A growl rose in my throat as I stood from the couch. I turned toward the door, fully ready to march across town to the Ossuary and demand to speak to Merrick, or Levitt, or whoever would see me. I shouldn’t have stayed behind. I should have followed Kit and the messenger, even at a distance, and waited in the atrium like I’d suggested or lurked in the echoing halls. Then I would have known what was keeping him away. I would have known he was safe…
When the front door swung inward, I jumped back, almost tripping over Nutmeg as she darted past.
Kit stepped in, throwing back the hood of his cloak, then shedding it to hang on the rack. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at me as he toed off his boots and ran a hand through his coal black curls.
My stomach churned along with my mind, mixing up thoughts and questions as all the dread of the afternoon collided with relief. It was too much to put into words, and I didn’t know where to start so, while Kit pushed the door shut to close out the cold and dark, I finally said his name.
“Kit?”
He glanced over, and I waited for a smile, even a weak assurance would do. Instead, he was stormy and stern.
“I talked to Levitt,” he said.
My brows pinched together as I fought the urge to rush him. He was pensive enough he must have been thinking on what had happened, so I waited for him to come out with it in his own time.
That wasn’t to say I waited patiently.
I padded forward with half a mind to hug him, but he held up a hand.
“It was about the third Oath,” he said.
My stomach bottomed out, and I stopped in place.
“Merrick was involved. With Harlan and Otis…” He trailed off.
I searched his features while my heart thundered. Harlan helped me. He provided the fluids that saved my life. His involvement was not a surprise, and Merrick had been there to distribute the poison in the first place. Otis was the only unknown, but I’d never given him much consideration.
At least, I hadn’t until Kit beckoned to the sofa behind me and said, “We should sit.”
We settled in less comfortably than I would have liked. It was tense, almost formal, despite the fire crackling in the hearth and the kittens tumbling across the rug since Ember had roused from her nap. Kit sat stiff backed and silent for far too long, his pale skin aglow like it so often was from the forge’s flames.
“Kit?” I prompted at last.
He drew a steadying breath. “Merrick, Harlan, and Otis conspired to kill us,” he said. “They used a stronger dose of hemlock. Levitt knows, but he refuses to take action. Apparently, Isla confessed to him that she overheard them planning it, but he fears her word alone won’t hold up against the others. Not to mention exposing her testimony could put her at risk of retaliation. If they’re willing to attempt murder…”
Kit’s voice became a drone in the back of my mind as I pushed to my feet. The words bounced around inside my skull, restating the fact that my half-brother had tried to kill me and Kit. I didn’t doubt it.
Growing up with Merrick, I’d been enough younger and smaller than him that he’d loomed large in my mind. A figure tolook up to and try to model myself after. Even when it became clear I would never fill the mold he made for me, I tried. I wanted his approval almost more than Father’s because it felt harder to attain. A loftier goal. And, gods, I was optimistic. Naive. Foolish about so many things.
I moved into the kitchen, scuffing my bare feet across the cold wood floor and adjusting the dishes on the table. I didn’t really see them. Didn’t hear Kit approaching or sense his proximity until he laid his hand on my arm.
“Pen?”
My gaze settled on the bowl of beans gone tepid. I gave the spoon and napkin set beside it a nudge, making them perfectly straight.
“He used to say he wished I’d never been born,” I said, still staring at the utensil. “I’m beginning to feel the same.”
Kit’s hand tightened around my bicep, and he turned me to face him in a movement so abrupt it left me reeling. I blinked up at him, resenting the warm well of tears in my eyes.
I expected sympathy, so the harsh glare I got instead stunned me. I was even more surprised when he snapped, “Don’t say that. Not ever.”
My lips fell apart, and the bottom one quivered while the near fury in Kit’s eyes held my tongue. Finally, I shook my head. “I didn’t mean it.”
Cupping my hand over his seemed to stir him to awareness, and his expression went slack. He dragged me to him, chest to chest with arms thrown around me in a tight embrace.
Only a few tears escaped before I composed myself, replacing sorrow with anger. Kit pulled back and rubbed the place he’d squeezed on my bicep, then brushed my hair back.
“I wanted to take you away from here,” he said. “Before the Oath. When I saw you holding that chalice… I’ve never been so afraid.”
