Chapter 27
Penny
Two days after our return to Ashpoint, life was getting back to normal. A slightly better version of normal considering Merrick and his treacherous wife were under house arrest, murderous Anders was locked in an Ossuary cell, and I was engaged.
Kit said I didn’t have to hide the leather cord secured snugly around my wrist, so I didn’t. I rolled up my sleeves and went without gloves, grateful for spring coming on and shooing away some of winter’s chill.
While the smithy demanded Kit’s return and attention to a steadily growing pile of orders, I avoided it.
I had the excuse of a dinner to prepare for—our second meeting with the members of our resistance—but my evasion ran deeper than that.
The close call in Wendwood with the sights and smells of fire and the aftermath of their mission reduced to ash and embers still haunted me.
Kit had likely deduced that for himself, especially since I made a habit of sleeping as far as possible from the fireplace in our bedroom.
He insisted on keeping it lit, fretting about the nightly temperatures dropping to uncomfortable lows.
I lost that argument but won in other ways.
Namely, having an excuse to keep Kit snuggled up to me under a pile of blankets, a physical barrier between me and the angry orange flames.
I rested peacefully, but a visit to the smithy remained out of the question.
My day had been spent first in the market, then tidying up the house.
A pot of stew was simmering on the stove, and a loaf of bread was in the oven when Kit returned for the evening.
I had coffee ready and a kitten on my hip when I greeted him at the door.
My imaginings of our future together had become real.
More than just whims, they were glimpses of a reality I couldn’t wait to embrace for the rest of my life.
All that remained was the matter of the Bone Men, and that seemed more manageable by the day.
“Evening, darling,” I said, waiting till Kit had shed his cloak to dip in and peck a kiss on his cheek.
He pressed into it, and I felt a smile shifting his lips. When I drew back, he turned and dragged a hand through his black curls. His brow arched as he looked me over. “You’re in a cheerful mood.”
I smoothed my hands down the front of my apron.
“Rosie’s coming. I haven’t seen her since before we left.
And I rather like having company…” I checked his expression.
I doubted either of us had forgotten the previous dinner party when he’d excused himself in a rush, leaving me to deal with the guests and the awkwardness he left behind.
“I know you don’t,” I added. And if he wanted to pass on this gathering, I wouldn’t fault him. Fires or would-be friends, we both had things that made us shy away.
Kit tipped his head to one side then the other, looking less committal than he sounded when he replied, “I’ll manage. Better than last time.”
I eased back into a grin as he sidestepped me on his way to the kitchen.
“Stew for dinner, I see,” he called out. “Mmm, and coffee.”
I was still near the door when another knock rang out.
Springing forward, I yanked it open to find Rosie on the stoop with a basket of cookies hanging from her arm.
She barely had time to shift the baked goods out of the way before I threw myself at her, ready for a hug she stopped by planting a hand in the middle of my chest.
“Penwell Oliver, is that what I think it is?” Her dark eyes strayed up and over, settling on my arm, sleeve rolled up to my elbow and my exposed wrist bedecked with the etched leather cord.
The sound that slipped out of me was some mix of a gasp and a giggle, and Rosie responded in kind.
“Kit!” she shouted toward the other end of the house. “You scoundrel, you snapped him up, didn’t you?”
“I did indeed,” Kit called back. He sounded almost as pleased as I was.
Rosie grabbed my arm and pulled it down to inspect the cord. “No half measures taken here,” she said, then tugged on the knot. “You are well and truly betrothed.”
She released me, and I cupped my other hand over the cord, rubbing it against my skin. “He asked me on a sleigh ride in the snow,” I gushed. “With reindeer.”
Rosie hugged her basket of treats while beaming. “Well, how’s a man to say no to that?”
I laughed again, still a bit shrill and giddy. When Kit’s hand brushed the small of my back, I jumped and spun toward him with my cheeks flushing.
“Come out of the cold, sweetheart,” he murmured, then pulled gently at my waist. “You, too, Rosie.”
Once inside, we took the cookies to the kitchen and Kit took a seat at the dining table to nurse a mug of coffee.
I snuck Rosie a hug after all, squeezing and lifting her petite form the way I used to do with Sayla.
As with my sister, the gesture earned me a fit of giggles before I set Rosie on her feet and stepped back.
Her umber skin stained with a blush as she straightened her dress, then folded her arms. “When did all this happen?” She indicated my wrist again. “And where? The only place I’ve been is farmland and the road to it and back. It was quite dreary. Certainly no reindeer.”
I told her about Stagcross with its stained glass and the art store that offered the nearest thing I’d ever seen to magic.
“Which reminds me!” I exclaimed, then darted out of the kitchen toward our bedroom.
My sketchbook was on top of the dresser there.
I’d stopped leaving it in the living room after the Anders incident.
Flipping it open, I carefully tore a page from inside and returned to Rosie with it offered out. She took the paper and gave it little more than a passing glance before her eyes widened.
“Oh, Pen, the colors!”
“I told you!” I sidled up to her while looking over the sketch I’d made of her calico cat laying in a patch of grass. Wildflowers speckled the open space, and a butterfly circled above the cat's head, giving her something to bat at with her raised paw.
“You drew this for me?” Rosie asked while dragging her fingers over the sketch.
I nodded.
“Good thing,” she replied. “Father and Mother wouldn't believe such a thing as colored lead if I didn't have proof!”
Another knock sent Kit to the door. Rosie and I turned to see the rest of our dinner guests arriving in a trickling stream.
Thoma led the charge with Reimond’s family at his heels, and Rosie's parents followed after, along with a few new faces.
Soon, our tiny cottage was packed with friends and neighbors all chatting and bustling about.
I made my way to where Kit had taken an observatory post in the corner of the living room. He was focused, perhaps a bit too attentive, but not uncomfortably so. Even still, I slipped my hand into his, then brushed my thumb across his knuckles, drawing his gaze to mine.
The sharpness in his stare grew soft, and he quickly tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I have an apology to make, then I'll leave the rest to you,” he said.
“But you'll stay?”
He dipped his chin in a nod. “By your side. Always.”
With that, he ventured out into the room, angling toward Reimond’s mother where she loitered with her husband near the fireplace. I watched him for a moment, long enough to see the quiet exchange begin before Thoma and Rosie crowded into my line of sight.
“You didn't tell her about the trial?” Thoma gestured to Rosie, who looked vaguely perturbed.
I raised my hands. “I would have! We only had a few minutes before everyone arrived.”
“And you spent those talking about your betrothal,” Thoma quipped. “Which is lovely, but not as pertinent as the real reason our Shroud Warden hasn't ventured from his home in days.”
I'd heard the excuse Merrick and Violette were doling out.
Rumors circulated in town when I was at the market about the dreadful illness that had taken root in their home.
They would be in quarantine for a week, maybe two, to ensure it didn't spread to the other townsfolk.
Of course, I knew they had no sickness to share, only lies.
I scoffed. “At least this bit of treachery backfired on him. If he got away with one more thing, I might've screamed.”
The three of us shared a chuckle, but I sobered when I realized my joke may have been closer to the truth than I intended.
“I'm a bit relieved,” I added, tugging on my shirt collar. “Kit was called into question for something he didn't do, but it seems I've been absolved of something I did do.”
“And what was that?” Kit’s voice resonated from over my shoulder, and I flinched. That made twice that night he'd crept up on me. Clearly, I needed to keep a better eye on the man.
With another pull at the neck of my shirt, I turned to face Kit directly.
“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” I said, then immediately corrected myself.
“Well, I did for a bit. Because I thought you’d be mad.
I was mad. I was so mad I wanted to spit fire, and I…
” With the three of them all staring, I felt myself shrivel under the weight of their combined gaze.
After a pause and a throat-clearing swallow, I peered up at Kit. He had a sort of warning in his expression, expecting the worst. It wasn’t as bad as all that…
“I went to Merrick’s house the morning before we left for Stagcross,” I said quickly. I would have continued with equal haste but was interrupted by Kit’s groan.
“We talked,” I assured him. “Just a talk. I didn’t hit him this time.”
“You hit the Shroud Warden?” Thoma gasped while Rosie snickered.
My brows dipped in a scowl as I ticked my finger at him. “I hit my half-brother. And he had it coming.”
I curled my fingers as though I could still feel the ache in my knuckles from their collision with Merrick’s face. My lips twitched, fighting a smug smile until Kit sobered me again.
“Just a talk,” he repeated without bothering to temper his doubt. “In the wee hours of morning. In his home.”