Paused at the door, Thoma gave another feeble nod. “Later, I think,” he said, then added, “Thank you.”
After he'd gone, Kit returned to his seat at the table. He picked up his fork and knife and began sawing at the chicken while I sank beside him and tipped my head onto his shoulder.
“First Isla, now Thoma?” I said. “Are we so unpleasant to be around?”
Kit shifted away, and I had to stop myself from toppling over as he pinned me with a scathing look.
“The man’s intended just died, and you spent the entire time he was here talking about the man who carved him up and your damn brother. EvenIwas uncomfortable.”
“Half-brother,” I corrected for lack of a better rebuttal. “That's twice now.”
Kit set his utensils down and drew a lung-swelling breath. “My point remains,” he said. “Thoma’s loss is fresh. He's grieving. You of all people should be sympathetic to that.”
I shot him a side eye. “I didn't realize you invited him so we could sit around and be sad. I'm sure he's done enough of that on his own.”
The spite in my words didn't stall Kit. He came back with equal measure. “Iinvitedhim so he didn't feel alone. Because most people here don’t see death as a thing to mourn. It’s a blessing to become a part of the Vessel. Thoma doesn’t feel that way, and neither do we. We’re some of the few people he can be honest with about his feelings.”
I slouched in my chair. I'd hoped to entertain Thoma with my woes. Give him something to think about beyond his own sorrow. Kit was right. I understood his grief, but I didn't want to experience it. I didn't want to go to that dark place withhim, just like I hadn't wanted to linger there myself after my father's passing. It was better, easier, to joke with Sayla about other matters or distract ourselves with more pleasant thoughts. Merrick's antics weren't exactly pleasant, but I'd thought them an effective distraction. Clearly, I'd thought wrong.
Kit looked me up and down, and his expression relaxed. He reached over and swept a lock of hair off my forehead. “I'm sure you meant well. Might have been a bit much for him is all.”
I hummed acknowledgment.
Ember and Nutmeg darted into the room, bounding and barreling over one another. I stooped and caught Nutmeg as she passed and brought her up to cradle against my chest. She squirmed and struggled, needle claws picking at my shirt until she finally tucked under my chin.
Kit sat by, wordlessly watching.
“About what Merrick said,” he began at length.
I cocked a brow. “Which thing? There's been so much I can hardly keep track of it all.”
He frowned, then returned to his plate for a moment to push the food around. “About you being a father,” he said without looking up.
I rubbed my face on Nutmeg’s side, working her into a rumbling purr.
“You said it was nothing,” I mumbled.
“I know.” Kit nodded. “And I didn't mean that. Merrick'sopinionis nothing, about that or anything else. That's what I meant to say.”
Nutmeg wiggled away to chase Ember along the base of the cabinets, and I expelled a heavy breath. It didn't bear discussion. In fact, discussing Merrick was what had ruined our dinner in the first place. I wasn't eager to let him spoil the rest of my night, too.
My chair was still butted up to Kit's, so I took the opportunity to lean against him. He wrapped me in a welcoming embrace, and I could smell the soap and oil scenting his skin. I turned my head into his chest and sat there for a long moment, thinking.
“What about the fourth Oath?” That question rose above the rest of my thoughts. “How bad will it be having Anders along?”
Kit held on to me, then hunkered in, bringing his chin to rest against the top of my head.
“It's a gathering of resources,” he replied. His breath made my hair flutter as he added, “Might be nice, actually, to have another pair of hands.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“What kinds of resources?” I asked.
He made a noncommittal sound. “Things Ashpoint needs. Items we can't grow or manufacture ourselves.”
In the isolated encampment, there was much we couldn't provide for ourselves, but thewhatbecame less perplexing than thehow, and fromwhom.
“Gathered from where?” I wondered aloud.
Kit shook his head. “I'm not sure.”
