Chapter 17 Kit
Kit
It was cowardly to run from conversations I didn’t want to have, and this made twice in one morning.
The prospect of confronting Levitt with what Nora told me was daunting enough without also admitting to Penny that I was afraid to get used to not sleeping alone.
I enjoyed and wanted it as much as he did, but there was still that small, insistent voice in the back of my head reminding me that the people who loved me had a habit of leaving.
Despite knowing it was unfair to take those worries out on Penny, I couldn’t bring myself to agree to any of it.
I hadn’t wanted to agree to the dinner with Violette either, but denying her would have invited trouble. Gods knew Penny and I already had more than our share of that. I’d figure out a way to make it up to him eventually.
When I arrived in front of Levitt’s office door in the Ossuary, Merrick’s stood wide open across the hall.
His space looked a lot like Levitt’s, with full bookshelves along the walls and a desk in the center.
But the fireplace was cold and empty, and the Shroud Warden was nowhere to be seen, which I counted as a blessing.
The Right Hand’s door opened, releasing a wave of tantalizing warmth from the fire burning within. Levitt’s face was more drawn than usual as he waved me inside.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said as he leaned against the edge of his desk.
I made my way to the fireplace to warm my hands as an excuse to not have to face him directly.
“To be honest, I’d rather not be.”
Levitt heaved a breath. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Kit. Truly.”
It would have been easier if the raid on our house was the cause of the weight compressing my chest. I could be angry, shout him down, or demand some kind of recompense for the repeated invasions of our privacy.
Instead, hurt chased away any sense of indignation and left me feeling as breathless as Penny had been that night in the graveyard.
“This isn’t about yesterday.” I struggled to get the words out of a throat that felt suddenly tight. “This is about thirteen years ago.”
Levitt was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure I get your meaning.”
“You followed me to the mission. You knew where to find me, but you didn’t. You came back here and went on with your life like you didn’t beg on your knees for that knowledge.”
The silence that filled the room made my skin prickle with discomfort.
He didn’t say a word when I turned to face him, just stared at the stump of his right wrist and traced the puckered scar there with the fingertips of his left hand.
“How long have you known?” he asked after a moment.
It was as good as a confession. He at least had the decency not to deny it. I wasn’t sure I could have handled it if he had, but the fact that he was so quick to apologize for the raid on our house but not for this stung.
“Since I took Penny to the mission outside Emberstead,” I replied.
Levitt scowled. “Running away again?”
I caught myself and schooled my tone into one of strained patience as I answered. “You know better than that.”
When he looked up at me, there was hurt in his face that I didn’t expect.
“Do I?” he asked. “Because I thought you wouldn’t leave without me back then, but you did. We were supposed to go together, but you left me behind, Kit.”
Anger flared in my gut, hot enough to momentarily overwhelm everything else.
“That was the agreement! I was afraid for my life! I saw a chance to slip out unnoticed, and I didn’t know if I’d ever get another.
” I gestured at him. “You were never under the scrutiny that I was. You had a better chance to get out without me than you ever did with me.”
My own hurt swelled again as the spark died back.
“I did what we agreed to do. You were the only other person who knew about the mission. You knew where to go, and clearly you went. What I don’t understand is why you stopped there and didn’t go any further.
Why you left me out there on my own hoping and praying you’d show up someday.
Why you told Nora that you loved me, but you couldn’t ever bear to tell me.
Not then and not now. I had to find out from her. ”
Levitt faced away from me. He braced his hand on the top of his desk and curled his other arm across his middle.
“I thought I was keeping you safe,” he muttered. “Or that I would be a reminder of things you preferred to forget.”
The entire notion was absurd. I couldn’t leave Ashpoint without a chaperone after my first escape attempt, but he could.
The second Oath had been a solitary endeavor back then.
If he’d gone to the mission while out looking for his body, he would have been alone, and it would have been assumed that he’d been arrested if he never came back.
There was no safer time for him to slip away.
But his words felt familiar, and I wondered how many times I’d said almost the same thing to Penny. All my secrets and my careful guarding of information and making decisions about what I thought would protect him were exactly what I was angry at Levitt for.
Levitt and I were similar, both damaged by having grown up in the cult and in my father’s ominous shadow.
If things had been different and Levitt had allowed me the choice, I would have welcomed him on my escape without a second thought.
I would have given him all of me, because back then, he was the only one who made me feel safe, cared for, and valued.
He knew all the dark parts of me, and he loved me in spite of them.
Maybe I’d loved him too. Maybe we could have been happy together, far from Ashpoint and everything vile it stood for.
But he took that chance away from me, and I couldn’t help but worry I was doing the same to Penny. If I didn’t stop putting the onus of his safety solely on myself, if I didn’t start including him in my decisions, I could lose what was likely the best thing to ever happen to me.
I crossed to the desk and leaned against it beside Levitt with my arms crossed over my chest. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye but didn’t speak.
“That should have been my choice to make, not yours,” I said. “I would have taken that risk. I would have been glad to have you then.”
Levitt let out a rush of breath. “But not now.”
“Things are different now.”
He gave a humorless chuckle, and a faint smile curled his lips. “Penny made that quite clear last night.”
“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have done that. I’d have preferred to tell you myself.”
I hadn’t intended to tell him about any of this until Penny forced my hand, but I didn’t divulge that. He already looked wounded enough.
Levitt turned to face out into the room again, leaning against the desk near enough to me that our shoulders touched. Several times he opened his mouth to speak only to close it again.
“Don’t hold back on me now,” I said.
“I will admit,” he started softly, “I had hoped we could have built something now that you’re back.
But I realized last night that I’m too late.
All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I see how happy Penny makes you.
I don’t ever remember you smiling half as much around me when we were young as you do around Penny.
I should have realized sooner that he’s more than your recruit. ”
“More and more all the time,” I said.
Levitt’s smile was bittersweet. “That will have to be enough for me.”
Any acknowledgement I could have given to that sentiment felt cruel, so I tried instead to get us back on track.
“This needs to stay between us,” I said. “Please. Reimond and Thoma are the only other people who know, and we want to keep it that way. Given Merrick’s ire at the two of us, it feels unwise to be open about our relationship.”
Levitt dipped his head. “Of course. But you know things are different now than they were when you were here last. You're allowed to have a life and care for someone, and you should if that's what you want. But I understand.” He pushed away from the desk and went around behind it to settle in his chair. “Speaking of Merrick. About yesterday…”
I waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not so naive as to think it was personal.
Not on your account, anyway. I know you have to be careful about any appearances of favoritism, and you have to take action on the accusations brought before you.
I’m not happy about it, but I understand.
And it’s not like Harlan’s claims were completely unfounded. ”
Levitt’s brows shot up. “You’re saying you did take hemlock from him?”
Lying to him now was uncomfortable after so much honesty, and I paced to the windows and back to burn off nervous energy as I answered.
“He and my father gave it to me for years when I was younger. Not enough to kill me, but enough to build up my tolerance so I wouldn’t disgrace my father by dying during my third Oath.
Gods forbid if he wasn’t the one to end me himself. ”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I shrugged, wishing it would alleviate the tension binding up my neck and shoulders.
“How could you? I never said anything, but I should have.” Yet another decision that might have changed everything.
If someone else had been privy to my father’s willingness to break the rules when it suited him, maybe he would have been forced out, and I could have been free of him sooner.
“Regardless,” I said, ready to move on, “that’s probably where they got the idea to accuse me of doing it again.”
“When did your father start giving it to you?” Levitt asked.
“When I was fourteen. After he found out I’d been to the mission for my hand.”
Levitt sat up in his chair and propped his elbows on the desktop. “Why were you at the mission? This time I mean.”
The night at the graveyard was a blur of aching muscles, bruised palms, and blistered fingers, but I remembered every moment of watching Penny fade and my desperation to get him somewhere safe.
“Penny was sick when we left here,” I explained, “and he got worse out on the road in the cold. He passed out when we were digging up the grave, and there was nowhere else to go for help. I wasn’t about to let him die out there. It was worth the risk, and I would do it again.”
Levitt made a soft noise, and when I chanced a look at him, he was smiling. “That’s one of the many things I loved about you,” he said. “People were always more important to you than the Bone Men.”
I scoffed and dropped into one of the armchairs in front of the windows. “There were a lot of things back then that were more important to me than this place.” There still were, now.
He chuckled. “Penny is lucky to have you.” His smile faded, and his brows drew down again. “Though I worry it might be hard on you if he's gone half the year working the farm and you're here tending to your duties as Shroud Warden.”
“I'm sure we’ll make it work,” I said. With any luck, this would all be over long before spring planting and it wouldn’t be a concern at all.
Levitt nodded. “I’ll figure something out when it comes time for that. I wouldn’t have you make the kinds of sacrifices I did.” That sad smile was back again. “I don’t want you to share in my regrets.”
I wouldn’t. I owed Penny apologies for many things, and I wasn’t too proud to throw myself on his mercy. And then, if I was lucky, there would be time for a nap before tonight’s family dinner.