Page 34 of Reap & Sow

“Who is this person, exactly?” Eda asked. “Can they be trusted?”

“I trust her.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Kit’s response was lost as the cabin doors swung open, nearly whacking him in the chin. He jerked with a hiss. “Watch yourself, hag!”

“Why?” A tall, aging woman stepped onto the deck. “Have you grown so feeble that you’d bruise like old fruit?”

“Not the point. Robin, I need—”

“I don’t give a fig what you need.” Her eyes fell upon Eda, still standing on the grassy bank. “And bringing some pretty little vagrant won’t sweeten the deal. She’s far too young for me.”

“I’m not a vagrant,” Eda snapped.

“What are you, then?”

“She’s mine,” Kit said. “For now.”

Eda sucked in a breath. The woman noticed her hand.

“You made a Pact.” She shot Kit a look. “You.”

“Quite the enthralling tale. Won’t you at least invite us in so I might regale you with all the gory bits? Your favorite.”

Robin scowled. “I haven’t suffered a visit from you in years, you selfish bastard. Now that you want something, you suddenly reappear?”

Eda’s head whirled. Who was this woman, to banter with a demon so casually?

“Don’t embarrass yourself by pretending you’re not delighted. I’m shocked you haven’t simply expired from boredom in my absence.” His voice turned sly and sweet. “I humbly beg an audience, fair maiden. A chance to talk and a cup of your delicious peppermint tea is all I ask.”

“Fair maiden? Thought I was a hag.”

“That’s no way to talk about yourself.”

Robin assessed them both and released a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, come aboard. But it better be a damn good story.”

It was sundown by the time Robin was all caught up, partly because Kit spent the first half hour being told off for sticking his nose in her cupboards and tormenting her cat.

“What’s his name?” Eda asked, endeavoring to make small talk. She held out her hand to the huge hairy tabby and earned a scornful glare in return.

“Bastard,” Robin said.

“Sorry?”

“His name. Old Bastard, technically. He’s a bit long in the tooth nowadays.”

Old Bastard stationed himself at the end of Robin’s padded bench in a disgruntled huff, his rear pressed to the cabin wall. Kit claimed the bench opposite. This clearly perturbed Old Bastard, for every time the demon’s eyes drifted his way, the cat made a low, angry sound.

Very sensible of him.

The interior of the Oriana was surprisingly cozy. Walls clad in cheerful pine gave the place a woodsy aroma. A tiny log burner dormant in the corner by the entrance. Two padded benches lining each side of the cabin, replete with hand-knit cushions and a folding table for dining. At the other end, a kitchenette boasted various herbs hanging in bushels. Racks of unidentifiable ingredients cluttered the walls, full of colorful pots and jars. Steps led down from the kitchenette; Robin’s quarters below deck, Eda assumed.

None of it was so interesting as the woman herself. Robin was willowy and elegant, somehow, despite her untamed waterfall of gray hair and kohl-lined eyes. She wore a simple russet dress and headband. Golden hoops adorned her ears and wrists, with a matching oval pendant upon her bronzed breast. Riverfolk traded in gold, Eda knew. They usually traveled in convoys, some hundreds of boats strong. But Robin was alone.

There was a strange familiarity about her—something both formidable and reassuring. An intensity. Eda sensed no malevolence, yet Robin’s presence inside this quaint cabin felt like a storm in a teacup.

Robin listened and poured tea while Eda regaled her with only the most pertinent details—careful to leave out any mention of Mr. Night.