I didn't understand Kit's alarm until I watched his gaze drop to his own towel and bare legs beneath it, then to me in a similar state of undress. Unless cult members were in the habit of taking baths with their recruits, there was little other conclusion to be drawn.
I snickered.
“Bath,” Kit repeated with renewed emphasis. He stabbed his finger toward the hall behind me.
A frigid blast whipped through the open door, and that was enough to force me into retreat. I spun and scurried back to the bathroom about the time the wheeze in my lungs caught up to me and started a hacking, rasping fit.
Shuddering from the cold thatgnawed at my bones, I unwound the towel and climbed back into the tub, sinking past my shoulders as I hunkered below the water line. I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, tucking into a tight and slowly warming ball.
After I felt fully thawed, I took the bar of lye soap and lathered myself from head to toe. I scrubbed at my hair especially, marveling at how long it had gotten in my time away from home. Mother had always insisted I keep it trimmed and practical since I was a working man. But now it was shaggy, more in my eyes than out of it, and tickling the nape of my neck. I had no intention of cutting it. I wanted to know how it would feel down to my jaw and with Kit's hands thoroughly knotted in it.
I'd finished rinsing by the time Kit reentered the bathroom. He was trembling and rubbing his hands down his arms.
I scooted over and unfolded my body, beckoning him to rejoin me, but he shook his head.
“No time,” he said. “We're needed in town.”
Considering the ominous messenger, I had an assumption as to why. I’d hoped for more of a reprieve before facing the cult’s next fiendish request. The thought of further suffering weighed me down, and my shoulders sagged as I sank deep in the water again.
“Is it the fourth Oath?” I asked, sounding timid.
“No.” Kit shook his head again. “Something worse.”
32
Penny
Kit’s explanation of what awaited us in the town square was vague, but foreboding. Not every recruit had survived the poison Oath; a few succumbed to the fate that had almost befallen me. We knew for fact that Reimond was among the deceased, and the thought of seeing Thoma bereft and grieving was as daunting as the possibility that Rosie may have died, as well.
I hadn't seen her since our clash at the house. I hadn't apologized for misleading her or hurting her. Regret haunted me, and I resolved to make amends the moment I saw her because shehadto be alive. She simply had to be.
The walk into town sapped my strength. Snow covered the ground and heaped on the rooftops, bringing clinging cold that bound me up with chills until Kit draped his cloak around me and hugged me to his side.
He glanced at the houses lining the path on either side of us, ensuring no one watched, before kissing my temple. “You can lean on me,” he said softly. “You're sick, after all. Recovering.”
I snuggled against him, not wanting to argue. “Aren’t you recovering too?”
“I’m not too weak to hold you, Pen.” His hand curved around my ribs. “Not ever.”
Hemight not have been weak, but my knees certainly wobbled—and not from the exhaustion—as we forged ahead.
Approaching the square, it became obvious why the walk here had been so quiet. The citizens and even the vendors had left their shops to flock to the street in front of the Ossuary. They formed a semi-circle of somber gawkers even larger than the crowd that had turned out to receive Kit and me when we returned from our second Oath.
The people clustered so densely that it was hard to peer around or through them, but that didn’t stop me from trying. Morbid curiosity drew my focus to something I feared I didn’t really want to see. I was so intent that I didn’t notice Violette approaching until she was nearly on top of us.
“Kitten!” she gushed, closing in and forcing me out from under the cover of Kit’s cloak as she cupped a gloved hand to his face. She tipped his head side to side, inspecting the purplish shadows ringing his eyes and his raven curls glossy with oil. “Oh, gods, you look a fright.”
Kit started to sway back from her, then set his stance. “I’m alive.”
Violette nodded, suddenly solemn.
I barely thought to hide my sneer as the redheaded woman whipped my way. Her expression was rife with exaggerated sympathy. “Pretty Penny. Brother-in-law.” She patted my cheek. “I heard you had an especially hard time. Hemlock is such nasty stuff.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Kit asked. A growl edged into his voice.
Violette glanced at him, and her mouth twisted in a frown. “You know, I’m not sure,” she said then turned quickly back to me. “But I’m glad to see you survived. Merrick will be pleased, as well.”
Considering I wouldn’t have put it past my brother to double dose me with poison, I doubted he would celebrate my recovery. I worried Violette might drag us to him next, keen as she was on family bonding, but to my relief, she ushered us toward something else entirely.
