Chapter Nineteen Kit #3
“True,” I command, patting Idris’s chest. True eagerly flops down over Idris, whining and wagging his tail. I fold back the collar of Idris’s shirt and place all five fingers of my left hand on his bare collarbone. My face burns, but I ignore the men watching.
I brace for that crack to open in my mind—that war between what I want and what the feral part of me considers safe—as it did last time I touched him like this.
But my heart continues steadily. Breathing doesn’t hurt.
Something in me has changed and I feel …
all right. Beautifully, miraculously all right.
I adjust my fingers, taking in the cool feel of his skin, and close my eyes. I imagine a clearing in a forest, and I tap my own rhythm in defiance of the Hidden Folk’s music. A march like the woodpecker’s beat.
“You’ll be all right, Idris,” I whisper as I tap, tap, tap. “It’s safe to come back.”
It takes a moment. Then he blinks, eyes unfocused.
My breath whooshes free in relief. At the sound his gaze flicks to me. Before memory or reason has cleared the fog in his eyes, he smiles—natural and nearly sleepy, as if I were the very thing he most wanted to see. I smile back, my hand resting on his chest.
“Idris?” King Hugh asks.
As I shift back to give them space, a hand clamps on my shoulder. And I know it without looking—know its shape and heaviness and grip.
Byrne tugs me away, and I struggle to my feet. Abram glances from Idris to me, clearly unsure where to place his worry. King Hugh is speaking softly, his gaze fixed on his son, but I cannot make out the words.
“I’m glad you’re here, Kit,” Byrne tells me.
I steel myself and face him. His nose is swollen where I rammed my head into it earlier, and given a little more time I think he might develop a black eye.
He has the nerve to smile, gently as if we were two friends in on a secret. “I wanted to speak with you.”
“What could you possibly have to say to me?” My voice comes out hoarse. I wonder, fleetingly, whether he might apologize. Whether I could forgive him, even in a hundred years, much less in this moment.
“Catharine obviously thinks she saw something misleading,” he says, dropping his volume.
I almost snort. I had no need to worry about the ethics of forgiveness—he will never ask.
“I want you to assure her that everything is well between us,” he goes on. “Nothing must get in the way of these arrangements, you see. No … unpleasant rumors.”
“Catharine knows the truth, Your Majesty,” I say coldly. “I cannot make her unknow it.”
Byrne frowns. “Catharine would believe what you tell her. If you’ve said something to make her think the worst …”
“Catharine believes what she saw,” I hiss. “Though I should have told her a long, long time ago.”
Byrne’s gaze hardens.
“You’ve hidden in my silence long enough.” I pull myself up straight and am surprised to find courage rising as I do. “I won’t take ownership for what you’ve done. It isn’t my fault.”
“If people hear stories from you, it will ruin your family.” He steps closer to me. “Your mother, your sister, and even me—your father.”
“Oh?” I tilt my head. “I believe you told me you do not want me as a daughter.”
With an oath, Byrne lunges for me. But before he can strike, Abram has caught him by one arm—and Idris has caught the other.
I stumble back, surprised by the violence in Byrne’s expression—and equally surprised that he has been stopped.
True jumps in front of me, hackles raised.
Idris hardly seems well enough to stand, but he glances at me with bright awareness.
Byrne relaxes back, giving the princes an apologetic look. “Sorry, lads—not sure what you think is happening, but there is no need to restrain me.”
King Hugh steps to my side. “Are you all right, Kit?”
“Yes, thank you,” I say, glancing from the king to his sons.
“Tell them that there’s no need for this,” Byrne says, trying to shake Abram off. “Tell them it’s only a family matter.”
“You and I are not family. We are nothing to each other.” I lift my chin.
“And as far as I am concerned, after tonight we will never speak again. But I will tell you I am here partially for the sake of your child. The babe my mother bears has been promised to the Hidden Folk. I mean to dissolve that deal. I won’t let your sins—or my mother’s—steal another life. ”
Byrne blinks in surprise. Idris passes a hand over his face, the wan exhaustion leaching him of color again.
King Hugh’s expression hardens. “This is ridiculous,” he snaps. He turns and walks toward the tunnel that connects the cove to the Hidden Lands. “I am done letting children pay for our mistakes.”
“Father?” Idris lets go of Byrne and stumbles after him.
Abram hesitates but releases my stepfather at my signal. I hold my bag close to my side, feeling the weight of the skin within. True joins me, and we walk with Abram toward the entrance.
“You will ruin everything,” Byrne hisses after me.
“Look to your own house,” I reply over my shoulder. “I will look to mine.”