“No,” I said.
Penny’s shoulders curled in again, and he dropped his eyes. “I suppose you said as much when we had Reimond and Thoma over.” He was quiet for a moment before leaning closer. “Do you think you ever could?”
I shifted on my stool. “I’d like to, but…”
I didn’t know how to tell him that I wasn’t sure I knew how to love someone, or how to trust someone enough to let them loveme. The mere thought of letting someone in and relying on them like that terrified me. Maybe I just wasn’t made for it.
Penny dipped his head to try to catch my eye. “But what?”
I tossed back the last of my whiskey, then dug some coin from my pocket to drop on the bar. “But it's late,” I said and slid off my stool. “We should get to sleep.”
7
Kit
It was another restless night for both of us, though Penny managed more sleep than I did. When morning broke, we had a brief breakfast with Edgar and Cait before they set off on their way, wishing us luck and promising to see us back in Ashpoint. Penny and I made a detour through the market in town to pick up several crates of supplies, and then headed out as well.
The day’s travel was much too quiet without the added company. Penny once again dozed off less than an hour into the trip, buried under his cloak and a heavy fur, leaving me to thoughts I didn’t want to be alone with. I tried to distract myself with looking at the world like Penny did, noticing the pair of jays arguing high up in the bare boughs of an old oak, and the tracks of a lone rabbit snaking back and forth in the thin crust of snow over the road. I was surprised to find that it helped.
We reached our next waypoint as the sun was dipping below the horizon, and Penny finally stirred when we stopped in front of the inn. He didn’t question why I let him sleep this time, just accepted the hand down and the quickcheck for a temperature that still wasn’t there, and let me hurry him inside where it was warm.
The main room was a sprawl of mostly full tables, and a bar stretched along the entire left wall. A massive fire roared in the fireplace that encompassed half of the wall to the right, with several well-worn armchairs crowded around the hearth. Stairs in the back corner led up to what I presumed to be the rooms for rent, and there was a narrow balcony above overlooking the pub with a few more intimate seating areas. It was surprisingly rowdy for such a small town, with a pair of women across the way playing a rousing tune on a piano while a few of the patrons sang along.
Penny’s eyes were bright as he took it all in, and my worry faded at the sight of his wide smile. I waved him toward an empty table and approached the grizzled old man behind the bar.
“Evening,” he said, smoothing a hand over the beard that reached down to his belt buckle.
I leaned on the counter. “Evening,” I replied. “I was hoping you have a double room available for the night.”
“Sure do. It’ll put you out fifteen coppers.”
I dug my coin pouch out of my pocket. “I also have a horse I’d like to stable and a cart to park, if you’ve got the space.”
The man nodded and jutted a thumb toward the back of the building. “Barn out back. My man’ll make sure your beast is fed and watered so long as you get it in a stall. Room to park your cart against the back wall. Stall’s another three coppers.”
I counted out the coin and handed it over, pocketing the key before gesturing to Penny. “Put whatever he orders on my tab.” At the barkeep’s nod, I returned to drop our bagsnext to the table where Penny perched on the edge of his seat. “I’m going to get the horse settled,” I told him. “Why don’t you get us some dinner? They’ll charge it to the room.”
He bounced out of his chair, seeming more himself with all the activity around. “I can do that. What do you want?”
The ever-present nausea thanks to the hemlock had destroyed my appetite, and the thought of eating made me want to gag. But Penny was perceptive, and I’d caught his looks of concern when I scraped half of my meals into the garbage more than once. He’d worry if I told him not to get me anything.
“Surprise me,” I said instead, then headed outside.
I got Betty bedded down in a straw-lined stall, taking a few extra minutes in the peace of the barn to brush her out and untangle the knots in her mane and forelock. After a parting scratch to each of the four other horses tucked away for the night, I made my way inside.
At the table, Penny picked away at half a roast chicken and boiled potatoes, and there was a mug of coffee for each of us. He pushed one of the cups toward me when I sat beside him.
I dug the vial of hemlock tea out of my bag and, after a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, squeezed a few drops into both mugs.
Penny groaned. “Can’t we skip it tonight?”
“I hadyearsto build up a tolerance, Penny, and you only have weeks. The more prepared you are, the better.” The thought of this not being good enough, or not having enough time, made me almost as nauseous as the poison did. He was too important to me, and I was already too attached. If he didn’t survive the third Oath…
It didn’t bear thinking about.
I nudged his mug. “So, please drink it.”
He sighed but did as he was told, and we both alternated sips of tainted coffee with chicken and potatoes until everything was gone.
