Penny’s features relaxed, but he wasn’t convinced, rather resigned. “You know he only gave it to me for lack of better options.”
Sayla plucked another chunk off her bread. “And because Merrick would have put us on the street if he took over,” she muttered.
Amelina’s brows drew down in warning. “Sayla, don’t say such things!” With a deep, settling breath, the older woman turned to me. Her smile failed to overcome the strain on her face.
“Forgive my daughter, Mister Mosel,” she said. “She's often too forthright with her opinions.”
I swallowed my last bite of chicken. “I find it refreshing.”
Amelina’s features relaxed, and she glanced back at Penny. “Before you go, dear, please consider all your options. That’s all I ask.”
He nodded, his hair falling like a curtain across his eyes. “I will, Mother.”
The rest of supper was uneventful, and shortly after sunset, everyone retired to bed. Sayla followed Amelina into her bedroom, but paused to flash an impish grin that had me on edge as I trailed Penny into the other. I nearly ran into him when he stopped inside the door.
Before I could ask what was wrong, I saw the same thing he had: the second bed had been piled high with loose canning jars filled with vegetables and preserves. They were stacked so precariously that moving the wrong one would send them all rolling onto the floor in a mess of shards of glass and wasted food. The bed had been empty on my first tour of the house. Clearly, Sayla was determined to force Penny and me into close quarters even though he’d told her there was nothing between us.
“When did my room become a root cellar?” Penny groaned.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, bending over my bag where it was tucked against the wall. “I’ll take the floor.”
Penny shook his head. “Mother would have my hide if I let you do that. You’re our guest.”
I pulled my cloak out of my bag. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
When I straightened, Penny stood awkwardly beside the headboard. He hadn’t met my eyes since dinner and didn’t now.
I gestured toward the pair of pillows on the single mattress. “I’ll take one of those, though.”
He handed me one, and I stretched out on the scarred wood floor. It would be an uncomfortable night’s sleep, but at least there was a roof over my head, and it was warmer here than out in the trees.
“Goodnight, Penny,” I said as I pulled my cloak over me.
He dropped onto the bed and fluffed his own pillow but didn’t say a word.
10
Penny
Iwoke the next morning to the sun streaming through the shuttered bedroom window and illuminating the spot on the floor Kit had claimed as his own. It was bare. Empty. The cloak he’d used to cover up with was nowhere to be found, and his borrowed pillow sat atop the small wooden dresser. Even Kit’s pack was missing from where he’d stashed it in the corner.
Had he gone on without me?
After we talked at my father’s grave and Mother aired her concerns the night before, Kit must have determined I was meant to stay here. Sitting in bed, I clenched my fists in the thin, linen sheets.
If he left in the night, I had little hope of catching him. I wasn’t even sure which direction to go, as he had given little indication of our heading beyond Eastcliff. Perhaps we shouldn’t have stopped after all. Pushing through to the Bone Men’s encampment wouldn’t have given Kit time to change his mind, or allowed my mother and sister to tell him the truth about the kind of man I really was.
It was a final, damning failure.
I dressed slowly, dragging my feet with dread at having to face Mother and Sayla and tell them my “apprenticeship” had come to an abrupt end. Pausing before the cloudy dresser mirror, I rubbed at the shadows under my eyes. I hadn’t slept well, overwhelmed with thoughts about Father’s passing, the future of the farm, and the Oaths of initiation that Kit claimed shouldn’t concern me. They had, but they wouldn’t anymore.
I was a fool. A failure. A burden on my family. And this was my fault.
I raked my hands through my ratted hair, then tucked in the tail of my scrubby wool shirt before deciding I was presentable enough to face the day. My boots were muddy from our walk across the property the day before, and I left crumbles of dirt in my wake as I trudged down the hall toward the kitchen.
My mother and sister bent over the counter, putting the finishing touches on a breakfast of ham, eggs, and pan-fried potatoes. A loaded plate waited on the dining table along with a fork and knife wrapped in a cloth napkin.
Sighing, I dropped into the chair before it and unrolled the silverware before Sayla skated by and slapped my hand.
