“But you know how that feels,” she said softly, “don’t you?” She looked on the verge of tears.
“We don’t have to talk about that,” I said, equally soft. “I don’t want to cause you any more pain than I already have.”
She rubbed her hands over her eyes. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, pushed her braids back from her face, and let her gaze drop to where the tiny kitten was curled around my hand in my lap.
It was the first genuine smile I’dseen from her in days.
“She’s clearly chosen you. She spends most of her time under the couch hiding from us.” She reached over to tap the kitten’s nose. “We’ll be looking for homes for them in a week or so.”
I hadn’t had a pet in decades, but the idea of a couple of cats cuddled up between Penny and me was appealing. They could earn their keep as mousers, at least, and keep our pantry pest free. A little extra warmth on winter nights would be nice, too.
“I could take one,” I said. “Or two. I’m sure Penny’s got a favorite among them.”
Rosie giggled and pointed down at the brown tabby gnawing at the ends of my boot laces. “The troublemaker, of course.”
“I should’ve guessed.” It was a relief when she returned my grin. “If it’s all right with you, I’d be happy to take the two of them. Just… don’t tell Penny? I’d like it to be a surprise.”
She nodded. “I won’t tell a soul.”
The sunlight slanting in the windows was turning gold, and I reluctantly relocated the kitten to the cushion beside me as I pushed up to my feet. “I need to be getting back. Still have to get something going for supper.” I scooped up the brown tabby and passed her to Rosie. “Whenever you’re ready, I know Penny would like to see you.”
She dropped her eyes as she tucked the kitten against her chest.
I was almost to the door when she spoke and drew me up short.
“It’s almost time for the third Oath.” She was looking up at me again when I glanced back at her. “Take care of Penny, okay?”
A lump of emotion clogged my throat. She had no wayto know how big an ask that was in light of Penny's reaction to the small doses of hemlock I’d already given him. I’d managed to put the fear of losing him out of my mind for a while, but it surged back in again, and it was all I could do to nod.
I would do whatever it took to make sure Penny survived.
Chapter 26 –Penny
Otis and Isla, the last initiate pair, returned nearly a month after Kit and I got back. From the smithy, we observed the fanfare as the townspeople flocked to greet and congratulate the recruits’ successful endeavor.
I watched longer than Kit did and found myself thinking bitterly of my father’s remains being viewed as such a prize.
The longer I was away from home, the more I missed it. I worried about Mother and Sayla and the state of things on the farm. The novelty of new places and people had distracted me from the responsibilities I’d left behind, but the announcement of the third Oath presented a fear I could not ignore.
I’d almost died from small doses of hemlock. Passed out in another man’s grave and been warned by the Symbiarch at the mission that I had no constitution for the stuff. Imagining the larger dose soon to be administered kept me awake in the nights leading up to the ritual, and that night was no exception.
I lay in my bed wrapped in blankets that should have kept me warm, but dread chilled me through. It was all I could do to hold still and breathe, remembering how impossible such a simple thing had been after the poison contaminated my body. I’d left my mother and sister with the promise to return a better man. It never occurred to me that I may not return at all.
A folded piece of paper rested on the table beside my bed. I reached over and grabbed it, wanting to crumple it but settling to hold it instead, pressing the creases until they were sharp. I’d written it on a prior sleepless night while wishing I didn’t have to. But considering the danger ahead, I couldn’t afford not to take precautions.
I meant to wait until morning to talk to Kit. It must have been past midnight since I’d been turning restlessly for hours, but the idea of passing the rest of the night in lonely quiet was unbearable.
Reluctant but desperate, I crawled out of bed, rubbing one hand over my bare chest and arms as I padded toward the door. The paper remained pinned between my fingers, and I brushed my thumb over it as I stepped out into the hall.
The whole house was dark. Even the fire was down to dim embers, making it difficult to see Kit’s form scrunched on the sofa. He was a bit too tall to stretch out on it, always hanging off by one arm or leg or with his knees bent against the back cushions. I stopped a few feet away, hesitant to rouse him.
Luckily, I didn’t have to, because after barely a moment, he bolted upright and huffed a breath. “Pen? You startled me. Is something wrong?”
I tried to speak, then swallowed and tried again. Neither attempt yielded anything that could be consideredwords as Kit shifted to sitting. In the blue-black light, his eyes had the faintest gleam as they skimmed over my exposed torso. I would have appreciated his notice any other time, but now it only made me feel more conspicuous.
Nodding toward the couch, I croaked out, “Mind if I sit?”
He shook his head and patted the lumpy cushion beside him.
