Page 41 of Reap & Sow

“I know. I’d have to be the one to free them. Kit could be some sort of distraction, maybe. If he caused enough fuss, the Blades’ attention would be diverted. They couldn’t ignore a demon right on their doorstep.”

Robin looked unimpressed. “And what would your clever disguise be? There’s a good chance they’ll recognize you, and even if they don’t, they aren’t going to let just any old bugger wander into their stronghold. Least of all saunter back out with two prisoners in tow.”

Eda bit back her annoyance. It was too early for harrowing facts. “I know all that. Getting out is another problem, and I’ll come to it. First, I just need a way to get in. Lord Arsehole alluded to his ring last night. Apparently, you made it for him.”

Robin’s mouth curled. “He alluded to a lot more, from what I heard. All that chatter!”

“I said sorry for that. My point is that the ring conceals him from his—from other demons. I don’t know how you made it, but…” She hadn’t expected to utilize Kit’s aid this way, but she would utilize it.

“I know what you’re getting at, but a Ring of Shielding is no simple thing to re-create. It took weeks to craft. Weeks you don’t have. It works for Kit’rath because he’s a demon; they can sense one another from some distance. They’re rather like animals in that way. All the ring does is muffle his demonic signature so that others cannot sense it. It offers no protection against humans.” She sipped her tea again. Eda glared at her, wishing she’d hurry up. She was inclined to question how Robin gained such esoteric knowledge but didn’t wish to look a gift horse in the mouth. “You’re asking for something that would disguise you, a human, from other humans. Something that would hide you from sight rather than sense, which is rather more difficult.”

“But can you do it?” Eda pressed. “Is it possible?”

Robin played with the golden pendant about her neck. “It’s possible.”

“How long would it take?” She’d read a little on alchemy. Demons might bend gravity and change shape with nary a thought, but for mortals, the process was rather more involved. Magic could only be wielded in the same way food was crafted from raw ingredients—with time, care, and careful application.

“I could not say how long. To craft something suited to your needs would require intense work…and blood.” Robin’s eyes gleamed with a strange light. “Are you willing to pay the price?”

Eda gripped the table. I’ve already paid the highest one there is. “Tell me what you need.”

Twelve

For the next three days, Robin holed herself up in her bedroom, emerging only to eat and check on Old Bastard. Her hands quickly turned inflamed and raw. Eda asked more than once what she was making; Robin told her to keep her nose out.

In the meantime, Eda was put to work.

Creeper vines, she groused to herself, trudging through a nearby copse of trees. What does she need creeper vines for? Eda was no country woman. She’d hardly stepped foot outside Blackbridge; her knowledge of Wesland’s native flora was wanting at best. Yet every day she’d been sent out foraging, either for plants or feathers or some other mundane, decidedly nonmagical thing.

Eda liked the open space. She liked the fresh air, so crisp compared to the cloying smog of the city. She liked the sounds of birds in the trees and water sloshing against the Oriana’s hull. She did not like being an errand girl, she decided, nor rooting around in the dirt like a pig looking for truffles. Especially when it became increasingly unclear what exactly she was doing it all for.

Robin was crafting something, and Eda was grateful, but she couldn’t bear the waiting. She doubted it was a ring. Some sort of clothing, perhaps? Or a potion that would turn her invisible? She’d witnessed a demon transforming into a menagerie of animals; anything was possible.

Eda found the creeper vines after an hour of searching: dark, rubbery tendrils choking a half-dead ash tree near the center of the copse. She drew a knife from the pocket of the skirt Robin had lent her—her own clothes still drying from their much-needed wash—and began cutting them away as directed, carefully arranging long spools into her wicker basket. Maybe this is what it’d be like, Eda thought bemusedly. To be a provincial farmhand or one of the riverfolk. Get up, have breakfast, gather herbs and plants for brewing…

If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend this was her life. She liked being among nature, she decided, even if she’d yet to truly understand it.

Eda trudged back toward the river and down the gently sloping bank. There she nearly tripped over her own feet in astonishment, for Kit lay stretched out on the bow of the Oriana like a cat basking in the midday sun. It was a fine day for autumn and mild enough to work up a sweat in direct sunlight. Perhaps that was why his shirt gaped open to the navel.

Eda’s stomach fluttered at the sight of him, so uncontrived in his own splendor. She could not deny that he was beautiful. It made her teeth ache.

“You could help, you know,” she said, trying valiantly not to stare. Eda hauled herself onto the gunwale and shuffled toward the bow so that he might properly appreciate the full force of her glare.

She needn’t have bothered. Kit had procured himself proper footwear over the last few days and apparently a set of tinted eyeglasses, too. Only the very rich could afford such things, and these looked expensive—dark as oil smoke and perfectly round, capped on the edges to better shield the eyes. He notched them down and raised an eyebrow at her. “Remarkable hair you have. It appears to have expanded since I last saw it.”

“Because I’m run ragged doing all the work!”

He crossed his hands behind his head. “I’m not suited to manual labor.”

“And I am? The lowly mortal down where she belongs, rooting around on her knees in the dirt?”

“No one gets on their knees for me unless they wish to, darling, I assure you. Perhaps if you asked for my help politely…”

She could throttle him. Traitorously, she found herself surveying the topography of his body instead. Kit was slender yet hard with understated muscle. Sunlight illuminated his sandy-gold skin, casting shadows across rolling abdominals.

Eda had seen Ben and Lawrie naked countless times growing up. The male body was no stranger to her. But Kit was not her brothers—she couldn’t remember ever being so painfully aware of another’s physicality before. Even Wymond, her first and only lover, had not looked like this.

She bit her lip. Eda remembered what it felt like to lie with a man. Fevered kisses. Warm hands tracing her inner thighs and breasts, a hard body pressed against hers. Breathless, giddy laughter shared in the dark. Her romance with Wymond had been brief but precious, and her heart still ached whenever she caught herself recalling his warm eyes and loving hands.