small talk behind us. “In use,” I said apologetically.
If this was to become a recurring event, we would need to buy more cups. And plates. And forks and knives. Some people were already going to have to eat the turkey with spoons or their fingers, but this didn’t feel like the time to mention that.
Across from me, Kit braced his arms on the counter and expelled a sigh. Then, he tipped his head to beckon me closer.
Once I was in a conspiratorial range, he spoke in a harsh whisper. “What exactly did you tell these people?”
My lips bent in a frown. “Nothing yet. Like I said, we were waiting for you.”
“Why?”
He looked so genuinely confused that I stammered through my reply.
“Because they’re your people, Kit. You’re their leader.”
“No.” His head shook. “This is your group. You put them together; you should lead them.”
I glanced back into the living area, catching a worried look from Rosie before facing Kit once more. A queasy feeling had settled in my stomach. Unmet expectations muddled with pressure I wasn’t prepared for.
Kit was the one with ideas, with knowledge and experience. He’d been in this place before, among these people. I was just a foolish farm boy, plucked up by my roots and dropped in the middle of a plot I didn’t fully understand. Certainly nothing I was confident in my ability to carry out.
“But-but I don’t lead,” I said, still stuttering. “I follow. I follow you.”
My gaze was beseeching as it met Kit’s, and I felt perhaps a measure of the discomfort he’d showed since he opened the front door.
Kit’s hand found mine, and he wove our fingers together to give a brief squeeze. “Who brought them here tonight?” he asked.
I glanced up to find a faint smile on his lips.
“Who told Rosie and Thoma?” he continued, then feathered his other hand through my hair. “Who started all this? Not me.”
As comforting as his words should have been, they rang hollow. Almost forced. I didn’t doubt that he believed them, but he didn’t seem to feel them in this moment. Neither did I.