Page 91 of Reap & Sow

Kit’s thumb ran the seam between their clasped hands. “If we do find the Gateway, we should celebrate.”

Eda wondered where this was going. “I suppose…”

“Will you let me do unspeakable things to you in the flower beds?”

She nearly tripped. “You—you can’t just say things like that!”

“You’re right.” He tugged her closer as they walked, sparing her a wicked look. “Will you let me do unspeakable things to you in the flower beds, please?”

“This is hardly the time,” Eda said automatically, even as her head spun with incandescent visions. She discovered a newfound level of resentment for her circumstances, without which she might have hauled him into the chrysanthemums herself.

Kit sighed dramatically.

The groundskeeper was stooped with age and bore a slow, uneven gait. He didn’t go very far. Following a side path through tall yew trees, he approached a mausoleum nestled against the garden wall.

It was like a templehouse in miniature, no bigger than a one-room abode. Passing centuries had rendered it dirty and black between the stones. There was a pitched roof of overlapping tiles, green as fish scales, and a door set into a pointed archway. Above it, an elaborate relief was carved into the masonry—a small figure in robes. A saint. Eda wasn’t sure which. There were four mausoleums in the gardens, one for each patron saint of the city.

The groundsman paused. He tried the iron lock hanging from a chain about the door handle. It rattled but held. Clearly satisfied, he continued down the winding side path and disappeared through the trees.

Eda and Kit glanced at one another from behind a nearby maple, then made for the door. If the mirror was here, it was a sound place to hide it. Audacious, though, to hide a Gateway quite literally beneath the Blades’ noses. To keep it in the burial place of a patron saint…it was difficult to imagine any servant of the Faith sinking to such vulgar measures. Perhaps the idea hadn’t even occurred to Tenelle.

Eda fingered the aged lock and withdrew her knife. “I know keys would be quicker, but maybe you could use this—”

Kit swiped it from her. Checking the groundsman was out of sight, he quickly bashed the blunt end against the lock. It popped open at once, dented by sheer brute force. Such a casual display of strength was enthralling, muscles contracting beneath his sleeve, tendons bulging in his neck. Eda stared.

She’d kissed that neck. Felt those veins race hot beneath her lips, those strong hands trace her skin like a painter outlining his magnum opus. The sudden bolt of desire that splintered through her was nearly painful.

Kit cleared his throat. He was waiting for her to take the knife back.

Eda averted her eyes and did. “That works, too, I suppose.”

She pushed the door open. It swung wide under its own weight, and they were rewarded with an impenetrable archway of shadow.

No more room for fear. You’ve gotten this far despite it.

She made to enter; an urgent grip held her back. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s here,” Kit breathed.

Her heart skipped. “Don’t tell me the great Lord Ansellis is scared of a little mirror?”

Eda’s poor attempt at joviality went unheard. Kit had a nauseous mien, as though being confronted with the Gateway again had unmoored him—a long-forgotten nightmare returned to disturb his peace. Twenty years since he’d seen it last. Since he used it to escape Mr. Night.

Eda gently prized his fingers off her arm. “Go to Wolfram. He’ll alert Tenelle. Then find Lich’s contact at the Knight and Knave. With any luck, when his men come, Tenelle and the Blades will be waiting. All that remains is Fane.”

Kit turned one of those looks upon her again, indecipherable and piercing. She realized why with a cold lash.

Our Pact.

Eda had asked for his help in finding the Gateway; here it was. That meant it was over. Their deal done. Perhaps Kit’s ill countenance had as much to do with this as anything else.

Her years were his for good.

They stared at one another. Neither was wont to speak the truth of it aloud. “I’ll be fine until you come back,” Eda managed weakly. “I have the mantle.”

Kit accepted the sidestep. “You mean to contact Baelion. Tonight.”

“I—yes. I might not get another chance. You know this.”