“No, thank you,” I said then folded my arms and watched as Kit made a hasty exit out into the square.
He was gone for a while. Long enough I returned to work on Thoma’s saddle, though I had a hard time channeling my interest in the task. My sketchbook was tucked in my boot and, after counting the holes I needed to punch on the girth strap for the third time in a row, I set the leather aside and pulled out my pencil instead.
Flipping through the pages, I found the drawings I’d made during our trip out of town. They were frosty scenes with bare-branched trees and squirrels peeking out of their cozy winter nests. There were a few sketches of Kit, too, faint outlines of his body when he sat on the driving bench with the horse's reins in his hands, and one I’d started when I woke before he did after our first night’s stay at the inn. I must have studied his face for half an hour, trying to match wavering pencil lines to the slope of his nose and the angle of his jaw.
I was turning pages still, revisiting images and the memories they contained, when the sound of someone clearing their throat broke my concentration.
At the front edge of the stall, a tall woman with riotous orange red hair stood in a beam of sunlight. Violette Yost—or was it Oliver?—Levitt's twin sister and Merrick's wife.
Fighting back a scowl, I stood and tucked my sketchbook away. She scanned the shop, looking for Kit, I assumed, until her gaze lit on me. I stepped forward to meet her.
“Penwell!” She flashed a smile that I struggled to return.
“Kit’s not here,” I said.
As soon as I came into range, Violette seized me by the shoulders and pulled me in to kiss one cheek, then the other. Her hair tickled my nose and made me want to sneeze. “Don’t be silly, brother-in-law,” she effused. “I came to talk toyou!”
When she drew back, I wiped my sleeve across my face, trying to clear the sense and smell of her. My only encounter with her had been the day Kit and I arrived when she’d given us a tour of the city while fawning over Kit like he was local royalty. Too many people here seemed to feel that way, full of regard and even lust for the son of their cult’s former leader. Kit resented it, but not half as much as I did.
Considering our lack of interactions over the past few weeks, her statement surprised me enough that I asked, “Me? Why?”
Violette’s smile persisted, too full of teeth to be anything other than unnerving. “I thought we should get to know each other since you’ve decided to join the family business!”
I balked. It was a welcome party come far too late. I couldn’t help but wonder about the overture coming on the heels of my scuffle with Merrick. More than that, I wondered if he knew his wife was even talking to me.
“Thefarmis the family business,” I replied.
Violette threw back her head in a cackling laugh. When she righted herself again, she bent in and pinched my cheek so hard it stung. “You cute thing. I’m gonna call you Pretty Penny.” Straightening, she propped her hand on her hip. “Merry used to be cute too. Hard to imagine since he’s such a grump now.”
“Merry?” I echoed in disbelief. My brother, the onlymember of my family who insisted on using my given name, allowed someone to call himMerry?
“You should come to dinner!” Violette declared as though the idea had just occurred to her.
I recoiled and asked for the second time, “Why?”
Before she could answer, Kit wandered into view holding a paper-wrapped package I assumed to be food. He must have gone to the tavern and loitered for a bit but, with Tessa and the other recruits still out of town, I didn’t worry as much about who he might run into.
Coincidentally, the worst option for chance encounters may well have been the redheaded vixen now standing between us.
Violette whirled around, no doubt directed by my stare. No sooner had she faced Kit than did his expression turn hard.
“Kitten!” Violette gushed, either oblivious to, or unbothered by, Kit’s reflexive disdain. “I was just inviting Pretty Penny here to dinner. You should come too.”
I’d hoped she was joking about the nickname, but it seemed I was stuck with it.
Kit didn’t question the moniker or the dinner invitation as he continued forward. He cut into the narrow gap between Violette and me, prompting me to retreat into the shadow of the stall. “One moment, Vi,” he told her, then turned to me and held the wrapped item aloft. “Brought you lunch.”
“Late breakfast,” I corrected, then took it. It was soft and had some heft. From the savory smell barely suppressed by the waxed paper, I guessed it was a trencher with leftover roast.
“Kitty…” Violette cooed.
Glancing up, I watched Kit’s features run the gamutfrom disgust to frustration to forced calm before he turned to face our unwanted guest.
Violette greeted him with an unfailingly cheery smile and repeated her offer in the simplest way possible. “Dinner? Tonight?”
Kit dipped his head in a curt nod. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“What?” I blurted. With Kit’s back effectively blocking my view of Violette, I had to sidestep him to rejoin the conversation.
