Chapter 29 #2
“Do you have a home of your own?” Mother asked. “Somewhere to lay your head besides the road? I imagine life as a traveling blacksmith can be a bit… vagrant.”
I pumped water from the sink, cringing at the reminder of our lies.
Dishonesty must have played a part in my mother's scrutiny.
We told her I'd be gone a matter of weeks, not months.
And that Kit would teach me a trade I still knew very little about.
Some truth could have been a balm for her ire, but revealing the details of what had kept us away so long, and what we'd done and become would likely end with us both cast out in the cold.
If Kit shared my worries, he didn't let on, though I'd come to expect as much from him.
“I own a house not far from here,” he replied. “In Forstford. I’d be happy to take you all there—”
“What about family?” Mother interjected. “Are your parents living? Or is there someone else who can vouch for you?”
I opened my mouth to interrupt—the subject of Kit’s parentage was, at best, a complicated one—but Sayla beat me to speaking.
“Do you have need of a pencil and paper, Mother? So you can write all this down? Make it official?”
The mention of pencils made my heart leap, and I set the kettle on the stove before turning away.
“That reminds me! Kit got me an engagement gift!” I started toward the living area where I'd offloaded my satchel upon arriving, but Mother kept speaking as though I had not.
“They're reasonable questions, Sayla,” she chastised. “Someone should ask them.”
Sayla stifled a laugh. “I'm sure Penny's asked all the questions he cares to. Aren't these things his to wonder?”
Mother swiveled toward her, redirecting every ounce of her scrutiny. Tension clouded the air, and I wondered if this was what it had been like while I'd been away: two stubborn women vying for dominance in the tiny house.
Mother's lips pinched a smile so saccharine it almost made me laugh. But humor shifted into irritation as she spoke.
“Your brother is a kindly sort. Easily given to trust—”
“Her brother is right here,” I tried to interject but was rebuffed with a flap of Sayla’s hand.
With me silenced, my sister returned her attention to our mother. “I simply don't recall you being quite so discerning when it came to my potential suitors,” she said.
Mother huffed. “Your potential suitors were local boys. We saw most of them born. Knew their families. This man”—she gestured to Kit—“is a stranger.”
“I’m happy to rectify that,” Kit said, “and answer all your questions. They’re more than reasonable.
No, I have no living family. I’ve been traveling for work recently, but I also have a home and a business in Forstford, and I don’t want for money.
Or property. I want only Penny’s happiness and your good faith, and I’m willing to earn it. ”
The irritation that had blistered up inside me suddenly soothed, and I found myself standing by, smiling idly at my intended.
Mother sat back in her chair, fussing with the folds in her skirt. Sayla settled as well, standing from the table and going to check on the kettle I’d abandoned. Once she was assured it wasn’t quite warm enough to brew coffee, she turned toward me.
“Now, Pen, you said something about an engagement gift?”
Grateful for Kit’s unfailing calm and my sister’s ability to redirect a conversation, I breathed out the last bit of tension and nodded.
“Let me get my bag.”
We passed the rest of the day more amiably. After sunset, Sayla and I prepared dinner while Kit and my mother talked. I was reluctant to leave them unmonitored, but Kit shooed me away with enough assuring confidence that I was able to settle into deboning a chicken while Sayla diced potatoes.
We ate in quiet. I had so much to share but didn’t want to disrupt the uneasy peace, so I kept my mouth full and my knee pressed against Kit’s under the table until Mother excused herself for an early bedtime.
Sayla and I cleared and washed the dishes, then retired to the living room where Kit had built a fire. I went to our shared bag and dug out a package of Rosie’s cookies I’d brought along, passing them around for everyone to take.
My mouth was still full, and I was pushed fully against Kit—relishing the feeling of him leaning back just as heavily, a welcome weight against my side—when Sayla spoke.
“We got your letters.”
I’d almost forgotten about the missives I’d managed to sneak out of Ashpoint on several occasions.
They’d been far less detailed than I would have liked, but the most recent ones we’d sent from Stagcross announced our courtship.
Even without that, I’d certainly talked enough about Kit for the news of our engagement to not come as a complete surprise.
I nibbled the corner of my cookie, shortbread filled with raspberry jam, while trying to remember exactly what I’d written about. It would be a starting point, at least. A door opening into all the truths I had yet to tell.
“How has it been?” Sayla continued while I pondered. “Your whirlwind romance?” She smiled, but it wavered as she cast a glance toward the hall where our mother’s room was. “And where is Father?”
A breath left me in a rush. I glanced at Kit, but with his head resting on my shoulder, I couldn’t make out his expression.
So far, my much-anticipated return home had been a mixed bag of emotions, and far more bad ones than I'd expected. Confessing that the quest to recover our father's stolen body was doomed before it ever began would tip the scales further into dismay.
My defeat must have announced itself because I didn't have to say a word for Sayla to deduce, “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
I nodded ruefully.
She swept her blonde curls over her shoulder to tug at the ends. “Well, I’m glad you're safe. There were more than a few times I feared you dead, and that I’d sent you to it…” She paused as a wistful look clouded her eyes. “It’s been lonely here without you.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I said.
Sayla waved her hand as though she could dismiss the sentimentality before it carried us both away.
“Psh. You’ve had plenty of company.” Her gaze drifted to where Kit slumped against me, and she grinned.
“Look at that man. I’d say he’s at least half as smitten with you as you are with him. He hardly takes his eyes off you.”
Twisting while trying not to unsettle him, I managed to get a glimpse of Kit’s face where it tipped onto my shoulder. He was drowsy, or perhaps already dozing, the eyes in question closed and his features slack.
“They’re not on me now,” I murmured through a smile. I slid my arm out from under his head and turned to let him drape across my chest instead. Rather than rouse, Kit settled in, tucking his head under my chin and hugging onto my waist.
I buried a kiss in his curls then whispered, “Tired, darling?”
“I’m fine,” came his mumbled reply.
Sayla chuckled.
“You’d be more comfortable in bed,” I reminded him.
Sayla had made up our old bedroom that afternoon for Kit and I to share while we were here. I smirked at the thought of her trying to force us into one bed on our last visit. This time, we would gladly start off that way.
Kit hummed and rubbed his head against me. “Plenty comfortable. Just wake me when you’re ready to turn in.” He shifted again, situating himself to sink more deeply into the sofa cushions.
I stayed still and quiet while he drifted off, then laid my head on top of his.
It was good to see him as comfortable here as I was.
Especially since I hoped it would be his home someday.
Soon. We could have a fall wedding in the fields, surrounded by sunflowers, and everything would be yellow-bright and beautiful.
The thought made me sigh.
“You may not have found Father,” Sayla said in a low voice, “but this is better, I think.”
I raised a brow at her. “What is?”
Her expression softened. “Your happiness.”
Blush warmed the tips of my ears, and I hid a grin in Kit’s hair as Sayla carried on.
“Don’t worry too much about Mother. She worries, is all.”
“She worries about the farm,” I grumbled, and it surprised me.
I’d tried not to dwell on my mother’s insinuation—and she wasn’t the only one to assume as much—that Kit only wanted me for the worth of my inheritance.
We had sprung this whole thing on her, and I couldn’t blame her for her ignorance.
But the implication still stung. Like my own parent thought I was worth less than some plot of land.
Sayla made a soft sound of dissent. “The farm is her life and livelihood, of course she worries about it. But you’re her son.
And you’ve always been her favorite. More so now after she’s had only me for company these past few months.
We’re both a bit tired of each other, I fear.
” She turned aside, gazing into the hearth where the flaming logs hissed and popped.
There would be no good time to tell her, but I decided to get the bad news out of the way. “We can’t stay, you know.”
My sister’s head whipped around, and her eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you? Father’s gone. You have your prize.” She indicated Kit. “What else would keep you away?”
“Merrick,” I replied, and all the wrinkles in her face smoothed.
On the subject of bad news, our half-brother was mired in the worst of it. I worked my jaw, wondering what would be the best place to start. What would worry her least? What wouldn’t get Kit and I thrown out of here?
“He’s not in the militia, Sayla,” I began. “I’m not sure he ever was.”
My sister sat back, visibly guarded as I explained Merrick’s involvement with the Bone Men.
I smiled a bit talking about his absurd ceremonial garb, but her stern expression didn’t falter.
She might have pieced together the bit about Father’s body on her own, but I detailed it as well.
I was never good at keeping secrets, and Sayla was my most loyal supporter.
If anyone was going to understand what I’d seen and done since I’d left home, it was her.
I told her about the Oaths. Branding, grave robbing, poison, the mission in Wendwood, and the rats we offloaded in a remote wood on our way to Stagcross.
There were more to come, and I told her about them, too.
That they existed, anyway, since neither Kit nor I knew what they entailed.
Then I told her about my new friends in Ashpoint, our fragile resistance, and our hope to change that small corner of the world.
Sayla loved to chatter as much as I did, so her silence after I finished speaking was unsettling.
I wondered if she didn’t believe me and would want proof of my claims. Or worse, that she did believe me and would blame Kit for leading me into it.
As much as I told him I would follow him, I felt more often like I was the one pulling him along, getting into things he wanted to keep me out of.
How many times had he tried to send me back here?
Away from danger? But that would also be away from him, and a world without Kit was not one I wanted to inhabit.
Finally, Sayla’s head started a slow nod. “Mother can’t know any of this,” she said, seemingly to herself until she pinned me with a solemn look. “You know that don’t you? It would be the death of her.”
The necessity of more secrecy deflated me, but I didn’t argue. Like Sayla mentioned, she’d been with Mother all the months I’d been away. She knew the state of things better than I did, and I would trust her on this.
“What should I tell her, then?” I asked, frowning “When we leave again?”
Sayla rocked back in her chair with a snort. “Certainly not that you’ve joined a cult and paid homage to a wicked god.”
I drew a halting breath. I hadn’t told her what might have been the most important part; how the Bone Men had corrupted the idea of Eeus, how he and Paneus were partners, lovers, equals. But those thoughts were interrupted by Sayla’s next words.
“We have time. We’ll figure something out.
” She nodded again, processing all she’d been told while a frown crept across her lips.
“But Pen? How much more time do you need?” she asked.
“Help with planting is one thing, but the fields need tending. It’s not the sort of thing you can leave unmanaged. And Mother and I…”
She glanced toward the back door and the acres of land beyond it. “It’s all yours, you know,” she said. “You are responsible for it. For us. And you promised when Father died—”
“I know.” I squirmed enough that Kit stirred from sleep and turned his head to blink up at me. My smile was weak, but I hoped he was drowsy enough not to notice as I eased him upright.
“Bedtime, darling,” I said.
Kit stretched and stood from the couch, moving slowly with me close behind him.
Sayla rose, as well. I heard the disapproval in her tone when she called after me.
“Penny…”
“We’ll figure something out.” I repeated her assurance from earlier, though I found it no more comforting than before. Placing a guiding hand on Kit’s back, I turned to hide my grimace as I muttered, “I’ll figure it out.”