He arrived before the altar and offloaded the bones, then met my eyes for a fleeting moment. “We need to go home, Pen,” he murmured.
“Of course.” Wasn’t that a given? But the tight clench of Kit’s jaw made me wonder if I’d missed something.
Our exit from the Ossuary was met with more cheers and praise from the townspeople. Kit kept his head up, but his cheeks were paler than usual in the afternoon light. When we passed by our cart, I noticed one of the Sentinels had taken Betty by the bridle and looked prepared to walk her behind us rather than return her to the stables as we’d planned.
Sure enough, Levitt kept his guiding grip on Kit’s arm as they took the lead in a slow procession through the square. I lagged a few feet behind, and the Sentinel directing our cart brought up the rear. The whole thing had a somber feeling, and questions crowded my mind. This wasn’t the reception I’d expected. The welcome party had been jarring in itself; never did I think I would have seen so many people celebrating a damning sin. But this steady march made me feel like the condemned being paraded to the gallows.
When we crested the low hill before Kit’s cottage, the door was open, and a man stood outside. Not just any man; my brother held a post by the doorframe, wearing his flowing robes and wide smile. But there was something fiendish in his eyes.
“Kitingor! Penwell!” he crowed, and I bristled.
Stepping out from behind Kit and Levitt, I closed the gap to Merrick in swift strides. “What are you doing here?” I asked him. With the door swung wide, I could see into the house where two other Sentinels stood in the living area.
They were waiting for something. No one moved as Levitt brought Kit to the doorstep and Merrick beckoned us all inside.
The Sentinel leading Betty was last in. He carried both our bags and dropped them on the floor with a dusty thump. Everyone stood, forming a semicircle in the room. Levitt remained between Kit and me, and one of the Sentinels moved to my other side, blocking my path to the exit.
Silence descended until Merrick took it upon himself to announce, “Kitingor Koesters, you are accused of stealing ceremonial supplies to increase your chances of surviving the third Oath.”
The hemlock.
I cut a glance at Kit, who didn’t fool me with his placid expression.
Merrick’s chest puffed. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?” He had broken formation to cross the tiny room and crowd in front of Kit, who was still tethered by Levitt’s unrelenting grip. They were treating him like a criminal, like some fearful thing. But despite his stoic expression, I could tell Kit was more terrifiedthan any of them.
“He would never!” I called over, following my brother’s lead to close around Kit. “And what proof do you have, besides?”
Merrick eyed me without turning away from Kit. “My sources are credible. Not to mention my knowledge of your mentor is far more thorough than yours, and untainted by childish infatuation.”
His words burned through me, and my hands curled into fists. I would have said more, but Kit shot me a look of warning, near pleading.
Merrick huffed a laugh and swung his arm toward the sofa. “Sit down, Penwell. I won’t involve you in this unless you give me a reason.”
Levitt gave a noisy sigh. “May we continue?”
Merrick acquiesced with a wave, and Levitt released Kit at last.
“Empty your pockets please.” Merrick’s eyes darted to me again. “And you, Penwell.”
Kit blinked, a bit stunned, but quickly reset to neutral and began patting down his trousers. The only fruit of his search was a partial biscuit he’d bought to give to Betty. The sight of the treat, and the memory of watching Kit mother and dote on the horse throughout our days-long journey brought a faint smile. Merrick claimed to know Kit better than me, but if he’d seen those tender moments and felt how tightly Kit clung to me every night on the road home, he would have had no cause to fear him at all.
After Kit had turned out his pockets, I did the same. Merrick sneered at the small handful of rocks—speckled pink and black and shimmering white—and single shiny green beetle carapace I’d picked up on the road.
He turned and gestured for one of the Sentinels to move on to our bags. The man untied the ropes cinching themshut and dumped the contents to scatter across the floorboards. Dirty, muddy clothes formed a misshapen heap that cushioned the jar of charcoal when it tumbled out after, and bruised apples scattered. I fought a grin as the Sentinel dug through the items, spreading them to reveal nothing of note.
Kit studied the pile, and I knew what he thought. He expected the vial of poison to be somewhere in the mix, tangled in one garment or another, blessedly obscured. I wanted to tell him not to worry, but with Levitt and Merrick looking on, I didn't dare speak freely.
Defying my brother’s command, I didn’t sit, and neither did anyone else as the Sentinels set about dismantling the house. It reminded me of their raid of the smithy, and of the mess they’d made the last time they were here, after which I’d spent an angry afternoon reassembling Kit’s home.
Kitchen cabinets were opened and dishes dumped out. Our food stores were rifled as the men went so far as to stick their hands into bags of flour and coffee grounds, digging for something they would not find.
Levitt didn’t participate. He remained at Kit’s side, having reclaimed his hold on Kit’s elbow, and I watched them, too. I had thought when we first arrived in Ashpoint that Kit and Violette made a striking pair, but Kit and Levitt were even more so. I’d worried about Kit’s plan to ascend to Merrick’s position, fretted over his true intentions being found out or of him being swayed back to the teachings of his youth. I hadn’t considered the Right Hand himself being an added temptation. An unrequited love tethering Kit to the past.
Unlike Levitt, Merrick seemed to revel in the search. He went to the bookshelves beside the hearth, pulling out Kit’s father’s journals and stacking them on the rug. Kit tensed,muscles tightening all the way up into his jaw, but he didn’t budge as Merrick flipped open the cover of one of the tomes and began reading aloud.
“Our plan is progressing well. We have identified the Sentinels that do not support our agenda, and we have secured the necessary supplies to move forward. We will have to be strategic in our implementation, but O and I are…” He trailed off, and his haughty expression shifted to one of unpleasant surprise. He flipped a few pages ahead and his brows drew down low over his eyes.
“Stop that!” I stormed over and made a grab for the book.
