Chapter 25 Kit #2
Rosie giggled and pointed down at the brown tabby gnawing at the ends of my boot laces. “The troublemaker, of course.”
“I should’ve guessed.” It was a relief when she returned my grin. “If it’s all right with you, I’d be happy to take the two of them. Just… don’t tell Penny? I’d like it to be a surprise.”
She nodded. “I won’t tell a soul.”
The sunlight slanting in the windows was turning gold, and I reluctantly relocated the kitten to the cushion beside me as I pushed up to my feet.
“I need to be getting back. Still have to get something going for supper.” I scooped up the brown tabby and passed her to Rosie.
“Whenever you’re ready, I know Penny would like to see you. ”
She dropped her eyes as she tucked the kitten against her chest.
I was almost to the door when she spoke and drew me up short.
“It’s almost time for the third Oath.” She was looking up at me again when I glanced back at her. “Take care of Penny, okay?”
A lump of emotion clogged my throat. She had no way to know how big an ask that was in light of Penny's reaction to the small doses of hemlock I’d already given him. I’d managed to put the fear of losing him out of my mind for a while, but it surged back in again, and it was all I could do to nod.
I would do whatever it took to make sure Penny survived.
Chapter 26 – Penny
Otis and Isla, the last initiate pair, returned nearly a month after Kit and I got back. From the smithy, we observed the fanfare as the townspeople flocked to greet and congratulate the recruits’ successful endeavor.
I watched longer than Kit did and found myself thinking bitterly of my father’s remains being viewed as such a prize.
The longer I was away from home, the more I missed it. I worried about Mother and Sayla and the state of things on the farm. The novelty of new places and people had distracted me from the responsibilities I’d left behind, but the announcement of the third Oath presented a fear I could not ignore.
I’d almost died from small doses of hemlock.
Passed out in another man’s grave and been warned by the Symbiarch at the mission that I had no constitution for the stuff.
Imagining the larger dose soon to be administered kept me awake in the nights leading up to the ritual, and that night was no exception.
I lay in my bed wrapped in blankets that should have kept me warm, but dread chilled me through.
It was all I could do to hold still and breathe, remembering how impossible such a simple thing had been after the poison contaminated my body.
I’d left my mother and sister with the promise to return a better man.
It never occurred to me that I may not return at all.
A folded piece of paper rested on the table beside my bed.
I reached over and grabbed it, wanting to crumple it but settling to hold it instead, pressing the creases until they were sharp.
I’d written it on a prior sleepless night while wishing I didn’t have to.
But considering the danger ahead, I couldn’t afford not to take precautions.
I meant to wait until morning to talk to Kit. It must have been past midnight since I’d been turning restlessly for hours, but the idea of passing the rest of the night in lonely quiet was unbearable.
Reluctant but desperate, I crawled out of bed, rubbing one hand over my bare chest and arms as I padded toward the door. The paper remained pinned between my fingers, and I brushed my thumb over it as I stepped out into the hall.
The whole house was dark. Even the fire was down to dim embers, making it difficult to see Kit’s form scrunched on the sofa.
He was a bit too tall to stretch out on it, always hanging off by one arm or leg or with his knees bent against the back cushions.
I stopped a few feet away, hesitant to rouse him.
Luckily, I didn’t have to, because after barely a moment, he bolted upright and huffed a breath. “Pen? You startled me. Is something wrong?”
I tried to speak, then swallowed and tried again.
Neither attempt yielded anything that could be considered words as Kit shifted to sitting.
In the blue-black light, his eyes had the faintest gleam as they skimmed over my exposed torso.
I would have appreciated his notice any other time, but now it only made me feel more conspicuous.
Nodding toward the couch, I croaked out, “Mind if I sit?”
He shook his head and patted the lumpy cushion beside him.
I took the offered seat, perching stiffly and wishing I could crawl into Kit’s lap instead. But this needed to be said, explained, and if I let myself be weak before I even began, I might never find my strength again.
With my elbows on my knees, I offered the note to Kit. “I want you to have this,” I said.
“What is it?” He squinted at it briefly before rising and going to the shelves beside the fireplace. After striking a match to a candle stored there, he carried the paper and small flame back to the couch.
I kept quiet as he set the candle on the low table, then opened the page and smoothed it against his thigh. The flickering light cast a glow on his face as he skimmed the lines squeezed in between drawings of leafy trees and nesting birds.
“I ran out of paper,” I explained sheepishly.
Kit’s expression turned solemn as he read my best effort at a formal contract, signed at the bottom in an unsteady hand.
“Father left the farm to me when he died.” My voice wavered, threatened to crack. “And I’d like to leave it to you.”
He read it again, maybe twice more, and his jaw worked as he considered his reply. When he looked at me at last, his features were pinched.
“Penny, I can’t accept this,” he said. “What about your mother and Sayla?”
Tears threatened, and I clenched my fists as though I could physically fight them off. “If I’m your family, maybe they can be too?”
His brow furrowed deeper, and he looked at the letter again.
It was a lot to ask. Kit had his own home and occupation in Forstford.
He had a life there, one I imagined he was eager to return to when this was all over.
But I couldn’t shake the memory of our day spent checking items off Mother’s list and how naturally Kit had taken to the duties I so often struggled with.
He would thrive on the farm and make more of it than I ever could, or at least keep the plow blades in fine repair.
“You could sell it if you wanted to.” I talked to fill the quiet, going over the details I’d mentally rehearsed.
“Sayla’s likely to wed the silversmith’s son soon.
He’s quite taken with her. That would only leave Mother…
” I wrung my hands. “The farm should be worth enough to afford her lodging elsewhere. She could have a comfortable life.”
Kit sat still for another lingering moment, then refolded the paper and set it on the table beside the candle. Turning toward me, he took hold of both my arms and tugged me around until I faced him squarely.
“Pen, where is this all coming from?”
I swallowed while searching for words. I’d managed to put my fears aside for days, flirting with Kit in the smithy, cuddling together in the evenings, making meals and spending time like we were a married couple with a quiet, normal life.
I’d gotten quite good at pretending I was living in the future, in a time removed from the Bone Men and the initiation rites that threatened our lives.
But I couldn’t hide from it now.
“The poison. The Oath tomorrow.” I drew a steadying breath. “I…”
No sooner did I have a hold on my apprehension than did it grip me instead, cinching like a noose around my throat. I remembered that feeling, going lightheaded and suffocating while the hemlock coursed through my body. It could happen again. I was near certain it would.
“I’m afraid, Kit. Nora said I shouldn’t… We were only taking a little bit, but…” My eyes flooded with useless tears that wouldn’t solve anything. “I couldn’t breathe. I thought I would die. I think it might kill me, and then…” I hiccupped a breath. “And then…”
Kit slid his hand around the nape of my neck, brushing his thumb through my hair. He shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said. “I promise.”
Of course, he would say that. He would protect me from the world if he could, but there was little he could do to stave off the effects of a deadly poison.
I wiped my face and set my expression as sternly as I could manage. “But will you take care of Mother and Sayla? If I…” My throat tightened again, and I gathered my resolve to force out, “If something happens?”
Kit dipped his chin in a solemn nod, and it felt as though a weight lifted off me.
“Of course,” he said. “But, Pen…”
I shook my head to silence him. That was all I needed to hear. I didn’t want to talk or even think about that vile green poison and the havoc it could wreak. I was happier pretending we were in a different time and place for one more night.
Scooting closer, I dipped in to kiss him. His lips were soft and warm, and his fingers pressed into the back of my neck. I reached for him, then, threading my arms around his back and pulling myself into his lap where I’d wanted to be all along.
I kissed him again and again. Up his jaw and over his ear where I nosed into his curls.
His other hand roamed across my bare back, skating along my ribs and dragging nails over my skin. I shivered and surged closer. My knees settled on either side of his thighs, straddling his lap so I could roll my hips into his while I covered him in kisses.
Kit’s chest fluttered with unsteady breaths.
I wanted to feel him closer still, so I fumbled to the hem of his shirt and gave a tug.
He released me and raised his arms to let me strip the garment off and throw it aside.
The heat of his skin seemed almost scorching as I wrapped him in an embrace, feathering my lips across his shoulders and up the front of his throat as his head lolled back.