I hadn’t deterred Penny from his mission, of that, I was sure. I hadn’t ever successfully deterredanyonewho came after me. Inevitably, it ended in me running, leaving behind whatever semblance of a life I’d built for myself and finding somewhere new.
There had been five other towns before Forstford, and every one of those had ended in disaster. I was physicallychased from the first when the townsfolk found out who I really was three months after I arrived. Then, after an entire year of doing all the right things, I was ordered to leave the second town when a traveling merchant recognized me and spread the word to anyone who would listen.
I barely made it a month in the third town before the rumors found me again. The fourth was more promising, and I managed for a year and twelve days until some men came chasing tales of a Bone Man hiding in plain sight, and I ran in the middle of the night to avoid trouble. The fifth was home for a grand total of five months, and I didn’t even fight when I was confronted about where I’d come from.
There didn’t seem to be a point by then, and I wandered for the better part of three months after that until I found Forstford and put down roots.
I didn’t want to leave or find somewhere else to hide.
I was so tired of running.
On top of that, I couldn’t deny the scathing truth Penny had dropped on me in the market. He had a point, even if it wasn’t the one he’d been trying to make. Maybe thiswasmy way to fight them. Maybe the answer to the cult’s destruction had been in front of me the whole time, and I’d been too terrified to see it. I wasn’t a simpering seventeen-year-old anymore. I was old enough to know the difference between submission and a means to an end. If Penny and I joined forces, we could take the Bone Men down piece by piece, starting with his father’s remains.
I shut that line of thinking down.
If I was going to go back, I would do it alone and on my own terms. Penny would only be a liability. That meant I would need to find a way to send him home before I committed to risking my life to oppose a cult determined to leash the god of suffering for their own ends.
I bent to set the whiskey bottle on the floor before it could slip from my suddenly weak grip. The thought of delving into those journals made my hands tremble. If I’d thought myself a coward before, I clearly hadn’t realized the extent of my desire to pretend that the first seventeen years of my life hadn’t happened. Up those rickety rungs, dark with mildew and crumbling with rot, were mementos of a life I’d tried to forget and now needed to remember.
“You reallyarea coward, Kit,” I hissed to myself. “Just climb the damn ladder.”
It took a feat of will to pull myself up into the murky darkness of the attic. When I got there, I stood, shaking like a terrified little boy. My eyes slowly adjusted to the half-light from the tiny west-facing window, illuminating the collection of boxes and crates piled haphazardly in the far corner. A thick layer of dust covered all of it, reminding me how long ago I’d hidden it away.
I stepped off the ladder, wiping my quaking hands on the thighs of my slacks. My palms were damp, and my mouth was dry, but I forged ahead. The sooner I got what I was looking for, the sooner I could return to the quiet of my den to read about my father’s infernal predilections in relative peace.
Not that there was much peaceful about that.
The floor creaked underfoot as I crossed to the window, raising clouds of dust in my wake. By the time I brushed away the thick coating from the chest containing my father’s journals, the air was almost too thick to breathe. I tugged my shirt over my nose and pried the wooden lid open, staring down at the bundle of books inside until I dredged up the courage to pull them out.
The leather bindings were warm against my hands, their spines rough and dry from years of storage. The sensation, like chapped skin catching on fabric, made merecoil in disgust. It was like my father reached out from the grave and gave me the barest taste of what was in store when I pulled back those covers.
If I was this uncomfortable handling the books, what hope did I have of coming through the Oaths with my mind in one piece?
With a growl, I snatched the books from the chest and gathered them in my arms. Before I could change my mind, I hurried down the ladder, crossed the house, and dumped them in a heap on the coffee table.
I returned to the hall and retrieved my bottle of whiskey. It was only a quarter full, which wouldn’t get me drunk enough to handle digging around in the specters of my past. So, I detoured to the kitchen and fished out the last bottle of alcohol in my cupboard.
My stomach grumbled, and I realized I was needed at the forge in the morning. Drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea; supper would have to come first.
I refused to acknowledge that I was stalling.
As hungry as I was, I had little desire to eat, so dinner was thickly sliced bread toasted over the cookstove, then slathered in honey and with far too much cheese melted on top. It would hopefully be enough to cut the alcohol I planned to consume over the next few hours. I choked it down, then washed the dishes to give my meal time to settle while I finished off the open bottle.
When I was done, I made it only partway to the den before I heard a knock at the door. I considered ignoring whoever was there, but a few moments later, they knocked again. I had a feeling I knew who it was and that he wouldn’t stop until I answered.
I wasnotdrunk enough for this.
With the whiskey bottle tucked under my arm, I undid the locks and cracked the door to see Penny standing onthe mat, looking particularly sorry for himself. The temptation came to close the door again, but the look on his face stayed my hand.
“About what I said in the market earlier…” His green eyes squinted, and his shoulders curled in, making him look even younger. “It was rude, and I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” I scoffed. “Showing up here, disrupting my life, and expecting me to begratefulfor the opportunity to help you. I’m happy here.”
Happy didn’t feel like the right word, but it was the best I had. Degrees of contentment were all I’d allowed myself since my escape, for fear that the guilt that accompanied true happiness would be too hard to bear after so much darkness. But how could I explain that to a man who had no concept of the horrors I’d seen?
Thunder rolled above us, and Penny cast an uneasy glance at the brooding clouds crowding low against the treetops. Rain was imminent, and he wasn’t dressed for it. By the looks of him—his clothes wrinkled and smudged with dirt—he hadn’t spent the last night in a bed.
I didn’t want to feel sorry for him, but I did.
