Page 44 of Reap & Sow

Kit picked at his nails, hip cocked. They were waiting for Robin to unveil her creation in a candlelit circle beneath the trees; the old woman’s stooped form was draped in shadow as she unwrapped it.

Eda knew she should pay more attention, but she still smarted from her unforeseen trip into the Embel the previous day—Kit’s darkly satisfied smirk, leering down at her from the boat.

You saints-damned arsehole! she’d raged as she pulled herself onto the riverbank, dripping wet. What if I couldn’t swim?

Then I suppose I would’ve had to fish you out, he said. Either way, I make my point.

If Kit felt the burn of her glower now, he did not acknowledge it.

Robin had instructed them to join her here in the copse once the moon reached its zenith. Eda still had no idea why.

“A bit much, Robin, isn’t it?” Kit said. “The candles, the moonlit woods. You say you’re no witch, but you’re certainly living up to the stereotype.”

“Be quiet.” The old woman was vaguely breathless as she straightened. “Things must be done a certain way, or else all my work is for naught.”

And with that, she held up a short, tangled cape.

At least, Eda thought it was a cape. In the warring spill of moonglow and firelight and shadow, it looked almost formless—a garment made of natural things. She recognized various items she’d gathered herself: leaves and bird feathers sewn into an intricate web of creeper vines that would hang jagged, around elbow-length. Holding it closed at the throat, a dried chicken’s foot had been sewn on, bent unnaturally to hook through the other side.

It was grim. It was bizarre. It was…

“That’s the ugliest garment I’ve ever seen,” Kit cried, delighted. “She’s got to wear that? Ha!”

“It is not made to draw the eye,” Robin said curtly. “Quite the opposite.”

Eda swallowed. “So…it’s done?”

“Almost.” Robin beckoned them both into the circle. Eda hurried to do so, Kit after a sigh of greatest vexation. She had them face one another. Then she drew a knife.

Eda blanched. “What—”

“Robin, you naughty thing. What sort of delightfully depraved ritual are you conducting, exactly?”

“This is a Mantle of Concealment. It is made only of hidden things. Leaves from the bottom of a pile, feathers from an abandoned nest, vines that grow only in shadow.” Eda’s lips parted, suddenly understanding the absurdly pedantic instructions she’d been given on her errands. “If all these are sewn together in darkness with no others to witness its creation, then all that remains is blood.” Robin met Eda’s eyes meaningfully.

Eda set her jaw. “What do I have to do?”

“Hold out your hand.”

Tentatively, she did.

“The other.”

She hesitated. Her right was already injured. “But…”

“I won’t cut in the same place. Trust me, you won’t want two damaged hands at once.”

Eda did as she asked, trying not to shake. Robin unwrapped her bandage, which had been serving to protect the newly sealed cut on her palm. Then she turned to Kit. “Now you.”

He looked affronted. “I beg your pardon?”

“The blood of the one who shall wear the mantle is required, but so is the blood of a magic user. Magical blood gives the charm its power. My own would be sufficient, but yours is stronger. If you want to fulfill this Pact to the best of your ability, this is the way to do it.”

Eda found herself smirking. The thought of Lord Arsehole partaking in even a fraction of her own torment was gratifying. “That’s right. This is how we get my brothers back. You will help, won’t you?”

Kit’s eyes narrowed slightly. All at once, a strange haze seemed to rise from his skin like steam, turning it ash gray. Sweeping horns materialized atop his head in a plume of black smoke. Knifelike ears poked through dark hair. When he stepped closer, tail swishing, she caught the flash of a sharp canine. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He extended his hand.