Page 110 of Last Rites

He laughed as his face flushed pink.

“We’re planning for after fall harvest,” she carried on. “You have to be here for that, too. We’ll need the hands. And shoulders, Mister Mosel.” She bounced her brows at Kit, then laughed when I groaned.

“At least you have the horse back,” I said and gestured vaguely to the cart and mare parked outside.

Another bout of laughter answered my statement.

“And how do you plan to get that cart to Forstford without our horse?” Sayla asked. “Going to pull it yourselves?”

“I think it’s about time we got a horse of our own,” Kit replied. “Especially if we plan to visit with any frequency.”

He grabbed another piece of cheese and fed it to me as the conversation carried on. Sayla detailed her wedding plans while the rest of us listened. After taking a few bites of bread for himself, Kit resumed rubbing over my back and occasionally scrubbing his cheek against mine. I sank further into him, fully slumped and dozing, able to rest and dream surrounded by family, holding tightly to the man I called home.

39

Kit

Thanks to the eager, energetic young gelding I bought off one of the other farmers in Eastcliff, we made the trip to Forstford in three days. We got into town not long before sunset and dropped Rosie at the house to get the kittens settled while Penny and I stopped at the market for supplies.

I had expected to be in and out quickly. Unfortunately, the townsfolk had other plans.

Everyone wanted to talk to us. Some heaped thanks on us for the warning that spared the town from our manmade inferno, while others asked if there was any truth to the rumors sweeping across the province about the fate of the Bone Men. Running on too little sleep for nearly two weeks made the attention even more overwhelming than usual.

Thankfully, Ben came swooping out of his shop and shooed the crowds away. Though, he couldn’t subdue his own thinly-veiled concern as he looked us over, clearly recalling our bloodstained and somber state when last we’d met.

For as often as the memory of the light leaving Penny’s eyes haunted my sleep, I imagined that sight of us when he first arrived in Ashpoint had lingered for him, too.

He walked with us through the market, a shield against nosy neighbors and prying questions, while we got enough food to last us for the night. We would need to fully stock the kitchen, but that could wait until we got some sleep not on the hard ground.

In our own home. In our own bed. Far from the horrors of Ashpoint and the Bone Men. Somewhere I could be truly at ease for the first time in my life with nothing looming in the shadows, waiting for me to let down my guard.

Ben accompanied us back to the house, then took our horse and cart to board in town until a paddock could be erected in the yard.

While Penny fixed dinner, Rosie and I got to work getting the den dusted and clean enough for her to set up camp on the couch. There wasn’t much to say, so none of us spoke more than a few words through dinner or after.

The sun had barely set when we all retired to bed. Penny and I closed the door to our room and tucked ourselves into the sheets with the kittens at our feet. I pulled him into my chest and buried my face in his hair before I finally whispered, “Welcome home.”

He made a soft noise as he nestled closer. “I’ve always been home,” he murmured, already half asleep, “as long as I’ve been with you.”

“Me too,” I conceded, unsure of when that realization had hit me, but knowing he was right.

I slept through the night for the first time in weeks.

Sun snuck in between the half-open curtains the next morning and lit the backs of my eyelids a fiery orange, pulling me from a vivid nightmare about the day we died. My hand crept out in search of Penny, finding instead only cold, empty sheets.

My lungs seized in my chest when I realized I was alone and had been for some time. Still half asleep, I was sure I’d dreamt the gods returning him to me.

I tumbled out of bed, startling Ember from where she was curled on the pillow next to my head and into a wild scramble off the mattress. She shot under the dresser on the other side of the room with her tail twice its usual size. I should have felt bad, but there was no space for that while my breath came in panted gasps and my vision tunneled as I fought the blankets wound around my legs.

“Penny?” I croaked, using the edge of the bedside table to lever myself to my feet. My knees shook, and I barely made it across the room before they threatened to give out. I stumbled against the doorframe and pulled the door open, dragging myself down the hall and using the wall to keep myself upright.

Before I could call out again, I saw him standing at the stove with his back to me as he shook sausages in a pan like it was just another morning.

Because it was.

A sob caught in my throat and I staggered over, turning him around and pushing up the hem of his shirt to reveal the vivid scars across his belly and ribs.

“You’re okay,” I breathed.