Page 111 of Reap & Sow

“Please, there must be something you can do. How—how many years do I have? You can have them. Whatever’s left.”

Ben made a noise of outrage. “Eda!”

“No.” Kit’s voice grated like shifting ice. “Even if I could help the boy, I would not take your years to do it.”

Frustration sparked. She gripped his arm. “Is Robin telling the truth? Is killing Mr. Night the only way to stop the infection?”

He was stiff as a board beneath her fingers. Before, he’d yielded to her touch like butter in the sun. “It’s true that the fiends are here by my brother’s will. And a fiend’s bite is magical in nature. Killing Baelion would stop the infection’s power at the root. However,” he snapped at her brightening expression, “it does not mean your brother would be saved. The magic in his blood may die out, but he is still badly wounded.”

“But the injury would be a mortal one, nothing more,” she argued hotly. “This is the only chance he has.”

His expression crumpled. “I can do nothing, mir’han. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not true. You’re strong, Kit. You said it yourself: Your people favored you to rule. They saw your worth, as I do, and you should not run from it. Here’s your chance! Show Baelion who you are.” She steeled herself. “Kill him.”

Kit’s face fell, stony. He was slow to respond. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“I know he’s powerful. I know you don’t wish to fight him. But you’re the only one who can. Aren’t you tired of hiding? Of living in the shadows, playing at being mortal, when Baelion rules over your kin in your absence? After everything he did to you growing up, all the ways he hurt you—”

He reared as though slapped, eyes flashing toward Ben. When Kit looked back at her, there was hurt in his gaze. “I confided in you. Now you mean to use my shame against me? To wield my secrets like a weapon, compel me to do your dirty work?”

Eda flinched. “You never said your past was a secret.”

His voice dipped. “You think I make a habit of revealing myself to any who ask? Against reason, against judgment, I told you, and I don’t—” He looked away. “I don’t even know why.”

“Kit—”

“You demand that I act in lieu of your own strength, like a common dog.” His lip curled. “Who are you to command me?”

Eda shook her head in disbelief. He’d not scorned her like this since their first meeting. “I’m not commanding you to do anything. I’m asking you, as your—” She stopped herself. As his what? The way he looked at her now, she feared she was nothing to him at all. “I’m just asking you.”

“You ask too much.”

Her temper flared. “I’m scared to face the thought of killing him too. I admired Mr. Night’s strength, his freedoms. Fooled myself into thinking that he cared about me. But he doesn’t care. His words are poison, drip-fed over so many years I became numb to what it does. I reserved all my hatred for my father and my brothers. But it won’t happen again.” She struck out her chin, glaring. “All of this could be over. My family’s Pact. Lawrie’s suffering. This city’s suffering. Your own. Yet you refuse…why? To be contrary? Pride? No.” She set her jaw. “You’re afraid.”

He bristled.

She heard Ben step closer. “Eda…”

“I thought demons were stronger than us. But you’re all just so afraid. Mr. Night too. That’s why you make Pacts for human years, isn’t it? You fear mortality. Your kind pity us for our short lives, revile us for so freely giving up that which you covet. But I see now. We die quickly and easily, and that makes living all the more precious. A demon will never understand that.” She curled her fists. Her eyes were wet. I will not cry. “You hoard our stolen years to stave off your own end. Live for centuries or more, all to avoid what humans face every day. And you know what I think?” She prodded his chest. “I think it’s pathetic.”

Kit’s visage shimmered between forms. He was breathing heavily, eyes narrowed to slits.

“You play at being a man, but you will never know what it is to be mortal until you can face the inevitability of your own death,” she continued. “And that’s the irony, isn’t it? If you have nothing to live for, you’re dead already.”

His hand shot out. She was hauled against him, nose-to-nose. In an instant, the illusion was gone. Only the demon remained—ashen and fanged and otherworldly. His body vibrated with something violent and raw.

Ben moved toward them; Eda held out her hand. She stared into Kit’s eyes and wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like.

“Stop it,” he snapped, leaning his brow to hers. His voice shook. “Why are you saying this? Why do you have to ruin it?”

Eda ignored him. “Will you fight?”

Will you fight for me?

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

Her heart sank. She observed every feature: the slope of his cheek, his fine brow, his silky lashes and the way his hair fell into them just so. Committed it all to memory.