The sharpness in his stare grew soft, and he quickly tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I have an apology to make, then I'll leave the rest to you,” he said.
“But you'll stay?”
He dipped his chin in a nod. “By your side. Always.”
With that, he ventured out into the room, angling toward Reimond’s mother where she loitered with her husband near the fireplace. I watched him for a moment, long enough to see the quiet exchange begin before Thoma and Rosie crowded into my line of sight.
“You didn't tell her about the trial?” Thoma gestured to Rosie, who looked vaguely perturbed.
I raised my hands. “I would have! We only had a few minutes before everyone arrived.”
“And you spent those talking about your betrothal,” Thoma quipped. “Which is lovely, but not as pertinent as the real reason our Shroud Warden hasn't ventured from his home in days.”
I'd heard the excuse Merrick and Violette were doling out. Rumors circulated in town when I was at the market about the dreadful illness that had taken root in their home. They would be in quarantine for a week, maybe two, to ensure it didn't spread to the other townsfolk. Of course, I knew they had no sickness to share, only lies.
I scoffed. “At least this bit of treachery backfired on him. If he got away with one more thing, I might've screamed.”
The three of us shared a chuckle, but I sobered when I realized my joke may have been closer to the truth than I intended.
“I'm a bit relieved,” I added, tugging on my shirt collar. “Kit was called into question for something he didn't do, but it seems I've been absolved of something Ididdo.”
“And what was that?” Kit’s voice resonated from over my shoulder, and I flinched. That made twice that night he'd crept up on me. Clearly, I needed to keep a better eye on the man.
With another pull at the neck of my shirt, I turned to face Kit directly. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” I said, then immediately corrected myself. “Well, I did for a bit. Because I thought you’d be mad.Iwas mad. I was so mad I wanted to spit fire, and I…” With the three of them all staring, I felt myself shrivel under the weight of their combined gaze.
After a pause and a throat-clearing swallow, I peered up at Kit. He had a sort of warning in his expression, expecting the worst. It wasn’t as bad as all that…
“I went to Merrick’s house the morning before we left for Stagcross,” I said quickly. I would have continued with equal haste but was interrupted by Kit’s groan.
“We talked,” I assured him. “Just a talk. I didn’t hit him this time.”
“You hit the Shroud Warden?” Thoma gasped while Rosie snickered.
My brows dipped in a scowl as I ticked my finger at him. “I hit myhalf-brother. And he had it coming.”
I curled my fingers as though I could still feel the ache in my knuckles from their collision with Merrick’s face. My lips twitched, fighting a smug smile until Kit sobered me again.
“Just a talk,” he repeated without bothering to temper his doubt. “In the wee hours of morning. In his home.”
A puff of air escaped me. I knew better than to be indignant with Thoma gawking, Rosie stifling a stream of laughter, and Kit as stern as ever. Crossing my arms, I rolled my eyes aside and muttered, “Merrick and I used to share a home, you know. We’d talk at all hours. It’s not so strange when you think of it that way.”
When Kit didn’t respond, I chanced a look at his face and found his expression flat.
“You’re a gods-awful liar, Pen,” he said.
My arms fell to my sides, and I slumped. “I know.”
I also knew I’d only just begun owning up to my brash behavior, which Kit confirmed. “I trust you’ll tell me the whole truth later tonight,” he said, “when our house isn’t bursting with people. They’re waiting for you.”
He motioned toward the room where our guests grouped in clusters sharing small talk and infrequent glances our direction. We’d called them here for more than stew, after all, and Kit and I had decided I would be the voice of this movement. The man of words while he was the man of action.
A flurry of nerves swirled inside me. I enjoyed talking—too much, I’d been told—but it was novel to speak to a crowd who actually cared what I had to say. Thoma and Rosie stepped aside and cleared the path forward, but I didn’t move. I swallowed, stalling, until Kit’s fingers trailed down my back and settled at the base of my spine. A precious point of contact, and the support I desperately needed.
Rosie flashed me a smile then gave a shrill whistle, calling for quiet in the house.
All eyes targeted her, then me, and the silence gave me ample room to speak.
