We travel along the main street and I discover Finch is entirely right that people avoid us. Despite the bustling streets, there’s a ring of space around us like they’re all afraid to get too close and be judged unworthy.
Or perhaps they simply don’t want to step too close to the cloaked weirdos.
Within half an hour, we’re in a much less salubrious neighbourhood. Passing by the street sellers who don’t seem to have any qualms about hailing a bunch of hooded monks.
We reach a cramped, slightly lopsided building, and there’s a zing of sensation in my chest. A rightness.
He’s here,Noush whispers. As if I didn’t know that already from the sheer joy she’s pumping out.
Then Kit’s face appears through the crack in the door, and he flings the door open. His face breaks into a wide smile, gesturing for us to come inside the little house with a sweeping look up and down the street. He then firmly but quietly shuts the door behind us with a click.
As soon as we’re inside, I’m in his arms. He holds me firmly to his chest, and I suck in the scent of him. There’s a surface scent of laundry soap that doesn't smell quite right. But underneath that, there’s the faintest hint of fragrant black tea. A scent that’s undeniably Kit and undeniably mine.
“You’re here. You came. I knew you would,” he murmurs into my hair, pressing kisses to my temples before tipping my chin up with his index finger and finishing with a long, lingering kiss to my lips.
“Are you all right?”
“I am now that you’re here,” he murmurs before pulling back. “Right. What’s the plan then?”
Finch is leaning casually on the door, his eyes focused on something to the right. “Who are you?”
I twist around in Kit’s arms in time to see a teenage boy drop onto his bum in the middle of the stairs. He gapes down at us, and Frannie gives him a little wave as she removes her hood.
“This is Amble. His family has kindly allowed me to stay at their house while I’ve been stuck here,” Kit replies, with a clear warning in his tone. “He also happens to be a big fan of yours. So be nice.”
“Finch has fans?” Torin mutters, loud enough to make the teenage boy jump.
“You all do,” Kit replies. “It seems like the crew has made quite a name for themselves among certain communities in Ashwick.”
The teenager then thunders down the stairs and heads to the kitchen, where he starts pulling out a haphazard collection of mugs and glasses.
Kit glances over at him, keeping his voice low as he fills us in. “Apparently, there are rumours going around the beast-borne community. They say that Finch is going to come here and free them all from their shitty situations. They say he’s going to behead the king and ride off on a dragon.”
“Clearly they’ve been reading my dream diary,” Finch quips.
“How did you get here?” Torin asks. “And where’s Jack hiding? You can’t tell me you’ve both been infringing on these people’s hospitality for the past few days?”
“Jack’s not here.” For some reason, Kit looks between me and Torin with a look of pure devastation on his face, and my gut twists. “I’m sorry. But Jack’s the reason I ended up here in the city. We can’t trust him.”
Torin
“NO. IT CAN’T BE.” MYvoice barely sounds like me, like my abomination is trying to make himself known.
My spine tingles and I fight to regulate my breathing to push him back. Not the time. Not the place. I’ll certainly skewer someone accidentally if my spines decide to make an appearance.
I don’t understand.
How can he be the one who betrayed us?
Jack. The guy who’s always smiling, always with an annoying quip. The guy who’s more likely to laugh things off than ever to argue, who fed me as a scruffy street urchin child, and who looked for me when I wound up inside the labs. The man whostepped into the pits of the abyss to get me back and fought his way through with a smile on his face.
“He didn’t,” I mutter. “Jack’s loyal. We both knew we were as good as dead if anyone found out about the mutiny. Finch saved both our skins, and neither of us ever forgot that.”
But Kit’s here, shaking his head at me. His eyes are soft, his expression far too gentle.
I can’t handle it. Something dark inside me makes me want to tear that look right off his face.
The room’s far too small for the five of us, plus the nervous-looking teenager who’s hovering in the kitchen. A flush of uncomfortable heat rolls through me and I suck in a shallow breath. It feels like I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
