Page 40 of Last Rites

Once we made it inside Ashpoint’s walls, we dropped Rosie and Isla off at their respective homes, and I held my hands out to Penny for the reins.

His brows pinched in an unspoken question.

“I’m taking you home, then reporting back to Merrick,” I explained.

His fingers tightened around the reins, and he held them away from me. “We’re supposed to do things together,” he said, his voice still hoarse. “I’m not going to sit at home while you face my half-brother alone.”

“I’m doing my job, Pen, not trying to exclude you. I doubt Merrick would allow you to sit in on our conversation, anyway.”

When his eyes narrowed, I raised my hands up in surrender.

“But you can take me there and wait in the atrium, or drop me off and take the horse back to Thoma, and then we can walk home together, if you’d rather.”

He huffed and clicked his tongue to set the mare back into motion. “I’d rather,” he grumbled.

We hitched the horse up outside the Ossuary, and Penny’s hand found mine as we stepped inside. He held on almost too tightly, fingers digging into the back of my hand like he was afraid I might run. When we reached the atrium, he was reluctant to let go.

“Just a few minutes.” I brought his hand up to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll be right back.”

When he released me, he tucked his arms around his chest and folded in on himself, and I wanted so badly to wrap him up and tell him everything was going to be okay.

But I couldn’t lie to him. Not now.

The stairs up to the Right Hand’s office were endless. I was too tired for so much exertion, and by the time I made it to the top, it was a wonder I didn’t collapse on the landing. I was sure I looked wretched with a week’s worth of beard scruff and dark circles under my eyes.

Merrick’s door was open, and he rose from his desk when he caught sight of me. His expression was too even to read—the same practiced disinterest my father had taught me to wear like armor here.

I didn’t like not knowing exactly what I was walking into.

“Welcome back, Mister Koesters,” Merrick said, beckoning me in with a sweep of the stump of his arm. “I expected you days ago.”

I trudged inside and sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk. Exhaustion weighed down every movement.

“We ran into some trouble,” I said. “We dumped the sheep in the well, but we got caught in the act. We barely made it out of town, but Anders wanted to stay and fight. I couldn’t stop him, and I wasn’t willing to risk the rest of us getting caught. So, we left him behind and took a long way back to make sure the militia didn’t follow us here.”

Merrick was quiet for a moment as he settled into his own chair. His sharp green eyes met mine.

“I thought we had dispensed with the pretense and posturing, Kitingor,” he said finally. “Did you dump the sheep into the well before the dead body, or after?”

It was my turn to keep silent. I straightened and held his gaze, but fear crept its way down my spine. I knew he’d be wary of our story, but I should have expected him to find out the truth. I’d been naive enough to hope we might have at least a little time.

Merrick leaned forward and crossed his arms on the desk. “I do know how to check up on these things, you know. I’ve had plenty of time to get news from Millfield since it took you so long to return.”

There was no point in keeping up the lie. Not if he already knew about what I’d done.

“Anders released the sheep,” I admitted, squaring my shoulders and refusing to sink under his cold stare. “Then he separated us under the pretense of looking for it so he could try to kill Penny, but I couldn’t let that happen. I did what I had to do to protect Penny.” I leaned forward, too, bracing my hands on the edge of the desktop. “I will always do what I have to in order to keep Penny safe.”

It came out like a threat, and the corner of Merrick’s lips twitched up for the briefest moment before his expression smoothed once more.

“For what it’s worth, I instructed him to leave you both unharmed this time. I didn’t expect him to be so impulsive.”

This time. Which meant that the fire at the mission in Wendwood had been under Merrick’s orders. We had always assumed as much, but to hear him speak about it so casually made my blood run cold. Because he felt safe enough here, now, to be honest. To admit to at least one of the attempts on our lives.

My fingers itched for the knife sheathed at my hip, but Merrick had too many allies to risk lashing out at him. I could kill him, and then what? His Sentinels would find me and hold me down and slit my throat and give my bones to the Vessel. They’d take Penny, too. Maybe the whole of the resistance. And then they’d go after the rest of our family.

It was too great a risk.

“Then again,” Merrick said as he sat back in his chair, “I also didn’t think you had it in you to kill someone, considering your refusal to be a part of the sacrifices you brought in while your father was in charge.”