Breath hung in my chest as I searched for the meaning behind his words.
You could be a lucky man, Kit,I thought.We both could. I would be yours if you’d have me.
“But why kiss me?” Kit asked. “There’s no one to see and nothing to prove.”
I liked to think I’d outgrown my need to impress a crowd of strangers. Quiet declarations were more meaningful than public displays. But I did have something to prove to myself. To assuage my self-doubt.
“I hoped you would like it,” I confessed.
Kit chuckled. “It was a surprise, to say the least.”
He broke into motion, no longer searching the ground, but instead staring up through the leafless branches overhead. After we’d traveled about a dozen paces, he said, “But about the branding?—”
“Will you be there?” I blurted.
Kit glanced over.
My scarred fingers ached with memories of fire and pain. The panic from a tragedy long past was still strong enough to choke me. I knew it would hurt. It wasn’t dangerous or deadly, but I dreaded it. Mostly, I didn’t want to face it alone.
I cleared my throat. “Will we be together when they…?”
“I’ll be there.” Kit’s expression was grim. “You’re my recruit, so I’m expected to observe.”
I nodded while trudging through piled leaves. “Am I expected to observe yours?”
“No,” he replied. “I don’t think so.”
“Could I? If you wanted me to?” I couldn’t ignore thenotion that he might be as frightened as I was, and I couldn’t bear the idea of him enduring the torture alone.
Kit shook his head. “I don’t want you to have to watch that.”
A gust kicked up, chilling the already cold sweat that had beaded on my skin. I shivered, and Kit closed the distance between us, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders. I quickly relaxed and let myself lean into his offered warmth. Fears about the first Oath quieted as we made the turn back toward town, and I thought instead about how wonderful I felt nestled up to Kit’s side.
“As for the kiss,” he said, and my heart stuttered in my chest. “I didn’tdislikeit, for whatever that’s worth.”
A smile curved my lips. I didn’t tell him so, but it was worth an awful lot.
28
Kit
Aweek after the celebration of Penny’s first sale, he was still buoyant. Given the first Oath looming a few days away, it was a small blessing that he didn’t seem to be as full of constant dread as I was.
He spent more time at Rosie’s in the afternoons as she taught him her bread recipes. I suspected that was part of why he was too distracted to give the branding much thought beyond what we’d discussed in the orchard. As irritated as he’d been at her intrusion on our dinner at the pub, he’d gotten over it quickly, which I was thankful for. I was glad he had a friend in this place who could match his sunny disposition.
I’d finished Penny’s knife the day before, so I closed up the forge after he left with Rosie and headed home by way of the butcher shop for a roast. If I timed it right, I could have dinner ready for him when he got home for once. As much as he took care of me, he didn’t give me many opportunities to return the favor. He refused to hear me when I told him that I didn’t expect him to handle all the house chores, and he persisted in doing them anyway.
The quiet of the house felt strange after a month of Penny’s constant presence. For as often as I tuned him out, I’d gotten used to his chatter. Without the near-constant background noise, my mind had too much room to wander and dwell on things I didn’t want to think about, so I filled it thinking through what I needed to do to get dinner ready.
I set the roast on the counter in the kitchen and lit the cookstove. When I turned to take a pan from the rack on the opposite wall, my eyes caught on Penny’s sketchbook laying open on the dining table. The exposed pages showed the sketch of Rosie’s cat that he’d been working on at breakfast. I smiled at the memory of his excitement at the prospect of her having kittens soon and how he’d gone on about how plump she’d become.
He rarely went anywhere without the book, so I hadn’t had much chance to see what occupied so much of his attention every evening. Roast momentarily forgotten, I settled at the table and flipped through pages of sketches of the town square and designs he intended to try on tool handles in the forge.
And there, tucked between a drawing of a grasshopper and one of Thoma’s colts in the stables, were a handful of folded sheets of brown paper I recognized from Rosie’s bakery stand. I pulled out the top sheet and opened it, expecting to find more artwork, but instead finding it packed tightly with Penny’s scrawled handwriting. It was a letter dated the day after we’d arrived in Ashpoint and addressed to his mother and sister.
I had every intention of returning the paper to its place until my eyes caught on my name partway down the page. Curiosity stayed my hand as I skimmed the letter.
I met a girl in the market today while I was getting supplies. Hername is Rosie, and she runs the bakery. Everything in her stall looked so perfect and delicious. The muffins I got for Kit and me were mouthwatering: orange cranberry, just the right balance of tart and sweet. I can’t wait to introduce the two of them. I think Kit will like her. She’s nice, and even though he sees the worst in people sometimes, evenhecouldn’t find fault with her. I hope they’ll be friends. I get the feeling Kit needs more of those.
