7. Penny
Penny
After trying and failing to cajole me into baking to pass the time, Rosie sat in the living area entertaining the kittens while I circled the room, feeling like a caged animal.
I’d felt that way the night before, too, peeking out the windows between bouts of restless sleep, watching the guards who lurked like vultures, waiting for the end.
An innocent man was dead. Not Kit or me, and while I was relieved by that, it didn’t alleviate my guilt.
The fur trader had been our ally, a potential friend, punished for a crime he didn’t commit.
I didn’t need to confer with Kit to know that Merrick was responsible for Levitt’s death.
He’d killed our father, and now the cult leader.
I was beginning to wonder what lines he wouldn’t cross.
What he wouldn’t do to reach the heights of his delusion. His grab at power.
He’d attained it, though. There was nowhere higher to climb, unless godhood was his next aim. And that may have been close enough to the truth. He wanted to command Eeus. Compel him. Control him. Puppeteering a god was not so different than being one.
And who would stop him?
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been waiting or how many times my boots had thumped against the floor before the door swung open and Kit strode in. He barely crossed the threshold before yanking the bone necklace off over his head and tugging at the collar of the Shroud Warden robes.
He stood there, face flushing as he struggled with the knot Anders had tied until I rushed to his side and took over the task. Kit looked at me, his dark eyes brimming with worry. He excelled at fretting, but this time he was right in his concern.
After picking at the string tie for a handful of seconds, I got it loose, and Kit shrugged out of the garment like it was a skin he was eager to shed. It piled on the ground, limp as a slain thing but far too alive with meaning. With intent.
Kit dropped the necklace on top of it, but I scooped them up and hung them on the rack inside the door. I wasn’t fond of the clothing or what it symbolized, but if Kit was expected to wear the damned thing, I wouldn’t have him wearing it rumpled and dusty.
“Hello, Rosie,” he said.
Rosie shooed the kittens away and stood. She frowned, and the light from the fireplace cast across her umber skin. “Kit, I—”
“It’s getting late,” he cut in. “I’ll walk you home.”
It was nearer midday than evening, but Rosie didn’t argue. She didn’t move, either, waiting in the pause that followed to see if Kit’s rational thoughts would catch up to his blind panic.
“Spread the word, would you?” He still wasn’t looking at Rosie or me or anything in particular. “To the others. No more meetings. No more recruiting. We need to lay low. I need to figure things out.”
Despite having offered to take her home, he made no move toward the exit. His gaze fixed on something not in this room. Not tangible at all. Like he could see the thoughts racing by and was trying to catch one.
“Tell everyone to stay in their homes,” he continued. “And don’t come to ours.”
I’d seen the look he gave her in the square. Practically begged her to bring me back here. And now he was dismissing her with the scarcest thanks. It wasn’t like him and, thankfully, she knew that. Knew him well enough not to let the dismissal offend her.
“Kit?” She stepped up to him and laid a hand on his arm.
It was what I should have done. Hugged him, held him, helped him cope with this, but I felt too like I was drowning, and I feared I would only drag him to the depths with me.
“Rosie.” He shrugged off her touch. His expression remained steely and his voice level when he met her eyes. “I appreciate everything you’ve done in our absence, but I’m afraid it ends here. I’m not willing to risk any more lives over this.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
A shuddering breath filled then fled his chest. He looked smaller without the robes around him.
I hadn’t realized the impact a piece of clothing could have.
Especially the piece of clothing I’d seen my half-brother parading around in for the last half-year.
Seeing that mantle pass onto Kit’s shoulders was chilling.
That had been the plan all along, but that didn’t make the reality of it any easier to stomach.
“Merrick is aware of our plan,” Kit explained. “He’s targeting the resistance and has made it clear he’s willing to murder anyone who strays into his path.”
He turned toward where I lingered near the cloak rack. Beside the door, as if I intended to slip out of here. Break out of this prison and take Kit with me.
“And he intends to start with you,” Kit said, startling me back into the conversation. Furrows cut into his brow with long, hard lines. Another deep breath left him. “I’ll be left alive to bear witness. As if I don’t already have enough ghosts to haunt me.”
Rosie stayed near him, similarly mired in thought and the feelings that pulled at my feet like a ship’s anchors. “He can’t do that,” she said at length.
Kit snorted. “Who will stop him?”
“We will!” Rosie retorted, but Kit came back just as determined.
“You’re missing the point.” He rounded on her. “Merrick holds all authority now. His word is law. He can order your death as it pleases him. Any of you. All of you.”
His throat bobbed with a rough swallow before he glanced at me again, almost apologetic. “I won’t allow it. Now, I’m taking you home.”
Spinning, he strode toward the door, past where I stood to tug it open and admit the harsh glare of daylight.
Rosie paused and looked from him to me. I skirted her glance while pinning my lower lip between my teeth.
My avoidance prompted her to make an aggravated sound, and she squared her shoulders. “I can walk myself.” She stormed toward the path Kit had cleared, then stopped between him and me.
“But, Kit?” She kept saying his name, pleading with him, and I realized, in this instance, she was the bravest of us.
Kit must have heard it, too. Respected it, even, because his features softened as he looked at her.
“For what it’s worth,” she said gently, “I think you should give the resistance members the chance to make their own decisions. We all know Cortland didn’t murder Levitt. Merrick is responsible, and I’ll be damned before I follow a man like that anywhere. Or fear him.”
He nodded slowly. “That would be fine if all they risked was themselves, but Merrick said he would begin his extermination with Penny, and I won’t…” Another skittish glance my way. Another pull of undertow. “Rosie, I believe him.”
“He’s been threatening my life for months,” I muttered. Less a defense and more statement of fact. “He’ll keep doing it as long as it works.”
Kit’s grip on the door handle went white knuckled. “And it will work until you’re dead,” he snapped.
“He won’t kill me, Kit,” I said. “Not as long as he can use me against you.”
Kit’s face contorted, and a shudder of something like disgust shook his body. “That’s the most absurd thing. You can’t know that.”
“I know my half-brother,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.
Kit kept hold of the door and leaned so we could talk around Rosie, who was uncomfortably caught in the middle. Emotions played across his face, muddling together into something ugly and frightened.
“And if you’re wrong, then I have to watch it.” He used his free hand to point at his chest for emphasis. “I have to live with it. It was bad enough watching when I was a child, when the victims were strangers to me. If I have to bear witness again, and it’s you…”
He blinked, long lashes closing over those dark eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was distant.
“I won’t survive it. You ask too much.”
He swayed on his feet with what must have been exhaustion. Between our long night at home and the morning’s gruesome display, we were deprived of both rest and peace.
I would have gone to him, then, but with Rosie still blocking the way, I could hold nothing but his gaze. “It’s a decision we should make together,” I said quietly.
Another blink, then his eyes cut away, toward the outside and the brightness and somewhere other than here. “Not today,” he murmured. “Maybe when I can’t so easily imagine you twitching in a pool of your own blood.”
My stomach twisted, and so did Rosie’s face before she cleared her throat.
“I’m going home.” She threw her arms around my neck for a brief hug. “I’ll see you in the market, Penny.”
She didn’t offer the same farewell to Kit, doubtless remembering how he’d shrugged her off earlier. She did look back, though, and squinted her concern.
I wasn’t sure Kit noticed before he closed the door.
After throwing the lock, Kit spun toward the kitchen. I stayed by the rack, no longer mired but not prepared to follow. Not prepared to face him. Not prepared to discuss this any further until I had more to offer than scarce reassurances and possibly misplaced faith in my half-brother.
He’d always said I was a fool.
It took courage to move. And concern for Kit. He’d stopped at the kitchen sink, bent forward with his arms braced on the countertop while he gazed out the back window.
I’d meant to clear the ground out there. Plant a garden. As it was, all that remained were the dead dregs of winter and a smattering of spring green.
The kettle was in the basin when I padded up behind him, clearly waiting to be filled. I would have pumped the water for him, but I didn’t get close enough before Kit spoke.
“Work at the Ossuary begins tomorrow. I’m expected to be there. Wearing those ridiculous clothes.” He tossed his head toward the living area and the rack where I’d hung the ceremonial garb.
I continued my approach until I stood beside him. Reaching over, I lifted the pump to start the water. Kit didn’t look down, or over, or at anything except the mostly barren expanse outside. It made my heart ache to see him so withdrawn. From me. From everything.
Once the kettle was full, I grabbed Kit’s hand and gave it a tug. His fingers twitched in mine before he stirred, slow to return from whatever dark place he’d wandered off to. He didn’t resist as I turned him to face me.
His features were still drawn tight, but I’d seen him soft.
I knew what lived under that wary silence and how bruised he’d been before I ever laid eyes on him.
Wounds that had never quite closed. And today had only torn them wider.
The names he’d add to his list now, the ones he’d carry like ghosts…
the ones he claimed haunted him already.
My fingers brushed a curl back from Kit’s forehead as I gazed up at him, trying to peek through the cracks in his emotional walls.
“I’m not saying it will be okay. But we’ll be together. I’ll be with you. And I’m not sorry I came back.”
“You won’t be with me all the time,” he replied. His voice was low, scraped raw. “I’m at Merrick’s disposal now. No longer in the forge. He’s assigned another man to take it over. I’m not sure who.”
“Oh…” The word slipped out before I could catch it, and I hated the way it sounded. Small and selfish.
“It shouldn’t change things too much,” Kit added. “You can carry on with your leatherworking. You may even impress him.”
I gave a breath of a laugh, dry and bitter. “When did this become about you comforting me?”
He shrugged. “Seemed like you needed it.”
I paused, looking up at him and seeing the shadows under his eyes and the stillness that was more than weariness. It was surrender, almost. Like he was already downed and waiting for the next blow.
I lifted my hands to his face and cradled his jaw between my palms. His skin was clammy and cool. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in, either.
“Kit…”
The shake of his head didn’t break my hold. “Not now, Pen. It’s too fresh. All of it. Please. Give me some time.”
I waited until he met my gaze to try again. “We can do this,” I said, low but firm. “We can… stop this.”
Kit huffed a breath. “Sounds like you need some time too. To make that argument even marginally convincing.”
The silence that followed stretched until it wore thin, and a hole tore straight through it. Kit’s eyes fell shut, and he drew a shaky breath. His shoulders shook with the effort of holding back, holding in.
“I caused this,” he whispered.
“No.” I stepped closer. “You didn’t. Merrick’s been plotting it for years. Since my father… since yours…”
“His doing, then,” Kit acquiesced. “And our undoing.”
My heart broke at the resignation in his voice.
“We can stop it,” I said again, softer this time.
Kit’s hand cupped the back of my neck as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. He lingered there, holding me while his breath ghosted across my skin.
Finally, his grip shifted to my waist. Not to draw me in, but simply to rest. I mirrored the gesture, looping my arms around his middle and pressing my palms flat against the small of his back.
Outside the window, the sky was brightly blue. It might have been cheerful, but inside the cottage was only gloom.
The next morning, he’d said, work began for us both.
Him at Merrick’s beck and call, and me under the tutelage of a new blacksmith.
Kit’s assurances were kind, but they didn’t hold much weight compared to my lack of skill in the smithy and my rekindled fear of fire.
I was dreading it already. Dreading so many things.
“We’ll take today,” I said, as much to myself as to him. “We’ll rest, and eat, and sleep. And tomorrow, when the sun rises, we’ll rise with it.”
Kit gave the faintest nod, and I felt him exhale against my temple. Not a sigh of relief—just the weary acknowledgment that yes, there would be a tomorrow.
And we would meet it.
Together.