Page 45 of Reap & Sow

Eda tried not to stare at the black-tipped claws. Tried not to stare at any of him, but hardly knew where else to look. She hadn’t witnessed his transformation properly back in the city, and the reality was no less intimidating. She’d almost forgotten his true face. Whatever her own was currently doing, it made Kit’s smirk widen.

Robin rolled her eyes. “Unnecessary posturing aside…” She held up the knife.

Eda pulled her hand back on instinct. Claw-tipped fingers stopped her.

“Steady, darling.” Kit’s hand tightened around hers with surprising gentleness. Searingly warm. This close, she could smell him again: petrichor and wine, the primordial, wild scent heralding a coming storm. Lightning when it strikes the earth.

Robin took advantage of Eda’s shock; the blade swiped quickly across the back of her hand.

She gasped. It was a small but sharp cut that took a second to well, blood rolling down her knuckles. It stung fiercely. Eda did not consider herself squeamish, but without the adrenaline of escaping Blades to distract her, the sight of her own blood was hard to stomach. She stared as it dripped onto the cape Robin held, disappearing among the black feathers and vines. Don’t faint. That would be terribly embarrassing.

“Squeamish?” She looked up to find Kit watching her with an amused expression, but his words were gentle. “Keep your eyes on me.”

She did. He hardly flinched at all when Robin cut the hand holding hers. Despite herself, Eda curled her fingers into his, seeking his stability.

His expression flickered.

Robin whispered words that might have been Old Weslic, totally incomprehensible. The old woman was unnervingly still. A gentle breeze sent the candles flickering and stirred Eda’s hair. Kit’s focus drifted, following the curls as they danced. Then he seemed to catch himself, eyes snapping back.

“It’s done,” Robin said.

Kit released her. The absence left Eda cold. She flexed her fingers; her blood looked black as ichor in the moonlight.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now you test it.”

Thirteen

They followed the river back to Blackbridge, cutting through farmland to better avoid the steady stream of wagons on the main road. Eda wasn’t sure if the public knew to look out for a woman on a black stallion—it certainly hadn’t been mentioned in the broadside—but the Blades would. Until they neared the city, however, it was agreed that horseback would make for the swiftest journey.

Those five miles between Robin’s mooring and Blackbridge disappeared in an hour thanks to Kit’s long-legged trot. A few boaters cast curious glances, but otherwise their travel was undisturbed.

They’d been gone barely a week. It felt longer. Time moved like molasses on the Oriana, the bustle of city life so far away. Every passing hour weighed upon Eda as a reminder of Ben and Lawrie’s circumstances. Were they kept in some measure of comfort? Given basic amenities? Or were they shackled to a cold stone floor, beaten and abused? Eda had no way of knowing. She’d never seen the inside of Fell Keep nor the prison. She wanted to believe that the Blades were fair to their charges, but she remembered the way they’d struck Lawrie. How they’d shoved Ben to the ground like a corralled sheep.

Wait for me, she begged them silently. Just a little longer.

Kit’s power over his own gravity—and any he touched, it seemed—was unnecessary at their sedate pace. There was no need to pin her to his back as he’d done when they fled the Blades, but Eda was no rider. Even at a trot she vehemently wished for a saddle and stirrups.

She dismounted as soon as the city loomed close enough. “Thank you for the ride.”

Kit appeared sprightlier than the first time they’d made the journey, likely because he hadn’t wasted energy keeping her glued to him. His face was sly. “Of course. I doubt you’ve had better.”

Eda did not humor that with a response.

Joining the throng of traffic trickling into the city, demonic cat at her heels, her courage fled. They passed beneath one of the great overstreet bridges and were soon surrounded by dark stone and warped timbers, as familiar as Eda’s own reflection. But for the first time, Blackbridge felt foreign. Threatening. The rooftop finials were sharp teeth, the many closes and alleys fathomless, yawning mouths. Eda had always planned to leave the city one day. She thought she wouldn’t care if it ever became a stranger to her. And yet…

Besides those searing eyes, Kit looked like any other cat. He did not talk to her, so she assumed he couldn’t. It was comforting to have him at her side nonetheless as she carved a path toward the city’s heart.

Eda kept her hood drawn. It was hard to tell if the Mantle of Concealment was doing anything at all, besides irritating her with the lumpy way it sat over her jerkin and caught her hair. No one seemed to look at her, but that wasn’t unusual. Cityfolk were busy and Eda wasn’t outwardly noteworthy.

“How do I know it’s working?” she hissed.

Even as a cat, Kit’s expression was scathing. How should I know? she thought he might say. He trotted ahead, tail aloft. Eda was forced to speed up. His sleek body slipped deftly around pacing feet, under clattering wagons, and through groups of shrieking children. She was nearly jogging when she accidentally clipped a man’s shoulder.

“Oi,” a gruff voice snapped. “Watch where you’re…”

She turned, ready to apologize, but the man’s face slackened. Whatever he’d meant to say apparently failed him. Eda froze—he recognizes me, he’s going to call for the Blades—but the man’s eyes unfocused, like he was looking straight through her. He blinked and turned away as if she were never there.