Kit
Iwasn't sure whether it was my aching neck and hips that woke me the next morning, or the fact that I was overly warm with Penny pressed against me and the blanket tucked around us both. After our shared bath—which had been a more pleasant experience than I was expecting, even with the tight squeeze in our small tub—Penny had bypassed his room to rejoin me on the couch for the remainder of the night. At some point after that, we’d shifted so my head was resting on the arm at an odd angle, my knees were bent, and Penny was curled into a ball tucked tight against my bare chest. It was a squeeze to fit both of us on the seat cushions, and I was impressed that he hadn’t rolled off.
Despite being so warm, I tightened my hold on him and adjusted to alleviate the crick in my neck and bury my nose in his hair. Memories of the night before filtered in, and yet more heat flushed my face and forced me to shift my hips away as my body responded. I still wasn’t sure where I’d found the courage to pursue the kind of pleasure Penny hadbeen after for weeks, but I was glad I had. I needed that sort of connection, and so did he. A respite from the anxiety and fear that had been lurking in the backs of our minds since Emberstead.
It was still early judging by the faint glow of dawn peeking in around the curtains. In a few short hours, the third Oath loomed, dark and ominous enough to chase away all better thoughts. I was still so tired, but now that my mind was churning, it was unlikely I’d manage any more sleep, so I got as comfortable as I could. At least Penny seemed to be resting peacefully.
I dragged my fingers along his back, mapping every inch of bare skin before coming to a stop between his shoulders. He hummed in his sleep and arched into the touch. With his head tucked beneath my chin, his breath tickled my neck as he sighed in contentment.
My eyes settled on the folded piece of paper beside the melted remains of the candle on the table. I marveled at how much Penny must have trusted me to sign over the farm and ask me to take care of his mother and sister. The family he apparently wanted to bemine, too.
In spite of the offer coming on the heels of his fear that he wouldn’t survive the third Oath, I couldn’t deny that I liked the idea. When we’d visited them, I’d been jealous of their closeness and the easy affection they’d shared, and I’d have given almost anything not to feel like an outsider there. It had been nice being on a farm again. I enjoyed the solitude of the forge most days, though less now that I was used to Penny’s constant presence there, but on a farm was the closest I’d ever gotten to having family after I left my father behind. I didn’t have many fond memories, but what few I did have were tied to tending fields and caring forlivestock.
The Olivers were the sort of family I’d always wanted, and I could be useful to them. But I couldn’t take Penny’s place. It wouldn’t be the same if he wasn’t there, and I wasn’t sure there was a place in his family for me without him. Who else would take their blame for his death but me? I’d told him I’d look after them, and I intended to keep my word, even if it was just to ensure things could run smoothly without my presence. I doubted they’d want to have look at me and be reminded of what they lost.
But none of that bore thinking about. Penny would live. He would take back the deed, and that would be that. I refused to believe anything different.
I was dozing lightly again by the time he stirred an hour later. His arm crept around my waist as he unfolded to stretch his legs over mine, as reluctant to move as I was.
“Morning,” I murmured.
“Already?” he asked through a yawn, burying his face against my shoulder to block out the dim light in the room. “I don’t want it to be morning yet.”
I chuckled. “Unfortunately, it’s outside my power to push back sunrise.”
He huffed and snuggled closer. “Are you sure?”
If I could have, I’d have paused time and delayed the third Oath indefinitely. Already, dread was sinking in my stomach, heavy as a stone.
“Positive,” I said. “I’m not ready for today either.”
He lifted his head long enough to peek at the light creeping in beneath the curtains, then burrowed back in. “It’s early still. We can pretend it’s not today for a little while longer.”
I pressed a kiss into his hair. In response, he trailed his lips across my shoulder, making me squirm. Heat spreadfrom that point of contact until every inch of me felt hot enough to catch fire.
“Pen,” I murmured.
He shifted again so we were laying chest to chest and face to face, sharing the same air.
“Darling,” he said, his voice rolling over me like warm honey.
My breath hitched when I remembered his comments the night before, the first time he’d called me that. I’d never been anyone’s darling before, and certainly no one had ever told me I was perfect. It took all my resolve not to dismiss the comments outright, far more accustomed to hearing all my negative qualities and never the positives. But the way Penny looked at me when he said them, said I was perfectfor him… His sincerity was almost enough to make me believe it.
I cupped the back of his head in my palm and urged him down until his lips met mine. I hoped the sweet, tender kisses we shared communicated all the things I wasn’t sure how to say. That he wasmydarling, and that I didn’t think there would ever be anyone else who could make me feel the things he made me feel. That I never wanted anyone else to touch me as long as I lived if it wasn’t him.
A knock on the door made us both jump. Penny groaned and peeled himself away, freeing me to swing my legs over the edge of the couch and sit up. He settled on the cushion beside me, subtly adjusting himself in his trousers. I couldn’t help a smirk and stole a fleeting kiss before I crossed to the door.
A blast of frigid air swept into the living room when I pulled it open to reveal a hooded messenger on the stoop. The world outside was blinding; at least three inches of snow blanketed everything, with more falling lazily fromthe low gray clouds. If not for knowing what was to come, that this messenger was an omen of the uncertainty that we may not live to see tomorrow’s sunrise, it might have seemed peaceful.
I didn’t have a chance to greet the woman on the stoop before she spoke.
“Be on your guard. The Death Watch will come with the Shroud Warden, and you will undertake the third Oath this day before sundown.”
I glanced at where Penny perched on the couch, his mouth set in a grim line. “Before sundown” wasn’t exactly the timeline we expected to be given, nor did it tell us when to take the charcoal Nora had sent home with us.
“What time will they arrive?” I asked, dismayed when the hooded figure shook her head.
“Only the Shroud Warden knows the time.” She gestured between Penny and me. “It is not for you to know. You will wait in quiet contemplation, as is custom.” Without another word, she turned and trudged through the snow toward the center of town.
