I aimed a chagrined look at Thoma, fully expecting him to reciprocate, but he went pale instead.
“What?” he asked breathlessly. “Why?”
“Because Merrick is an unrepentant ass who wants everyone to be as miserable as he is,” I said.
“The fourth Oath has always been a group effort,” Kit cut in to explain. “Not something Anders could do alone. And pairing him with us very well could have been random, Pen.”
I scoffed. “My suffering isn’t random, Kit. It is planned and ordained by the Shroud Warden himself. His Eminence.” Idipped in a mocking bow, then dropped a scoop of vegetables onto my own plate.
Kit sighed again and flipped back the napkin covering on the breadbasket to reveal a pile of fluffy rolls. “Eminence is a title reserved for the Right Hand,” he corrected.
I squeezed past him to grab a roll and stuff it in my mouth before returning the skillet to the stovetop. “His pretentiousness, then,” I said with my mouth full. The cast iron settled with a clatter, and I joined the other two men at the table, dropping heavily into my chair.
“I don't think disparaging the Shroud Warden makes for appropriate dinner conversation.” Kit fixed me with a look, then flicked his eyes meaningfully toward Thoma, who remained stricken.
“I’ll only disparage him as my reluctant relation, then,” I quipped. “Surely I’m allowed to do that.”
Kit took his fork and knife to a chicken thigh and began cutting it free of the bone. “Better that you don't.”
Thoma had yet to touch his food. He sat stiff-backed in his seat and stared at his plate as though it were tainted.
I sopped up some of the juice puddled beneath the chicken with my roll and nibbled on it before dipping my head to catch his eyes. “Everything all right?”
A war of emotion waged on Thoma’s face. He looked reluctant to speak until he managed at last. “You need to be careful with Anders. He’s not a good man.”
The memory of the lumberman taunting Thoma in the square with Reimond’s bloody heart was a visceral one. If it haunted me, it must have been a constant nightmare for Thoma. I set my roll on my plate and scooted my chair closer to Kit’s, hooking one hand around his knee.
“We’ll be careful,” Kit told Thoma. “And glad to be done with him as soon as possible.”
Thoma shifted in his seat while dodging Kit’s gaze. “Just… don’t expect his help. With anything,” he said. “I think he’d sooner sabotage you for the fun of it.”
“And himself along with us?” I asked.
Thoma shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed…” Unease put a strain on his soft features. “He wasn’t kind to Reimond. Even before the end. I don’t doubt he would shove you down to make a step for himself.”
That was so familiar I had to snort. “Sounds like he and Merrick would make fast friends.”
Kit rolled his head toward me. “That's quite enough about Merrick, don't you think?”
I rounded on him while squeezing his leg under the table. “Any Merrick is enough. Too much, in fact.”
“Then you won't mindchanging the subject.” The emphasis he put on the last few words overpowered my desire to carry on. I turned my attention to the kitchen window and the unseen Ossuary building beyond.
While I continued to hold my peace, Kit spoke. “So, Thoma, anything interesting going on at the stables? Should we expect a few spring foals?”
Thoma sat silent for a handful of seconds, then pushed to standing. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not feeling well. Think I’ll call it an early night.”
I rose as well, and Kit followed suit.
“You’re leaving already?” I glanced forlornly at Thoma’s untouched plate.
His head bobbed as he backed toward the door. “I’ll see you in town.”
Kit brushed past me to accompany our guest to the exit. “Or we can try again another time?”
“Maybe,” Thoma replied.
I looked toward the stove, remembering the pan still heaping with food. “Oh! Do you want to take some food home with you? Or I can bring it by later?”
