I leaned in, bracing my hands on the arms of Levitt’s chair and bringing my face level with his. It took every ounce of self-control not to grab his shoulders and shake him until his head came loose. “He still has coughing fits. He can hardlybreatheout in the cold.”
And I worried already about his condition persisting into spring. Wondered what would happen when we returned to the farm, and his mother noticed him struggling. I wondered what I would say to her, how I would explain that I'd taken her son somewhere unsafe and brought him back unwell. Possibly permanently.
I thought all of those things while angry words continued to spill out of my mouth.
“You won’t risk yourself or Isla,” I seethed, “but you’re willing to riskourlives? You’ll sit up here in your tower while I risk the most precious thing I’ve ever had in this world?”
I scoffed and straightened, consciously reining in my fury before it burned me up. “Clearly you’re too much of a coward to do what needs to be done.”
“That isn’t fair,” Levitt said softly.
“No? Well, neither is youknowingMerrick is trying to kill us and doingnothingto stop it! What makes you think he won’t try again?”
Levitt’s lips pressed a thin line, but he didn’t speak.
“If he succeeds next time,” I said, my voice edged in ice, “the blame is on you.”
I didn’t give him time to respond before I stalked to the door and let myself out, slamming it behind me.
6
Kit
Iskirted the square, unwilling to face any of the stragglers closing up their stalls while I felt like a fuse that was dangerously close to burning down. I couldn’t face Penny, either, not until I figured out how to tell him that his half-brother had nearly succeeded in killing us both. Not when I was still stinging from Levitt’s betrayal. I was too raw.
Once I hit the outer road, I peeled off and trudged through the knee-deep snow in the direction of the pecan orchard. With everything out of season, it would be the one place in Ashpoint I might find solitude.
As the last rays of sun disappeared, the moon lit the world in shades of watery blue. The shadows of distant trees stretched over the snow like hundreds of skeletal fingers reaching for me. It looked far different than it had just a few months prior when Penny brought me here after our ill-fated tavern dinner, more ominous now than inviting. He’d kissed me for the first time here, and the memory of both of our bumbling reactions to that sparked a pang of longing in me.
He was back at home waiting for me now, and despite my need to cool my anger and hurt before I faced him again, all Iwanted was to let him fold me up in his arms and squeeze some comfort into me. Maybe offer him some in return.
But what I had to tell him was going to hurt him. I was tired of having to give him bad news about Merrick and watch him suffer with each new awful revelation. He’d been through enough. I didn’t want to have to drop this on him, too.
I paused to take a couple of deep breaths when I reached the tree line. The cold air seized in my lungs on the third inhale and prompted a reflexive cough. In response, there was a gasp from somewhere deeper in the orchard, and the crunch of snow under boots.
It seemed there wasnowherein Ashpoint where I could go to be alone.
I was ready to turn back toward town until a familiar face peeked out from behind one of the trees. The glare of moonlight from the snow cast a cool blue glow on Rosie’s normally warm mahogany skin, and her braids swished in the icy breeze. She looked as tired as I felt.
“You startled me,” she said as she stepped fully into view. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here.”
“Me neither.”
I slogged through the deep drifts between us and found her standing in front of a bench tucked between two tree trunks. There was just enough space cleared on the seat for her to sit, and she brushed away the rest of the snow as she gestured for me to join her.
The last time I’d seen her had been at the skinning after the third Oath. She’d looked a fright, then, pale and tearful and horrified. There was still a bit of that haunted air about her now. She looked thinner, some of the roundness in her cheeks gone as if grief had worn her down as much physically as it had emotionally.
She huddled on the other end of the bench, staring out into the dark. She was shivering even under her heavy cloak, so I held up the edge of my own in invitation. Her eyes flicked up to mine while she considered.
“Are you like this with everyone?” she asked with a hint of humor in her voice.
“What do you mean?”
She grinned and tugged on the lifted edge of my cloak before tucking herself underneath it. “So… mothering.”
Blush burned my cheeks, and I cleared my throat. “Only with my friends, I guess.”
Her smile softened. “You’re a good friend, Kit.”
