Page 68 of Reap & Sow

Eda was baffled. You presume far too much, she wanted to retort. My heart is in no danger, least of all from Kit’rath Ansellis. But the words snagged somewhere inside her throat, and a dim sense of panic bubbled within her chest. Why did she suddenly feel like a cornered animal?

The old woman regarded her without scorn or judgment, dark eyes glittering. Eda wondered how far Robin’s powers stretched. How deep the well of her magic. Hers was a potent, inscrutable presence Eda had never felt in another mortal—but perhaps that was commonplace among alchemists. She’d met no others, and magic and its workings were a mystery to her in general. Once considered heretical, the Faithhood renamed magic alchemy after they discovered how useful it could be. Now the Cloister were a guild both revered and carefully controlled in Wesland: a mysterious weapon kept sheathed. Lawrie loved to rave about such things from his collection of banned sociology books.

Eda’s stomach flipped. Tomorrow. She would get them back tomorrow. “I’ll retire soon,” she announced, eager to pretend this odd exchange had never happened. “We leave for the city in the morning.”

Her nerves must have been obvious. Robin’s eyes softened. “The night is young yet. No good will come from stewing in your own thoughts alone. At least come eat and drink a little.”

“I don’t think—”

“I’m an old woman. I might fall off the boat without help.”

“Robin.”

“Look how these bones creak like sail masts! I need a strong young lass to hold on to.”

“That’s patently untrue.”

But Robin was already snaking her arm through Eda’s and pulling her portside with surprising strength. “What is true is that I smell roasted hazelnuts and pork crackling, and I shall put a curse upon you if you keep me from either.”

Eda liked Robin too much to disappoint her. They crossed well-trodden grass and joined the crowd gathered before the tree line. Eda had never spoken with the riverfolk before, but it didn’t seem to matter. Robin introduced her as the daughter of an old friend come to visit, and that was all it took. She was laden with a cup of warm cider, a plate of herb-coated duck meat, roasted nuts, and legumes.

Seated on a log before a roaring bonfire, she felt the chill in her bones finally ease. The night sky was dark in earnest now, glittering with more stars than Eda had ever seen. So much open space out here.

She basked in the bonfire’s warmth and the sound of merry laughter. Even the air was refreshingly crisp, so unlike the oily breeze of the city. How she wished Ben and Lawrie were here! Eda closed her eyes and imagined them sitting either side of her, their laughter amongst all the rest. She would not fail them. She couldn’t.

“Odd place for a nap.”

Eda jumped. Kit was sitting right beside her. How did he do that?

“I was enjoying the fire.”

His mouth twitched. It was unfair, she thought, how devastatingly handsome he looked in the fire glow. Now more than ever he seemed a creature made of shadow and secret things. His eyes were chocolate brown. Eda realized she preferred them as they truly were.

“You’re nervous about tomorrow.”

She had no will to lie. “Terrified.”

“I’ll let no harm come to you.”

“I know. It’s not myself I’m afraid for.”

“We’ll get them back. One way or another.”

It was easy to believe him, when he spoke so matter-of-factly. Some of the animosity between them eased. Perhaps neither had the zeal to maintain it. “In truth, I’m more frightened of what comes after. I need to get Severin Lich that mirror, or else I’ll have a crime lord after me as well as everyone else. Not that any of it matters if I can’t get Mr. Night his last ten years.” She picked at her thumb. “He’ll kill us come autumn harvest.”

Little over a week away.

Kit’s hand twitched on his thigh, as though he meant to reach for her. His fingers curled into a fist instead. Eda was glad of his silence. She didn’t want empty platitudes or half-hearted reassurances. Her reality was shit, and Kit knew it. It wasn’t his concern what happened to her after Ben and Lawrie were freed and the mirror found.

That didn’t stop her wishing things were different.

Despite everything, Robin was right. She did like him. Liked the way he listened to what she said with rapt attention, as though her opinions and feelings were truly worth hearing. The way his hand in hers felt like an acknowledgment. I see you. You are not a bad person. You matter.

Perhaps it should have meant nothing, coming from a demon. But it did. Eda was more shadow than person, kept apart from the world with only her brothers for company. She was a ghost. Robin’s mantle might as well have been stitched into her skin her entire life.

But Kit made her feel so exhilaratingly real.

She imagined him bringing her to see more plays, as he’d suggested in the dark. Imagined kissing him. Touching him. The warmth of his skin beneath hers, the press of hard muscle to yielding flesh. Those eyes like twin flames, dark and desirous. Dangerous thoughts—but what harm could a thought do? Eda hadn’t been close to someone like that in so long. Likely never would again. Was it so wrong to want to live? To be held by someone who wouldn’t run scared? Who knew her darkest secrets?