Chapter 27 Kit
Kit
Iwasn't sure whether it was my aching neck and hips that woke me the next morning, or the fact that I was overly warm with Penny pressed against me and the blanket tucked around us both. After our shared bath—which had been a more pleasant experience than I was expecting, even with the tight squeeze in our small tub—Penny had bypassed his room to rejoin me on the couch for the remainder of the night. At some point after that, we’d shifted so my head was resting on the arm at an odd angle, my knees were bent, and Penny was curled into a ball tucked tight against my bare chest. It was a squeeze to fit both of us on the seat cushions, and I was impressed that he hadn’t rolled off.
Despite being so warm, I tightened my hold on him and adjusted to alleviate the crick in my neck and bury my nose in his hair.
Memories of the night before filtered in, and yet more heat flushed my face and forced me to shift my hips away as my body responded.
I still wasn’t sure where I’d found the courage to pursue the kind of pleasure Penny had been after for weeks, but I was glad I had.
I needed that sort of connection, and so did he.
A respite from the anxiety and fear that had been lurking in the backs of our minds since Emberstead.
It was still early judging by the faint glow of dawn peeking in around the curtains.
In a few short hours, the third Oath loomed, dark and ominous enough to chase away all better thoughts.
I was still so tired, but now that my mind was churning, it was unlikely I’d manage any more sleep, so I got as comfortable as I could.
At least Penny seemed to be resting peacefully.
I dragged my fingers along his back, mapping every inch of bare skin before coming to a stop between his shoulders. He hummed in his sleep and arched into the touch. With his head tucked beneath my chin, his breath tickled my neck as he sighed in contentment.
My eyes settled on the folded piece of paper beside the melted remains of the candle on the table. I marveled at how much Penny must have trusted me to sign over the farm and ask me to take care of his mother and sister. The family he apparently wanted to be mine, too.
In spite of the offer coming on the heels of his fear that he wouldn’t survive the third Oath, I couldn’t deny that I liked the idea.
When we’d visited them, I’d been jealous of their closeness and the easy affection they’d shared, and I’d have given almost anything not to feel like an outsider there.
It had been nice being on a farm again. I enjoyed the solitude of the forge most days, though less now that I was used to Penny’s constant presence there, but on a farm was the closest I’d ever gotten to having family after I left my father behind.
I didn’t have many fond memories, but what few I did have were tied to tending fields and caring for livestock.
The Olivers were the sort of family I’d always wanted, and I could be useful to them.
But I couldn’t take Penny’s place. It wouldn’t be the same if he wasn’t there, and I wasn’t sure there was a place in his family for me without him.
Who else would take their blame for his death but me?
I’d told him I’d look after them, and I intended to keep my word, even if it was just to ensure things could run smoothly without my presence.
I doubted they’d want to have look at me and be reminded of what they lost.
But none of that bore thinking about. Penny would live. He would take back the deed, and that would be that. I refused to believe anything different.
I was dozing lightly again by the time he stirred an hour later. His arm crept around my waist as he unfolded to stretch his legs over mine, as reluctant to move as I was.
“Morning,” I murmured.
“Already?” he asked through a yawn, burying his face against my shoulder to block out the dim light in the room. “I don’t want it to be morning yet.”
I chuckled. “Unfortunately, it’s outside my power to push back sunrise.”
He huffed and snuggled closer. “Are you sure?”
If I could have, I’d have paused time and delayed the third Oath indefinitely. Already, dread was sinking in my stomach, heavy as a stone.
“Positive,” I said. “I’m not ready for today either.”
He lifted his head long enough to peek at the light creeping in beneath the curtains, then burrowed back in. “It’s early still. We can pretend it’s not today for a little while longer.”
I pressed a kiss into his hair. In response, he trailed his lips across my shoulder, making me squirm. Heat spread from that point of contact until every inch of me felt hot enough to catch fire.
“Pen,” I murmured.
He shifted again so we were laying chest to chest and face to face, sharing the same air.
“Darling,” he said, his voice rolling over me like warm honey.
My breath hitched when I remembered his comments the night before, the first time he’d called me that.
I’d never been anyone’s darling before, and certainly no one had ever told me I was perfect.
It took all my resolve not to dismiss the comments outright, far more accustomed to hearing all my negative qualities and never the positives.
But the way Penny looked at me when he said them, said I was perfect for him…
His sincerity was almost enough to make me believe it.
I cupped the back of his head in my palm and urged him down until his lips met mine.
I hoped the sweet, tender kisses we shared communicated all the things I wasn’t sure how to say.
That he was my darling, and that I didn’t think there would ever be anyone else who could make me feel the things he made me feel.
That I never wanted anyone else to touch me as long as I lived if it wasn’t him.
A knock on the door made us both jump. Penny groaned and peeled himself away, freeing me to swing my legs over the edge of the couch and sit up.
He settled on the cushion beside me, subtly adjusting himself in his trousers.
I couldn’t help a smirk and stole a fleeting kiss before I crossed to the door.
A blast of frigid air swept into the living room when I pulled it open to reveal a hooded messenger on the stoop.
The world outside was blinding; at least three inches of snow blanketed everything, with more falling lazily from the low gray clouds.
If not for knowing what was to come, that this messenger was an omen of the uncertainty that we may not live to see tomorrow’s sunrise, it might have seemed peaceful.
I didn’t have a chance to greet the woman on the stoop before she spoke.
“Be on your guard. The Death Watch will come with the Shroud Warden, and you will undertake the third Oath this day before sundown.”
I glanced at where Penny perched on the couch, his mouth set in a grim line. “Before sundown” wasn’t exactly the timeline we expected to be given, nor did it tell us when to take the charcoal Nora had sent home with us.
“What time will they arrive?” I asked, dismayed when the hooded figure shook her head.
“Only the Shroud Warden knows the time.” She gestured between Penny and me. “It is not for you to know. You will wait in quiet contemplation, as is custom.” Without another word, she turned and trudged through the snow toward the center of town.
I barely had the door closed before Penny spoke.
“If we don’t know when they’re coming, we won’t know when to take the charcoal,” he said. “Nora said it should be taken first.”
I returned to the couch and tugged the blanket around both of our shoulders. “She also said we could take it afterwards if we had to,” I reminded him. “Within an hour. If we take it as soon as they leave, we should be fine.”
Penny chewed his lip. “What if Merrick gives us more than he’s supposed to? I’m sure he’d be happy to be rid of both of us.”
I laced my fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze. “The Shroud Warden may administer the poison, but the Sentinel is there to make sure he does it fairly. He won’t have the chance to sabotage us under their watch. Everyone gets the same amount.”
Penny took in a deep breath and let it out slow, like he was steeling himself against the worry I could feel already twisting my insides into knots.
“Well, probably best to do this on a full stomach,” he said, and flashed a smile that I almost believed. “I’ll make breakfast.” He pushed off the couch, and I let him take the blanket with him as he headed for the hall.
I was too anxious to feel hungry, but the familiar routine would be a comfort. So, I levered myself to my feet and followed.
Penny went to light the stove and peered out the back window at the drifted snow. When I came up behind him on my way to the kettle, he glanced back and offered a slightly more genuine smile. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re not needed in the smithy today.”
I chuckled. “Small blessings.”
Breakfast was a quiet affair, and neither of us ate much. Afterwards, Penny disappeared into his room to put on a shirt, then we both settled on the couch to nurse the last of the coffee.
I grew more antsy as the hours ticked by.
Lunch and dinner time came and went, and neither of us had enough of an appetite to bother cooking.
Snow continued to pile up outside, and there were several additional inches by the time the sun began to set and the dark figures of Merrick and one of the Sentinels appeared on our doorstep.
Penny followed me to the door with his face set in determination while I welcomed the two men inside.
“Good evening, initiates.” The Sentinel pushed back his snow-crusted hood.
I recognized him as Klaus, the same man who had administered our brands almost two months before and had then taken part in the raids of both the forge and our house.
He cradled a chalice between his hands, fashioned from the upper portion of a human skull and carved with an intricate rendering of Eeus’s mark.
The thought of drinking anything, poison or otherwise, from such a vessel made me feel sick.
Merrick brushed the snow from his cloak and looked almost smug as he swept his eyes over the two of us. From a pouch hanging off his belt, he removed a dropper bottle half full of that familiar, sickly green liquid, and motioned to the Sentinel.
“Klaus, if you will,” he said, unscrewing the top of the bottle.
The Sentinel stepped forward and nodded toward the floor. “Kneel, initiates.”
Penny flicked a glance at me as we both got to our knees, and I couldn’t tell if the resolve making his eyes hard was real or an act. But for once, it was me wishing I could tuck myself up close to him for whatever comfort he could offer.
Klaus’s voice pulled both of our attention back to him as he held the skull chalice aloft.
“Today, you will partake in the holy sacrament of Eeus, a baptism of suffering that binds your soul to his will.
As you drink, you willingly surrender to the shadows that the rest of the world tries to burn out.
“As the poison takes hold, let it sear away all that remains of your former self. It courses through your veins as a conduit to the heart of our god. This is but a herald of the trials that await; embrace the agony, for it is the currency with which you purchase favor from Eeus.”
Merrick emptied a full dropper of hemlock tea into the chalice, and the Sentinel held it out to me. I took it with hands much steadier than I felt.
“Today, you become a harbinger of dark times,” Klaus continued, “a living testament to the potency and blessing of pain. Repeat after me.
“I offer my mortal vessel unto Eeus’s dominion. Let this act be a catalyst for my transcendence and a testament to my faith in him. If I should crumble into the abyss, may I become a shadowy sentinel, bound to Eeus in eternal loyalty.”
I stumbled through the recitation, then put the base of the skull to my lips and swallowed its contents as quickly as I could. I fought the reflexive gag at the bitter taste and handed the chalice back.
Merrick added the next dose, and Klaus spoke the words of the Oath again for Penny, who parroted them back perfectly. He paused with the skull partway to his lips, and his eyes met mine.
It was like watching him receive the brand all over again, though with potentially deadly consequences.
I’d encouraged him to keep going then. Here, now, I wanted to do the opposite.
I wanted him to refuse the hemlock, to not risk taking such a large dose at once when a few drops had done so much damage.
He’d told me he’d follow me anywhere, but I couldn’t let him this time. Not here. Not to his death.
We could run. I could knock out Merrick and Klaus and take Penny and disappear.
Maybe we couldn’t go back to Forstford or Eastcliff, but there were other places we could go.
Towns I’d been to when I was younger, where Penny and I could be happy and safe.
Nora had been right: taking down the Bone Men wasn’t my responsibility.
I’d done enough. I’d given enough. And they had already taken more than I was willing to let them have.
They wouldn’t take Penny from me, too.
I was ready to knock the chalice out of Penny’s hands, but he tipped it back and swallowed before I could even move.