Page 82 of Reap & Sow

“You could have fallen and cracked your skull in two.”

Eda glanced back at the ground, then at the vast night sky ahead. Everything was sideways. She fancied she might step off the monolith and fall forever through the forest. “You could have just come down.”

“I’m not accustomed to being ordered about.”

“Nor I.”

“Clearly.”

His fingers slipped down her arm and curled about her own. She shivered. They walked up the monolith. As they stepped onto its crest, the earth’s pull righted itself, and they stood atop the great stone with the moon overhead as it should be.

“I’m not sure that I like that particular trick.”

“You think changing one’s own gravitational pull is a mere trick?”

She couldn’t resist teasing. “Can’t be that hard.”

“Even among my kind, such a skill is difficult to master.” He turned his hands out at the wrists and did a silly turn, gesturing around them. The stars surrounded him like a thousand little fires. “What can you do, darling?”

“I’m rather good at cross-stitch.”

His mouth curled.

Eda sat down, watching the bonfires flicker through the trees. “I want to stop him. The bishop.”

Kit lowered himself beside her. If his bandaged arm hurt, he made no mention of it; perhaps it was already healing. “That’s exactly what Baelion wants, you know. You and the bishop pitted against one another, scrapping like dogs. Puppets on the end of his string. He’ll delight in seeing which of you comes out victorious.”

“I’d wager he’d prefer the bishop’s three thousand years to our remaining ten. But he hasn’t interfered yet, so maybe you’re right. He might only be doing this for his own entertainment. I don’t know and I don’t care. I’m going to expose Florian Fane, and when he’s locked up and fails to deliver on his promise, Mr. Night will kill him for it.”

“You and your brothers still owe ten years.”

“I’ll give him my own if I have to. What’s left of them.”

Kit’s lips thinned. “You don’t have enough.”

Ah. Of course he knew how many years she had left. Any demon making a Pact could sense as much. No point in treating with a mortal who couldn’t make good on their end of the bargain.

“How—how long do I have?”

“Do you really want to know?”

No, she decided. Knowing might be worse. She could certainly guess: Kit had taken fifty years, and Eda had already lived out twenty. Few in Blackbridge saw their eightieth year. Whatever time she had left was likely in the single digits. Less.

Eda picked at her nails. The evening breeze toyed with their hair, and there was his scent again—something heady and strange, like the aftermath of a lightning storm.

Kit continued, “You weren’t interested in the bishop’s downfall before. You only wanted your brothers back. Now you have them. Get Lich the mirror and Baelion his last few years, then flee to some foreign shore. Wasn’t that the plan?” He said it smoothly, perfectly level. A falsehood. Only someone very interested in her response would ask in so disinterested a manner.

“It was. But now every time I close my eyes, I see that little girl, or my brothers in that cell, or Lawrie’s leg—” She stopped herself. Took a breath. “I wish I didn’t care about what he’s doing to Blackbridge. I spent most of my life hating the place. Fane called it a festering boil of a city, and he’s probably right, but it’s my home. It’s my festering boil.”

“Interesting analogy.”

“I want Ben and Lawrie to live long, happy lives. To be free men. Or else what did I sacrifice mine for? What matter is a life if you do nothing good with it?” She turned toward him.

With his eyes fixed upon her, open and patient, Eda’s words tumbled free like rockfall. “I’ve tried not to care, because that’s what we’ve always done—Ben and Lawrie and I. We kept everyone out. We couldn’t afford to think about what we were doing, bringing all those people to the mirror. I convinced myself that I hated them. Told myself they were all pathetic, greedy fools. That they brought it upon themselves. Maybe that’s still true, but the minute I was desperate, I went to you. I called you a hypocrite, Kit, but…so am I.

“I’ve made so many mistakes. If I could just make that sanctimonious shit of a bishop sorry he ever stepped foot in this city, I might finally forgive myself.” She felt breathless. “You said that the powerful get where they are by looking out for themselves. But maybe there’s power in caring about something beyond yourself too. I’m going to get Severin Lich that mirror, and I’m going to use it to prove Florian Fane is the farthest thing from holy. I won’t leave Blackbridge a moment before.”

She hadn’t realized she wanted that. Not until she said it aloud.