Page 19 of Last Rites

He pushed up to his feet and crossed to the windows overlooking the square, then gestured for me to join him.

I wanted to root myself to the spot, not to be anywhere nearer to the new Right Hand than I needed to be, but one sharp look when I didn’t comply quickly enough was all it took to destroy that resolve. My disobedience didn’t only threaten my own wellbeing, but Penny’s too. I’d been aware of it since we arrived in Ashpoint months ago, and I was even more aware of it now.

I approached the windows and stopped at Merrick’s side.

“Let me be clear,” he continued. “I’m allowing you the privilege of keeping your entourage, but the moment one of them becomes a problem…” He motioned to the square below where two men were dragging the fur trader’s body out of the pool of his own blood.

My stomach churned, and I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Penny in his place. Dead because of me.

Merrick clapped his hand on my shoulder and leaned in, his voice low. “I will exterminate every one of them. Starting with my half-brother.”

I tried to keep my face blank while sagging under the weight of Merrick’s grip. He knew too well how to manipulate me. I couldn’t deny that it worked.

“A man who doesn’t crumble under the weight of leadership shouldn’t cower in the face of the disgruntled common folk,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt. “If they do anything to step out of line, as you said, I’m responsible for them. The punishment should fall on me.”

Merrick laughed and pushed away, causing me to stumble against the windowsill. “And let them make a martyr out of you? I think not.” He returned to his seat at the desk and cradled his right arm to his chest again. “They ceased to be common when they threw their lot in with you. Now they are co-conspirators, and they will be treated as such. You’ll just have to live with watching every one of them die.”

I turned toward the scene below as the two men hefted the fur trader’s body into a handcart. If I wasn’t careful, that would be every single one of my friends. Every member of the resistance. Penny. I had so recently given up sole responsibility for taking down the Bone Men, only to have it all pile back on my shoulders in the blink of an eye.

It was going to crush me, one way or another.

Merrick shifted behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him turn to the pile of journals before him and flip one open.

“As I said, there’s much to be done.” He spoke like I was an afterthought to whatever he planned to read. “You’ve been relieved of your duties at the smithy. Not to worry though. I’ve assigned a man to take over in your stead.”

He motioned toward the open doorway and the second room across the hall.

“That office will now be yours, but don’t expect to spend much time there. Preparations for the Vessel will keep you quite busy.”

He finally looked up from the journal and fixed me with a look of disdain. “Work begins immediately.” There was an air of finality when he finished with, “I’ll see you in the morning. I expect you to be dressed appropriately.”

I accepted his dismissal and took my leave, making my way down the Ossuary stairs and through the atrium to the front door. I hesitated there knowing what I’d see on the other side, and not wanting to face whoever was still waiting.

I hoped Rosie had gotten Penny home. Away from the body being carted out of the square. Away from the questions from everyone who was as blindsided by the happenings of the last eighteen hours as we were. Away from the threat of his half-brother perched at the top of his tower looking down on the rest of us.

Not that home was much safer. I wasn’t sure there was anywhere in the province we’d be safe, now.

7

Penny

After trying and failing to cajole me into baking to pass the time, Rosie sat in the living area entertaining the kittens while I circled the room, feeling like a caged animal. I’d felt that way the night before, too, peeking out the windows between bouts of restless sleep, watching the guards who lurked like vultures, waiting for the end.

An innocent man was dead. Not Kit or me, and while I was relieved by that, it didn’t alleviate my guilt. The fur trader had been our ally, a potential friend, punished for a crime he didn’t commit. I didn’t need to confer with Kit to know that Merrick was responsible for Levitt’s death. He’d killed our father, and now the cult leader. I was beginning to wonder what lines he wouldn’t cross. What he wouldn’t do to reach the heights of his delusion. His grab at power.

He’d attained it, though. There was nowhere higher to climb, unless godhood was his next aim. And that may have been close enough to the truth. He wanted to command Eeus. Compel him. Control him. Puppeteering a god was not so different than being one.

And who would stop him?

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been waiting or how many times my boots had thumped against the floor before the door swung open and Kit strode in. He barely crossed the threshold before yanking the bone necklace off over his head and tugging at the collar of the Shroud Warden robes.

He stood there, face flushing as he struggled with the knot Anders had tied until I rushed to his side and took over the task. Kit looked at me, his dark eyes brimming with worry. He excelled at fretting, but this time he was right in his concern.

After picking at the string tie for a handful of seconds, I got it loose, and Kit shrugged out of the garment like it was a skin he was eager to shed. It piled on the ground, limp as a slain thing but far too alive with meaning. With intent.

Kit dropped the necklace on top of it, but I scooped them up and hung them on the rack inside the door. I wasn’t fond of the clothing or what it symbolized, but if Kit was expected to wear the damned thing, I wouldn’t have him wearing it rumpled and dusty.

“Hello, Rosie,” he said.