Chapter 23 - Reap and Sow

“Are you angry?”

Meeting Ben’s incredulous glare over the table that morning was worse than she’d imagined. Lawrie had been put in Robin’s bedroom so he might rest—an unexpected kindness that made her want to squeeze the woman tight. With Robin out gathering mint for her tea and Lawrie below deck, it seemed the right time to talk.

Ben’s silence was not encouraging.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I have to do this,” she continued.

“Why? Why, exactly, must you do it? Forget Fane, forget Lich, forget all of it. We can be on a boat and headed for the Slumbering Gulf by tonight if we leave now—”

“And what about Mr. Night? We still owe him ten years.”

His mouth snapped shut. “I’ll give him ten of my own. We just need to find him and have it done with.”

“You can’t do that, Ben.”

“But you can?” His hazel eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare, Eda. Not after what you gave up.” He glanced toward the cabin door, where Kit was lurking somewhere beyond. At least he’d granted them the illusion of privacy.

“Look. Severin Lich has contacts from here to the continent. If I don’t make good on our deal, he’ll be hunting me down like a dog after a hare. That ire might extend to you and Lawrie even after I’m gone. The sensible thing to do is get him the mirror. Once we have it, we can use it to contact Mr. Night about our debt.”

“And expose the bishop for being a demon-consorting knave like the rest of us. Right.” His fists clenched white either side of Robin’s painted teapot. “That’s sensible, is it?”

“It’s risky, but we need to fulfill our Pact. We need the mirror. If we can connect it to Fane, so much the better.”

Ben’s expression wavered. “We could still leave. Mr. Night hasn’t called on you—on any of us—since we were captured. He can’t; the Pact was Father’s. Our blood was never spilled. He can’t find us without it.”

“If Lich can track us down the old-fashioned way, you think a demon like Mr. Night can’t?” His surly glare was answer enough. “Ben, please. We aren’t safe from anyone until we fulfill the deals we’ve made. If we can make Fane pay for everything he’s done while we’re at it…we have to try.”

He shook his head. “Haven’t you learned anything? When we don’t keep our heads down and stay the course, bad things happen. Or have you forgotten our imprisonment so quickly?”

Eda clenched her teeth. “I suppose saving you will never make up for that, will it?”

“I’m not trying to shame you, Eda. You made a mistake. That I can forgive, so long as you’ve learned from it. I’m not sure you have.”

Less than a day back in his presence, and already Ben made her feel as she always had: the little sister in need of coddling. His minding chafed so badly that she’d become belligerent, foolhardy in her desperation to do something on her own terms, and she’d paid for it dearly. But Eda wasn’t being foolish now. She’d never considered anything so carefully. This was how they saved themselves. Why couldn’t he see that?

“You won’t stop me. I’m doing this for all of us, with or without your blessing. Kit and I are going back to the city.”

“You’re going to put your trust in him? Your Pact is the only reason he offers his aid. Demons don’t do anything unless it benefits themselves.”

“And up until now, neither have we.” She stood, picking up her new cloak. “He isn’t Mr. Night. I’ve learned that much.”

Ben grabbed her wrist. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. I have the mantle, and Kit can disguise himself. You’ll only make it harder for us to get around unnoticed.”

“I won’t leave you alone with him.”

“I’ve been alone with him for weeks. I’m still very much alive.” She pried his hand away. “I’m not a child, Ben.”

“I’ll stay here, then, shall I? Watch over Lawrie. One of us should.”

Eda slammed the cabin door behind her with more force than was strictly necessary. Ben was angry about the Pact she’d made. She understood. But it never occurred to her that it could make him unreasonable.

She stomped to the edge of the Oriana.

“Where to, darling?”

Anger fled, overwhelmed by the sight of Kit’s dark, striking figure waiting for her. Eda slipped her hand into his, thrilling at the slide of skin as he helped her disembark. There was something different in his touch. Before, it had been a mystery, a tantalizing question mark. But this morning there was nothing mysterious in the heat of his palm, the way his fingers curled around hers. The question had become a promise.

“Are you going to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping?” she asked.

“Would you prefer it if I did?”

They made their way down the riverbank and away from prying eyes. Eda tried to release his hand, as habit dictated, but this time Kit did not let her. His fingers tightened. Her heart fluttered as they walked. Kit’s injured arm was freshly bound beneath his black doublet, and he assured her it didn’t pain him overmuch.

Ben’s condescension still rankled. Eda was overcome by a sudden urge to do something—anything—he might disapprove of. “Are you well enough to ride?”

His eyes snapped to hers with sudden interest. “You’ll need to be much more specific.”

Eda huffed. “Keep your mind from the gutter.”

“Impossible. But yes, I can carry you.”

“Can you ride fast?”

“Are we in a great hurry?”

“No. But I’ve only ridden on your back while fleeing for my life. I’ve never had a chance to enjoy it.” Eda lowered her voice. “Impress me?”

Kit’s eyes flared like dancing flames.

* * *

Eda’s cry sent a flock of blackbirds scattering—a dark starburst against the watery morning sky. She might have been jealous, but now she, too, knew what it was to fly.

“Faster!” she shouted.

Beneath her, Kit shook his great equine head. Hooves pounded the earth. Clods of dirt sprayed upward in their wake. His haunches rolled like a furious black sea, but Eda hardly jostled in her seat. She dared not release her white-knuckled grip on his mane, nor relax her thighs about his middle, yet she fancied that she could. If she wished.

I won’t let you fall, he’d said.

I know, she’d replied.

They cut down the banks of the Embel like the wind itself. The rippling water blurred, and in its distorted reflection Eda saw what others might: a phantom steed with hooves that barely touched the ground, a golden-haired wildling astride. What would they think they’d seen? An innocent girl stolen by the kelpie to be his bride? A warrior riding into battle? Perhaps there was a little truth in both.

The birds chased them overhead, swooping and diving. The wind roared in her ears. Eda’s chest swelled. She sat upright and whooped with delight. No matter what comes to pass, I’ll always have this.

Kit slowed when Blackbridge’s jagged skyline grew large ahead. Buildings cropped up among browning farmland. The last of the wheat fields were being hacked away with scythes, loaded into carts in great bundles for winter stores. They stopped at the edge of such a furlong, behind a wild hedgerow just off the traveler’s road.

“Might I consider you impressed?” Kit brushed down his doublet.

Her flushed cheeks surely gave her away. “Decidedly.”

“Hm.” He stepped close. “Then I will claim my reward.”

I agreed to no reward. She did not say this. Instead she waited for him to dip his head and kiss her as he’d done last night, fizzy with anticipation. But Kit merely brought her knuckles to his lips. Looked up at her from beneath his lashes.

Eda’s heart stuttered.

I’ll take any of it, he’d said. Your anger, your disgust, your scorn. I despise every moment your eyes aren’t on me.

His infatuation was likely a fleeting, hot-blooded thing. Kit might be in earnest now, but Eda was no fool. How many times had a pretty mortal caught his eye? How many times had he whispered words of affection in a stranger’s ears, only for the flame to burn out as soon as it caught? Were she not looking down the arrow shaft of a short, dangerous life, perhaps she’d be more cautious. Resist indulging her growing feelings for a creature who could never truly be hers. It was a tragedy waiting to happen. Whether Viola and Crispin ever got their happy ending, Eda did not know, but she would not get to spend a lifetime with some great love.

And yet. Here, with Kit, when he looked at her like that…it felt so painfully close.

“Let’s go.”

Eda held the mantle about her throat as they crossed into the city. The Blades were out in force. There were three different barracks across Blackbridge—all of them must have been barren today, judging by the sheer number of patrols on the streets. After having two prisoners stolen out from under them, she doubted Fell Keep would be left so thinly guarded.

Her palms grew damp with every flash of red and silver, every clank of heavy boots. It was slow going on foot, but Kit wasn’t foolish enough to adopt his horse form. By now the towering black stallion would be a dead giveaway. He stayed close to her heels as a cat, which he seemed to like best.

Despite the sour tang of fear on the air, work still needed doing. Servants and washerwomen, cooks and dyers and laborers. A little boy stood on a street corner begging, proffering a worn bonnet for pennies. All commonfolk, braving the hostile streets while the nobles kept to themselves indoors.

Hungry bellies didn’t stop aching just because monsters prowled the shadows.

Perhaps this was why Eda felt snappish and ornery by the time they reached the High Governor’s house. She was ushered through the stately gates a great deal quicker than before. When she was shown to Abelard Wolfram’s study, Eda merely scowled as the door swung shut behind her. The room was as richly furnished and handsome as she remembered, all woven rugs and polished candelabras. The windows were pointedly closed.

Wolfram’s eyes widened at the sight of her–once they managed to focus. She hadn’t bothered to remove the mantle. Her plait was riotous from the ride. Let him see a witch if that will help him take me seriously.

“Do you mean to do nothing while Florian Fane’s monsters prowl your streets, High Governor?”

Wolfram’s lip curled. “Have a care, young lady. I risk much by even allowing you across the threshold.”

“Do you mean to give me up?”

“That depends entirely on Kit’rath. Does he still mean to threaten my children?”

Kit huffed. “I hardly need to. Come, Abelard. You can’t tell me you don’t want this little fiend problem dealt with. You care for Blackbridge. Florian Fane is an affront to your morality and a threat to your position both.”

Wolfram didn’t deny it. He smoothed the front of his claret-and-gold doublet—a color that only seemed to wash him out, Eda thought—and stood. He circled his desk. “What of your motivations, Kit’rath? Why do you chase the bishop’s downfall?” He looked at Eda. “Why does she?”

“The nature of our agreement has nothing to do with you. Trust that I would not be here unless I had to.”

Kit’s expression was so flat, his sardonic drawl so contemptuous, it was hard not to believe him. I would not be here unless I had to. True, yet Eda recalled the steadiness in his voice and the warmth of his eyes when he’d pledged to remain by her side—because she had asked him to.

Ben’s words echoed louder. Demons don’t do anything unless it benefits themselves.

Wolfram raised a hand. “Fine. Your machinations don’t concern me.”

“The bishop does.”

“Yes. That is why I’ve made inquiries.”

Wolfram had learned that there were those within the Faithhood who questioned Fane’s so-called divine power. More still that held his little ritual of protection in contempt. But the bishop was a favorite of the Patriarch himself, witnessed warding off fiends multiple times in public. A trick it might be, but it was a damn good one. Who would publicly accuse him of wrongdoing without hard evidence? Nothing less would stop Blackbridge from flocking to him now.

“Bishop Florian is clever,” Wolfram mused. “He’s worked quickly to gain the people’s favor, and public opinion is precisely where real power lies. The man would make a sound politician.”

Kit snorted.

“I’ve spoken with Martine Tenelle. She rather unsubtly tried to ascertain my mind on the matter. We both agree that Fane is suspect, but Tenelle will not act against a cleric of the Faith without evidence.” He glanced between them. “If you are here to offer it…I am listening.” Abelard Wolfram might have been a conniving man of questionable morals, but he was quick-witted. If he hadn’t been born a lowly tradesman’s son, perhaps he’d never have needed Kit’s help to gain his position.

“The mirror,” Eda said. “The Gateway that once belonged to me and my brothers. Fane won’t have let the Blades destroy it. He needs it to access Mr. Night.”

“Mr. Night?”

She flushed. “That is…the name of the demon he bargains with. The real power behind the fiends.”

Wolfram stared at her, calculating. Eda waited for him to ask how she knew this, but he merely raised his chin. “Why not lure and kill this demon, then? Seems a far more direct method of ending the madness altogether.”

Kit stiffened. “That is not a fight you will win.”

“Surely, with Tenelle and the entire might of the Blades—”

“You will not win.”

“…Very well. This Gateway, then. You’re certain the bishop is hiding it?”

Eda nodded. “He must be. Somewhere safe. If we find it, we can prove he’s been keeping it for himself.”

“Mm. According to Tenelle’s reports, the thing was never successfully recovered from your family shop.” He noted Eda’s surprise. “Florian claims that while waiting for reinforcements, a demon crossed through and attacked his men. They were forced to retreat. Upon their return, they found the Gateway missing. The Blades in his company corroborated the story. Tenelle was obliged to accept it, but I believe this is what first roused her suspicions of him.”

Fire lashed in Eda’s chest. “That’s horseshit. Those men are on his payroll!”

“Perhaps. It’s all conjecture. The facts are these: The mirror is unaccounted for, and finding it is not enough. Fane must be connected to it—and Tenelle the one to discover him.”

He was right. If the Gateway could be located and the bishop with it, the commander would witness his guilt with her own eyes. The Patriarch himself couldn’t ignore such a condemnation.

Eda smothered a grimace. Should Tenelle take the mirror, Lich would consider Eda’s side of their agreement unfulfilled. How would she contact Mr. Night to finish their Pact then?

Debts upon debts.

She eyed Wolfram. “This plan involves getting Commander Tenelle to work alongside us.”

“Alongside you, who just broke out two prisoners from under her nose and flagrantly consorts with a demon yourself. Yes.” He smiled wryly. “Quite the predicament.”

“Can she be convinced?”

“I suspect her desire to unearth the culprit supersedes her pride, but I must pose the idea carefully. Your plan is sound: find the mirror, inform the commander. The Blades can lie in wait and catch Fane red-handed. Help us to stop this bishop’s bloodletting, and I will do my best to have the charges against you and your family dismissed, Miss Shaw. You’d be a free woman.”

Eda swallowed. If I let Tenelle have the mirror, Ben and Lawrie will be free. But that means spurning Lich.

Her mind spun furiously. She could see no clean way out of this, but finishing her business with Mr. Night once and for all was most pressing. “All right,” she said. “Tenelle must have some idea of where Fane might be hiding it.”

“All the attacks have taken place within city limits,” Kit said. “If the bishop controls the fiends, where do they go once they’re done sowing their terror? The mirror is their genesis. It must be somewhere in Blackbridge, away from prying eyes. Not on holy grounds, I’d wager.”

Wolfram nodded. “Templehouses boast warning fires and enchantments meant to draw attention to demonic activity. But…Florian is predictable. Tenelle tells me that he journeys only between Fell Keep, the Great Templehouse, and his local Crowgate parish.”

Eda bit her cheek. “Then somewhere between the three could be our Gateway.”

“Likely. The commander’s people cannot follow him everywhere. Not without alerting him to their observations. Perhaps a shape-shifting demon and a girl with a magic cape will fare better.”

She ignored his scathing tone. “We’ll find it.” We have to.

The High Governor’s expression was unreadable. “For your own sake, Miss Shaw…I pray you do.”