Page 131 of Reap & Sow

“Thanks to you.” Eda’s gaze darted toward the dark figure lurking in the corner. “I can’t believe you persuaded them not to kill Kit.”

“That’s Tenelle’s doing. She convinced Tiernan that Kit’rath poses no threat, but I believe his rather spectacular display of fratricide did the heavy lifting. Everyone is still in shock. Tiernan’s tolerance will soon expire, and Kit’rath must leave Blackbridge first.”

Eda lowered her voice. “What of your…agreement?”

“I am to give him money, home, and provision in Blackbridge, so long as I keep the seat of High Governor, but there is no stipulation that he make use of it. So long as Kit’rath does not want my purse, I’m technically free of my obligations.” This pleased Wolfram—his shoulders hung low with quiet relief. “I shall not miss our acquaintanceship. You, however…well. Your strength of character is unquestionable, Miss Shaw. If you ever wish to work in the courts or high office, write to me. This city needs more folk like yourself steering it.”

She tried not to be visibly flustered by the offer. “Thank you, High Governor.”

“And what if I said the girl would do better with the Blades?” Tenelle appeared at Wolfram’s side, eyeing Eda’s bruised throat. “Strength of character means little among the skulduggery and slander of political circles.”

“A most complimentary picture you do paint of me, Martine,” Wolfram said.

“I wasn’t referring to you specifically, Governor.”

“Of course.” He shot her a dry look, then dipped into a parting bow. “People have mostly dispersed, but the streets will be aflame with gossip. I have a public address to plan before the broadsides get away with themselves. If you’ll excuse me.”

“I’d be no good as a Blade, Commander,” Eda said once he’d gone, “even if I did have the strength to lift one of those swords properly. It’s Ben who’d be a true asset. I couldn’t have done this without his help.”

“Hm.” Tenelle eyed Ben shrewdly, who straightened. “Maybe so. Come to Fell Keep once you are healed, young man, and ask after me. We’ll see how you fare.”

Ben’s tentative smile was joyous. All his scrapes and bruises paled in comparison. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Horses,” Eda added. “Ben likes working with horses, don’t you? He’d do well in the mounted regiment.” She felt the heat of Ben’s quelling glare. Noted Tenelle’s incredulous smirk. “Just a suggestion.”

“We will see.” Tenelle looked them up and down. “You’re both fit to fall over. The templehouse will be cordoned off for now. Come. The healers will see you right within the keep.” Sure enough, Eda spied the last of the Blades carting away the remains of the Gateway, disappearing through the chantry doors. The dais was empty but for the dark river of blood drying upon the stone.

Ben followed Tenelle. Eda did not.

“I…” She glanced at Kit’s dark silhouette. “I need a moment.”

Tenelle’s lips thinned. “Make sure he’s gone by sundown.”

Ben merely spared Eda a weighted look before he followed the commander through the chantry doors. Just like that, she was alone.

Almost.

“You came back.” Eda stood at the foot of the dais steps. “Why?”

Late afternoon sunlight had broken through the clouds. It spilled past the templehouse doors in a swath of honey, warming her back. The city outside buzzed with the dull hum of speculation, too far beyond the outer gates to be properly seen, where the Blades kept curious eyes at bay. In here, all was quiet.

Kit stepped into the light. “You know why.”

Her chest ached with memory of Mr. Night’s scorn—You’re in love with her. “Then why did you leave?”

“For the same reason.”

“Don’t talk in riddles. Do you expect me to throw myself at your feet? I won’t. You left me. Coming back doesn’t undo that.”

“I know.” He drifted closer. His eyes were bright as torches, but the look on his face was painfully human in its torment. “I left because I was scared to face Baelion; it’s true. But it scared me worse when you begged me to face him, because I realized that I would do it. For you.” He studied her hair, her lips, the curve of her cheek. “So I ran. You were right, mir’han. I’m a coward.”

Eda tried to take it back, but he cut her off.

“I returned because I realized the only thing worse than facing Baelion was facing a world without you in it.” He slipped into her space as though he wasn’t sure she’d let him. His gaze fixed upon her own. “I thought I knew what it was, to love a thing. Your poets and playwrights have much to say on the matter. But I see now that I’ve never loved anything. Not truly.” His brow furrowed. “Not as I love you.”

Eda’s heart squeezed, thumped, sang against the cage of her ribs. It should not surprise her to hear him say it. She’d seen it in the tenderness of his smiles, the yawning longing of his eyes. Felt it in the passion of his touch and the vehemence of his kiss. But it was something else entirely, to hear it said aloud.

“You love me,” she repeated in a daze.