36. Penny
Penny
M y boots pounded the dusty ground as I chased Merrick into the square.
His robes flowed out behind him, still jarring after having only seen him in trousers and tunics working the fields back home.
He was an entirely different man here. Shades of my older brother remained, but without our father’s influence, Merrick had become something else.
Instead of growing, he’d shrunk, boiled down into the most bitter, spiteful parts of himself.
I hardly recognized him.
He must have known I was following because he sped up, walking fast with his head high and eyes fixed ahead. He was making rapid progress back toward the Ossuary, scurrying away from the wreck he’d made of Kit’s shop.
“Merrick!” I shouted after him, my voice gruff with simmering rage.
His stride faltered, and his hands fisted at his sides as his pace slowed.
My hands were clenched, too. They hadn’t relaxed since I’d stood beside Kit in the smithy and watched Merrick’s lackeys toss the place on false charges. He always said I spent too much time dreaming, imagining. Now, he was the one making up stories.
I called my brother’s name again, so loudly the passing townsfolk stopped to stare. This time he didn’t revel in drawing their attention, and his steps grew heavier. I’d closed on him, nearly to his turned back when he whirled around with ire in his green eyes.
“Whatever grievances you have to air can be brought to my chambers in the Ossuary,” he hissed. “In private .”
“You didn’t give Kit the benefit of privacy.” I swung my arm toward the blacksmith stall and the strangers gawking from afar. “Didn’t go to him to air your grievances. Instead, you made a godsdamned spectacle, and I think I will, too.”
I set my stance, well within striking range if he decided to raise a hand to me. I half hoped he would. It would show these people another side of his nature, then maybe they wouldn’t think so highly of their pompous Shroud Warden.
He did reach toward me, and I flinched as he grabbed the collar of my shirt. He started walking again, this time toward a shaded alley between shops, and dragged me along behind.
“I have earned a position of respect in this place, and you will give me my due,” he said through gritted teeth. “Our familial bond does not exempt you from propriety.”
Stumbling and struggling, I followed him into the narrow space where he gave a shove that nearly sent me headlong into the nearest wall.
I staggered again, barely catching myself on the wood-paneled exterior of the neighboring shop.
I spun around to find Merrick practically on top of me.
He planted his palm in the middle of my chest and drove me backward until I slammed into the wall, striking shoulder blades first and skull immediately after.
Pain bloomed where his fingers caught the edge of my brand, and stars flashed at the edges of my vision.
I sucked a breath to yell at him, but his other hand plunged into my gut, driving out air in a grunt.
I doubled over, hugging my arms around my middle while he pressed impossibly close, forcing me upright.
I wheezed as he pinned me, his chest against mine, sparking yet more pain as Kit’s borrowed shirt ground fully into my newly burned flesh.
His face hovered beside my ear as he spoke.
“Whatever you have to say, Penwell, I suggest you keep it to yourself. I do not abide those who challenge my authority. Doing so will only make things worse for you and your friend .” He sneered the last word, and I squirmed, finally getting my hands up to shove him away.
“Don’t bring Kit into this!” I exclaimed. “It isn’t about him. It’s about the farm, and we both know it.”
Merrick backed a single step, then dusted his palms together. The gesture felt almost symbolic. “I abandoned the farm and everything that came with it. You, your sister, your whore mother…”
Heat surged like fire up my spine. “How dare you call her that! She raised you!”
The fire spread through me, making my fine hairs stand on end and causing sweat to break out all over my body. This was overdue. Since he’d cowed me in the stairwell in the Ossuary and denied knowing me to Levitt, since he’d stolen our father’s body and left me to shoulder the blame.
“And you didn’t abandon the farm,” I continued. “You demanded it! Nearly drove Father to an earlier grave over it. Because you wanted it for this.” My motion toward the city square beyond the mouth of the alley made him snort. “You would have given them everything.”
He had already given too much. Things that weren’t his to take or share. How far would it have gone if I hadn’t intervened?
“Because it should have been mine!” he snapped. “Everything you have should have been mine, and I cannot begin to say how much it galled me to see you turn up here, trying to steal this, too.”
“How did I steal from you?” I barked back. “I didn’t want the farm. I don’t want this. I came for Father. That’s all.”
“Then why didn’t you leave? I told you he was gone. I gave him to Eeus.”
He puffed inside his clothes like a preening bird. He was proud, and the thought made me shudder. We were raised in the same home with the same values and beliefs. How could he see things so differently? Did he truly believe he’d done something noble? Honorable? Surely not.
My voice dropped to a growl. “You defiled his body and dishonored his legacy.”
Merrick lunged at me again. “I am his legacy, you dunce!”
I didn’t mean to wince or shrink away, but the angrier he got—purple-faced now and looming larger than he really was—the more my fear grew with him. It stole my conviction so it was barely a mumble when I said, “We both are.”
There was venom in my brother’s glare. A predatory glint I knew too well. My stomach ached from his punch, my chest burned, and tears welled in my eyes. I shook myself, trying to rally my fleeting courage as Merrick raged on.
“You were his mistake. All of you were. We were fine, he and I, before you came along. You’re a scourge.” He jabbed a finger into the center of my chest, pushing me back. “Should have never been born.”
“That’s enough.”
I recognized Kit’s voice, but the icy tone was far from conversational. I glanced toward the end of the alley and found him standing as a silhouette, as bristled as Merrick but far brawnier. The sight brought such immediate relief that I sighed.
“There he is.” Merrick snorted. “Your champion.” He turned toward Kit’s approach. “Have you something to add, Mister Koesters? Or perhaps you’ve come to confess and save yourself the shame of being caught out on your seditious intentions.”
Kit stalked forward, his posture rigid. As he neared, his features became clear. They were set as hard as stone, and his dark eyes were narrow. “I did want to confess something, actually,” he said.
Merrick huffed a laugh, casual in contrast to Kit’s glare. “Very good. One of the two of you was bound to have some sense. Come out with it, then. Tell me now, then we’ll take the whole thing to Levitt and decide an appropriate punishment.”
Kit stopped and reached to his belt, pulling out the knife he’d forged before we left Forstford. He raised it to the dim light so the blade glinted. “Since you were counting weapons, I thought you should know about this one. Feel free to add it to your tally.”
His grip on the hilt was tight, knuckles straining, and the way he refused to break eye contact with Merrick sent a very different message than his measured words.
I remembered the way he’d opened his door to me the day we first met.
The pose here was more relaxed with the dagger turned sideways so as not to suggest a threat, but he didn’t need the weapon to do that.
Merrick’s expression shifted to a scowl, and he rolled his eyes. “Well… Thank you, Mister Koesters. That’s very forthright of you.”
Kit dipped his head in a nod, then slid the dagger into its sheath. “I’ll be sure to inform you of any future orders that could be weaponized,” he told Merrick. “I have worked on a few axe heads. And a rather sharp hoe.”
As Kit spoke, I crept toward him, sliding down the wall and putting distance between myself and my brother.
“Don’t forget the sawblade, Kit.” A smile chased away the last of my fear as I crowded in beside him.
Kit tapped his chin, feigning contemplation. “You’re right, Pen.” He smiled too, though his was far more subdued. Then he fixed Merrick with a look. “Perhaps you would like to be kept abreast of all my orders going forward?”
Merrick’s chest swelled in his fanciful robes, ruffling his feathers for an entirely different reason. “That would be fine. Can’t be too careful, can we?”
Kit shook his head. “No, sir.”
I glanced over at Kit, and my stomach fluttered. I wanted to thank him for following me, for intervening, but that would have to wait until my brother wasn’t glowering and so visibly hot I wouldn’t have been surprised if steam started rising from his blond head.
As I relaxed, I’d stopped watching Merrick, but when he scoffed, it was clear he hadn’t given up watching me.
“I see it now,” he said, startling me out of my own thoughts.
I glanced over and found him squinting.
A slow grin spread across his face, full of malice and not mirth. “Of course.” His laugh jarred me. “I don’t know how I missed it before.”
“Missed what?” I asked.
Merrick flung his hand toward me. “That look on your face. You’re as hopeless as ever.” He chortled a laugh. “He isn’t your champion. You want him for a suitor.”
I recoiled from the truth I couldn’t deny.
Anders had seen it. Likely Rosie, too. I told Kit early on that I was no kind of liar, and I wore my feelings openly.
After too many nights lying in bed thinking of how cozy it would be to have Kit nestled beside me, a kiss that ended in explanations and apologies, and countless moments spent wanting to hold onto him or take his hand, I had nothing to show for it.