Page 99 of Reap & Sow

Overhead, something shifted in the boughs of a birch tree. Eda did a double take. A large black crow perched there, eyes glowing like orange pearls in the commander’s torchlight.

Her heart thudded. She made herself look away.

Tenelle said, “Fine. The terms are these: You will meet me here two days from now, the eve before the Clerics’ Conclave. Sundown. I shall bring you what you need to destroy Lich’s Gateway.” She pulled on Eda’s ties. “And at the Conclave, we will set our trap.” The rope fell away. “Do not make me regret it.”

Eda clutched her sore wrists. “You’re letting me go? Right now?”

“I will say that your demon took me by surprise. He stole you away, and I was lucky to escape with my life. An embarrassing admission, but more plausible than you miraculously escaping the keep in two days’ time. Getting you out of there would be far more vexing.”

“…Thank you.”

“I do this for Blackbridge, girl. Uphold your end of things, and I will see the charges against you dropped. Do not, and you will die on the end of my blade. That is a promise.” Tenelle stepped back. “The southern gate should still be open. Carry on this way until you find it, and get clear of this place. Now run.” She spun on her heel and drew her sword.

Tenelle charged back the way they’d come, shouting, “Men, to me! To me!”

Eda ran.

Twenty-six

When Eda finally dared to stop in a dark close between buildings, Kit swooped down and transformed. She knew it without looking, familiar by now with that gentle whisper heralding the change.

“Eda.”

She did not turn. Instead, she watched the tavern across the street. Men roared with laughter and jostled each other beneath torchlight. A frazzled-looking barmaid came out with two large steins, ignoring the whistles with practiced ease. Eda had always regarded such scenes with scorn. To work hard for your coin only to give it to the alehouses seemed foolish and vaguely sad. Now she understood why. Life was hard. For those unable to afford better diversions, being drunk made for a passing imitation of happiness.

At least ale was cheap.

“Can demons get drunk?”

“Eda.”

“You lot drink better stuff than watered-down ale, I imagine. Do you—”

He caught her wrist and spun her to face him. Kit was little more than a pair of glowing eyes in the dark, but they burned. He cupped her face.

Eda’s mouth ran dry.

“Who hit you?” Kit’s voice rang deep and cold as a winter lake. His thumb traced her red cheek, lip curling as though he wanted to bite something. She thought she’d seen him angry, but realized now that perhaps she never had. He was deathly still.

“It rhymes with bane.”

Fingertips twitched upon her face. “Tell me what happened,” he said after a short pause. “I came back to find fiends ripping apart the bishop’s men. What did he say to you? What did Baelion say?”

Eda scowled. “You were there.”

“You’re angry.”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I did not save you.”

“I didn’t need saving.”

“So it seems. Masterful, really, how you talked your way out of Tenelle’s clutches.”

“And if it hadn’t worked?”

Would you have saved me, then?