“What?” a woman within the group squawked.
“Levitt and I will approach them.” Kit hurried to speak before the rumbling of concern got out of hand. “We'll be prepared with information about the members of the cult who don't share our views, and those who have committed the most heinous crimes.”
“Are you so eager to go the way of your father?” It was the same voice again, coming from near the kitchen.
“Excuse me?”
Kit swiveled that direction and searched, as I did, for the dissenter.
Sitting at the dining table, an elderly woman aimed her gaze toward us. She looked weary but also severe. Judging by her age, she had likely been in Ashpoint since Kit was a child. I became surer of that assumption as she spoke.
“Haveyounot committed heinous crimes?” She stabbed a gnarled finger at Kit, and I fought the urge to step in front of him to shield him from her scorn. I barely had time to budge before she opened her criticism to the others in the house. “Hasn’t everyone who wears Eeus's mark? Do you not fear foryourlives?”
My lips parted to protest or defend, but I could think of nothing to say. Considering I was meant to be the voice of this movement, I'd been far too quiet this time. Unprepared. Ignorant. And a bit taken aback by the myriad obstacles that stood in the way of our success.
My hand moved away from Kit's, and I touched it to my chest, pressing my fingertips against the brand burned over my heart. I had already suffered for this cause. Sacrificed for it. I shuddered to think I might be asked to give more. Perhaps everything.
Untethered from me, Kit stepped forward. As pale as he had been earlier, he was flushed now. Not in the charming way he got when I kissed him or nibbled on his ears. This was the heat of anger. At the very least, a stern resolve.
He squared himself with the old woman. “I believe the militia will see that the information we have to give them is valuable enough to buy us our lives.”
I wasn’t sure if our guests were convinced, pacified, or just hungry, but the interrogation ended there. While everyone else filled their mouths and bellies, I stirred my stew and considered the things I hadn’t before.
By the time the house had emptied and Kit was pushing a broom around the living room, I’d corralled my thoughts enough to ask him, “Had you thought about it?”
Kit paused by the fireplace and glanced over at me. I sat on the couch with Nutmeg tucked in the crook of my elbow. I poked her belly while she batted at my fingers.
“Had I thought about what?” Kit asked.
“About the militia,” I replied, studying the soft fuzz on Nutmeg’s stomach while avoiding Kit’s eyes. “That they could hang us.” When he didn’t reply, I looked up and frowned. “By rights, they should.”
“No.” Kit propped the broom against the wall. “They shouldn’t kill us.” He crossed his arms and turned toward me, trying to look stern. But I saw the glint of worry in his eyes. “Merrickwould like to kill us, though,” he continued. “Perhaps even more so now. What exactly did you say to him?”
Nutmeg sank her claws into my finger and kicked out with her back feet, prompting me to offload her onto the floor. She darted over to the dust pile Kit had created and barreled through it, tracking dirt as she skittered into the kitchen.
I smiled at the mess, but Kit kept watching me, waiting.
After a moment, I sighed and slumped back on the sofa cushions. “I told him to stay away. From you. From us. From the farm. I told him we were done. And I told Violette you’d never be with her because…” I ducked my head as heat surged into my cheeks. “Because you chose me instead.”
Kit lingered, braced. When I said nothing else, he nodded and reached for the broom. “That’s very true,” he said.
Rolling onto my side, I pulled my legs up, then stretched out on the couch, remembering nights spent crowded into the narrow space before Kit agreed to share my bed. Those were fond memories, and they felt so long ago, though it had only been a matter of months. It was staggering to think of how much had changed since I left home. Since I met Kit and came with him to Ashpoint. While the future most often seemed bright, that night it looked bleak.
“Should I be worried?” I asked in the growing quiet.
“Never,” Kit replied over the swish of the broom’s bristles across the hardwood. “I would choose you again today, tomorrow, and always. It was one of the easiest decisions of my life.”
The declaration made my heart pound, and a smile stretched across my face. But it didn’t stay there because that wasn’t what I meant, and I suspected Kit knew as much.
“I’m not worried about us,” I said. “But Iamworried about losing you.”
He set the broom aside once more and padded over to the couch. Stooping, he grabbed my legs and lifted them, then slid underneath to sit with my knees draped across his lap. He reached out to take my hand and brought it to rest on my stomach.
“I wouldn’t leave you, Pen,” he said, his brows pinched and eyes earnest.
“What if you can’t help it?” I asked. “What if it’s out of your control? What if?—”
“Penny,” Kit cut in, commanding my attention while his thumb brushed over my knuckles. “Do you trust me?”
