Chapter 27 - Reap and Sow

Eda could not remember the last time she’d been afforded the luxury of coming to so naturally. She felt warm and comfortable. The meager daylight was so similar to her own room back home, she imagined she was still there. Any moment Ben would call her to breakfast, or Lawrie’s clumsy footsteps would shake her door as he passed.

But as she blinked awake, a huge bristly boar glared at her from above a banked hearth. Everything came rushing back: the bishop’s wrathful face, the fiends and their bulging, awful eyes. Mr. Night’s nose in her hair.

I can smell him all over you.

Kit.

Eda realized where the warmth was coming from. A strong arm had snaked its way around her in the night, separated only by the thin bedcover. She lay pinned against his hot bulk, back-to-chest.

She shifted. Kit huffed in displeasure. His nose buried itself behind her ear as he pulled her closer still. Goose bumps rose along Eda’s arms. He’s still asleep. She’d never seen him slumber before.

Carefully, she turned to look.

Kit’s brows came together as she moved, but he did not wake. His horn was pressed into the pillow. Silky black hair lay mussed by sleep, bow lips parted just so. She spied the point of a white fang peeking between them. His eyelashes twitched, long and dark.

Kit was beautiful in repose, all artifice stripped away. With no cocksure grin or sly smile to hide behind, what remained was a young man—youthful enough that she could almost see the boy he’d once been. The claws and tail could not hide it.

He must have been as tired as she, though he never said so. She doubted he made a habit of sleeping in the presence of others. But he did so now.

“Stop staring at me, you cretin,” Kit mumbled suddenly.

Eda jumped. “I wasn’t!”

“Were.”

She huffed and tried to pull away. He did not let her.

They were nose to nose when one fiery eye peeled open, pupil dilating. “People are put in stocks for spying on others like that. Sexual deviants, mainly.”

His sleep-roughened voice sent liquid heat curling through her belly. She cleared her throat. “You’re one to talk. What do you call this?” She poked the arm banded about her like steel.

“You required that I remain on top of the covers. The terms of the agreement remain intact.”

“How like a demon.”

“Mm.” He blinked lazily at her. “Do you object?”

“To your familiarity? I should.”

“How like a human.” His nose brushed hers. She shivered.

It struck Eda abruptly how domestic this scene was. With daylight spilling through the latticed windows and birdsong outside, it was easy to pretend. She allowed herself to indulge in a fantasy: That this fine house was hers, that she lay in her own bed with a man who loved her. Her husband, perhaps.

Eda had never thought much on marriage. Had long considered it out of reach, if she’d wanted it at all. Was it not just another Pact, a deal to be done? An offer of protection for hearth and child, a binding of families and wealth. She misliked the thought of tying herself to anything or anyone ever again.

Strange that here, where all was soft and sleepy as the dawn, the idea finally held some appeal. She stared into Kit’s glowing eyes. It wouldn’t be so bad. To bind yourself to something out of love instead of fear.

Eda’s gaze snagged on his broken horn.

Her kind and his were similar enough, but their differences could not be cast aside. Robin had warned her as much. Were demons even capable of loving as mortals did? Not for mere pleasure or guile or personal ambition, but simply because the heart demanded it. To love a thing against reason and above sense was surely the greatest weakness of all.

Kit’s grip slackened. His arm retreated from around her. Between one heartbeat and the next, his visage changed and he became mortal again—even his eyes. He sat upright and raked a hand through his hair.

Eda frowned. Had her brazen study offended him? She’d seen his true face many times already, knew it well enough to be unafraid.

Unless it isn’t me he’s hiding from.

It seemed startlingly obvious suddenly. His eagerness to show her the theater, his apartment stuffed full of art and clothes and beautiful things. The look on his face as he watched the sunset over Blackbridge. Eda thought back to that conversation, when they’d first ventured into the city together. He’d spoken briefly of how the human world had been a comfort to him growing up. I’d walk down dirty human streets and pretend. His meaning was clearer now than ever.

Kit wished to be human, whether he’d admit it or not.

He was hiding from himself.

“Food, I think.” He rolled to his feet, pensive look swept away. “You mortals need to eat constantly, don’t you?”

Eda stared at him. All that fae-like beauty, all that power…did it truly mean so little to him? “I suppose. What time is it?”

“Past luncheon.”

“Oh. I am quite hungry.”

“Of course you are, poor thing.”

Kit went foraging for food while she explored the rest of the room, hoping to find some sort of brush or comb for her hair. The dresser was empty but for a lavender bag and a little vial of what smelled like rosemary oil. There was a round tub behind a filigreed privacy screen, however, and she nearly bounced in excitement. Eda was desperate for a good wash. She’d never used a real bath before; standing basin and cloth were the only way she knew. But this house had a real wooden tub with linens on the side.

She scurried across the wide landing from room to room in excitement. There were two large buckets in the servants’ quarters, and a basic comb as well. Thrilled with her spoils, Eda set about relighting the fire. It was a relief to busy herself with such a mundane task. She did not wish to think of the outside world. In here, she could almost pretend it didn’t exist.

By the time Kit returned with an armful of food inside a makeshift bag, the fire was roaring admirably. He blinked at her as she gathered her buckets. “Is this some sort of chambermaid role-play?”

“Hush,” she scolded. “I’m having a bath. And no, you are not invited.”

“Not even after bringing you this?” He unwrapped the linen onto the rug. He’d found a selection of bread, cheese, figs, and even two apples. A small bottle of dessert wine completed the meal.

Eda gawped. “Where did you get this? There can’t have been fresh food in the root cellar.”

“The neighbor’s house. Their kitchen door was open.”

“You stole it? Someone could have seen you!”

“They saw a cat. Chased me out through the house. I circled back and took a few things is all. It’s not as if the flush bastards will miss it.”

Eda realized she might be at fault for his smugness. She really had to stop exclaiming over his every trick. What else might he do for me?

Coyly, she made a show of heaving the buckets in each hand. “Very industrious of you. There’s a well outside, I trust? I have to fill these up for the bath. It may take me a while, heavy as they are…”

“Please. I’m not some demonic serving boy, ready to prostrate myself to save your weak little arms.”

“You’re really going to make me fill them myself?” She lowered her voice. “The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can bathe.”

He glared at her, hand on hip. Suddenly he hissed and snatched the buckets. “I’m filling these up because I want to, understand? It would be painful, watching you trip and spill water all over such fine hardwood floors.”

Eda nodded. He slunk away with a grumble. Kit made short work of filling the buckets, and even found another by the well outside. They left all three by the fire to warm and sat together on the rug to eat. He contented himself with gnawing on an apple while Eda practically inhaled the rest. Something warm bloomed in her chest as she watched him, reclining there on his elbow like a prince among silks. Kit was cavalier as always, commenting on her appalling table manners and her shocking arrogance in using him like her personal errand boy, but there was no heat in it. He sounded fond.

He shoved the last of the figs toward her.

The warmth inside her spread.

Despite the much-needed reprieve from reality, Eda found her mind inexorably turning back to Tenelle and the Clerics’ Conclave.

“Without Lich’s mirror, Mr. Night would be trapped here,” she mused. “Wouldn’t he?”

“At least for a time. There are rumors of Gateways yet remaining beyond the borders of our lands, unclaimed by any of the archdukes. But only rumors. If Gateways were so easily found, I daresay my kin would have sniffed them out already.” He twirled his apple core by the stem. “Baelion may take up this search. Failing that, he’d try to use a passing point.”

“A passing point?”

“Places of natural formation where the veil between our worlds is thin. It’s said that one might pass through, if they wish it.”

Eda bit her lip. “Like the mountains north of Dawnmouth. That’s where they used to harvest the obsidian to make Gateways, but the mines are all empty now.”

“Such areas are known to my people. The old magicks required to craft Gateways are less certain. Mostly lost with your pagan ancestors.” His eyes glittered. “It’s a matter of some resentment, among my kind, that humans surpassed us in this way.” He didn’t sound resentful. He probably found it funny. Mr. Night, she’d wager, did not.

“Say we do destroy Lich’s mirror. If Baelion’s is destroyed, too, and he’s trapped here, is that really a good thing? Keeping him among us like a fox in a chicken coop?”

Kit’s expression darkened. “He will be enraged, for certain. I’d pity any in his path. But the fewer Gateways remaining, the less power he can siphon from Infernus. A demon entirely cut off from his homeland’s magic is weaker for it. He would be easier to withstand.”

Eda sat up. “That means you would be affected too.”

He shrugged.

“You wouldn’t care if you were stranded here, less powerful than before?”

“I’d still be more formidable than the rest of you,” he scoffed.

Eda rolled crumbs beneath her finger. She peered at him through her lashes. “Will you stay and help? I’m not sure how far I’ll get sneaking around under Lich’s nose without the mantle.”

His brow twitched. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively light. “Do you want me to stay?”

Eda swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then I shall.” Before she could ruminate on how easily he agreed—as though her wanting a thing was reason enough for him to give it—Kit tilted his face toward her. “You don’t have to do any of this, you know. Let your brother give his ten years. Be done with Baelion and be done with Fane. You could go overseas, like you said.” He sat up, suddenly eager. “You liked Viola and the Viscount, didn’t you? In Forisia they have the Orbit, the greatest theater in the world. Only the very best thespians perform there, with the most opulent sets. On the continent they have a traveling circus where animals dance as menfolk do, and in the deserts of Rakesh, there are bazaars ten miles wide. I’ve heard you can buy birds that lay ruby eggs and sing for hours without tiring. We could see it all, Eda. Wherever you want.”

His eyes ran bright again, perhaps without him realizing it—magma over dull earth. In his devastating, beautiful face, Eda saw what he did: a spellbinding future where the whole world was theirs, glittering and golden.

It was a fairy tale.

“A lovely dream, to be sure.” She could muster nothing more.

Perhaps you would be happy enough to flit away some careless years at my side. I imagine they’re a drop in the ocean to you. But will you still be there when my time runs out? Would you stay with me to the end? Or would you leave, before you had to watch the truth of what your Pact has wrought?

His bright expression faltered at her reticence. Eda avoided his eyes and gathered a bucket, glad to find the water sufficiently warmed. The silence was unbearably loud. Keen to fill it, she made noisy work of hauling the first bucket to the wooden tub. She arranged the linen, poured the water in.

Kit was too quick to forget the fragility of mortal lives, including hers. I am not his little human toy to play with until he tires of me. Better that he did not get carried away with daydreams. Better he grow disillusioned with her now and leave, before the loss wounded her beyond repair.

Before she fell in love with an impossible dream.

Eda scattered the buds from the lavender bag. She arranged her hard-won soap, comb, and rosemary oil where she could reach them, then lowered herself into the fragrant water. It was of middling warmth and only reached the undersides of her breasts, but it was a luxury regardless. She sank as low as she could to enjoy the simple comfort.

Kit’s footfalls padded about the room, nearly too soft to hear.

“Don’t peek.” The screen hid the tub from most angles, but her warning came reflexively.

The footsteps paused. “You do know I’m not actually a lecher, don’t you?”

Just like that, the tension eased. Eda sighed. All her logical arguments withered to dust around his wine-and-lightning scent, beneath the warmth of his regard. It would be better if he stayed away. But she did not want him to.

He groaned as though stretching—a low, satisfied sound.

Slow down, Eda willed her traitorous heart, wet hands pressed to her chest. You cannot thunder so every time he nears.

She knew that Kit heard her sloshing about—every little sigh and sound—but he honored her demand for privacy. It felt strange to be naked with him in the same room.

Thrilling too.

Time slipped past easily like that: the crackle of the hearthfire, the distant clattering of cart wheels outside, the sloshing water against the tub. She ran a comb through her hair one hundred times, as she’d overheard women advise each other. Eda figured out through trial and error that curly hair like hers must only be combed while damp and dried gently, or else she would look like a sentient cloud on legs. She allowed the warm room to do its work. Ran the rosemary oil through her golden ends.

Who knows when I’ll next be able to take rest like this.

The thought stuck, burr-like. Tomorrow she would throw herself into the den of wolves yet again. Lich. Fane. Mr. Night.

An end was coming like a roiling storm, and she had no idea if she’d survive it. But it was coming nonetheless. Eda wished this stolen moment of calm could last forever. Wished to go back to that feather bed and dream some more of dancing creatures on foreign shores.

She wished for Kit to join her there.

Eda imagined him through the screen—those hot eyes, that secret smile he only ever seemed to share with her. The fond drawl of his voice when he called her darling.

She gripped the sides of the tub. Closing her eyes brought flashes of memory: the fevered slide of mouths, claws tracing her spine, whispered words in a language she did not know but of a meaning she thought she might.

Heat coiled low. Eda pressed her thighs together to soothe the ache. For all his teasing, Kit had never once pressed for more than she offered. And for all her moral bluster, Eda often wished he had. She clung to vague propriety like a warrior behind a shield. But standing against what? The stain of intimacy outside the marriage bed? Her desperation for closeness had already pushed her into Wymond’s arms. The corruption of a demon? She’d been a sinner in the eyes of the Faithhood since the day her father’s debt became hers.

No. In truth, Eda wanted to throw down her shield. She only feared what the one who stirred her heart would do with it once it lay bare and bleeding before him. A heart is more valuable than any number of years, Robin said, and harder still to get back. Be certain of the one you give yours to.

“You’ll turn wrinkled as a prune if you stay in there much longer.” His voice was a low drawl. It sounded like he’d been drowsing.

Eda swallowed. She’d forgotten her clothes. They were still on the end of the bed. “You’re right.” Behind her, a single sheet of folded linen sat just out of reach. She could get it herself if she got out.

But the world outside was dark and full of jagged teeth, ready to tear them apart. Eda desperately wanted to keep it at bay a little longer. She wanted to hold this precious feeling in her palms and nurture it, savor it, before it could be snuffed out forever.

She wet her lips. “Could you pass me the linen, over here? I need it to dry.”

Silence. Eda heard only the crackling fire and her own pounding blood.

A rustle. He was on the bed, then. “I thought I was banned from that side of the screen.” She pictured him sitting there still as stone, suspecting some trick. Eyes piercing through embossed leather panels.

The heat coiled tighter. “Do you refuse?”

Another silence. Then catlike footfalls, slinking closer. Her heart tripped. It was the approach of a predator, cautious of spooking its prey.

He stopped.

Eda turned her back. “Just behind me.”

After a long pause, he slipped around the wooden screen. Eda stared straight forward, vaguely breathless. He was so close she fancied she could feel the heat of him. His silence filled every corner of the room, and she felt his eyes on her like a phantom touch.

Cloth brushed her shoulder. Eda reached up to grab it—her hand grazed his. He stilled. His thumb touched her nape.

Eda’s whole body shivered, and something deep inside her rose up, braver than before. She’d vowed to do something with whatever life remained to her. She’d promised herself she would act. And she did not want to die having never acted upon a longing so precious as this.

Eda stood in a rush of water. She turned, gripping the linen, just barely covering her lower half.

And Kit stared.

He was in his mortal form, but she’d never seen this expression in either—utter shock.

It occurred to her with quickly dawning horror that his reaction might not be a good one. What if he did not find her beautiful? Her breasts were not flawlessly round. The gentle dips at her hip bones did not make for a perfectly smooth silhouette. In the rush of cool air and Kit’s roving stare, Eda’s bravado wilted.

She almost wrapped the linen around herself, after all, but then he made a choked noise of protest. Kit swayed forward, hand reaching as though to stop her. He met her eyes. His pupils bloomed huge and black.

He looked like he wanted to eat her alive.

When his silence persisted, Eda managed, “No doubt you’ve seen more beautiful women.”

“I would not know.” His voice was all rocks and crashing seas, his every muscle tight with restraint. “Right now, I can’t recall any of them.”

She exhaled at the praise. “Tell me what mir’han means. Properly.”

He looked at her through sooty lashes. His throat bobbed, and it took him a moment to form the words. “It is…a name reserved for lovers. Literally, it means my own heart.”

Eda smiled and dropped the linen.

Kit’s jaw snapped shut. Still, he did not move.

She whispered his name.

He made another aborted move toward her. “I cannot—I’ve already taken too much from you.”

Eda blinked. Of all the ways he might have reacted, she hadn’t expected this. “You’re not taking anything. Pleasure is meant to be shared, isn’t it?” Then, coyly: “Unless you aren’t as capable as you say. You claimed once that you knew how to put your mouth to good use, but perhaps that’s all talk—”

Kit lunged.

Eda yelped in surprise as he hauled her against him. His hands were hot brands on the small of her back, her neck, the swell of her arse. He whispered something in feverish Infernal, and then his mouth was on hers.

How typical, she thought with amusement, that a challenge was what roused him to action.

Her standing in the tub meant they were of an equal height, and Kit took immediate advantage. He was everywhere at once. His mouth slid relentlessly against hers. He caught her lip, sucked at it until she moaned. His fingers threaded through her damp curls, around the base of her skull. The other traced the side of her breast. Not to be outdone, she kissed him back fiercely. Eda slid hands over his collarbones and under his shirt, delighting in the way he shivered.

His rumbles of pleasure were a revelation. She broke the kiss to gasp, but Kit was ravenous. He followed her retreating mouth, pressing forward—

Eda lost her balance. She shrieked and tumbled back into the bath, clinging to Kit’s shirt. He was dazed enough to be dragged in after her. Water splashed. They writhed in shock, limbs tangled.

Kit blinked in a drenched stupor. “Shit.”

Eda laughed. She tried to rise, but he was already curling around her like a giant snake. Kit dragged her close and kissed her again, heedless of his soaked clothes and hair. His mouth found her jaw, her ear. He bit it gently. She gasped. He worried the skin beneath with wet, open-mouthed kisses, moving down her throat. Lower. Lower still.

When his mouth found her breast, Eda stopped thinking. He nuzzled the soft skin there, tracing around the sensitive peak with his lips but never touching, over and over. His hand came up to subject the other to the same torment. She thought she might lose her mind. Lust was a cloud, heady and agonizing and wonderful.

“Kit,” she begged, “please—”

His mouth found her nipple at once. His fingers rolled the other. Eda moaned loudly, which she might have been embarrassed about if she weren’t so desperate for him to continue. She was embers bursting into a roaring tower of flame, spreading—a boiling ocean into rivers into streams, burning through every limb. It felt incandescently good to be selfish like this. To have something that was hers alone. To have him.

She ran fingers through his wet hair. He groaned. She tightened her fist. He hissed. It was cramped in the cooling tub, and Eda’s hip ached where she had fallen. But there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Except…

“The bed,” she gasped, feebly trying to pull his head from her breast.

Kit growled in displeasure and shook her off. “I’m quite comfortable here.” He flicked his tongue—Eda’s eyelids fluttered.

“Well, I could be comfier.” She tugged again. Her voice and grip were weak, but he heeded her. In a rush she was scooped up, water dripping from them both. Kit crossed the room so quickly it took her breath away. She was thrown onto the bed, still bouncing when he crawled over her.

“We’ll—we’ll get the bed wet.”

“Fuck the bed.” He moved to kiss her again.

She stopped him. Tugged at his wet shirt. “Off.”

He shed it with comical haste. His trousers went next, and then he was as naked as she, resplendent in the dim light. He dragged her beneath him. Kissed her more slowly now: her neck, her shoulder, the space between her breasts. Every touch was fevered but measured, tangibly forcing himself to slow down. To take his time, as though she were something precious. Something he might not get again.

Eda cupped his face.

Kit stilled, panting.

“I want you.”

His eyes were low and dark. “You have me.”

“No. I want you, as you really are.”

His expression shifted. Emotions rose and fell so quickly she could not discern a single one. He settled on something pensive. “I thought…that you would prefer this form.”

“It’s a handsome one, to be sure,” she murmured, tracing his lip. “But I would look into the face of the demon I lie with.”

Kit flinched at the word. Searched her eyes.

Eda met his silent question with resolute calm. “You are not human, and you should not pretend to be. You’re perfect.”

Something dangerously close to wonder transformed him then. He leaned forward and brushed his lips to hers.

It was gentler, warmer, more lingering than any kiss to come before. It tasted like a confession. A sacrament too precious to be said aloud. A ripple ran over her skin where they touched. When she opened her eyes, the mortal was gone. Gray cheeks were stained with a becoming flush, spreading to the tips of his knifelike ears.

Eda was helpless but to grin at the sight he made. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He kissed her again. Then he was moving down her body with newfound determination. Warm palms slid over her sides, her belly. Lips followed the path he’d made. His claws tickled as he parted her legs, gaze locked on hers.

Eda’s pulse galloped, and she had to tip her head back, unable to bear the frightening pit of hunger in his eyes.

Fangs grazed her inner thigh. She sighed. He kissed the other. She huffed with impatience. Finally, a hot mouth moved over her where she was wet and wanting. Eda grabbed his unbroken horn in shock, ridged and hard as bone beneath her hand. That only seemed to spur Kit on, and she was lost.

It did not take long. Eda might have been embarrassed about that, too, but the pleasure was too great, her lust for him too gluttonous. When her peak crashed through her like a cresting wave she cried out, shaking, but Kit only gentled his mouth without stopping. She had to push him away before it became too much. She was still gasping when he kissed his way back up her body.

He nuzzled her cheek. “Eda. Va kesh din.”

The words sounded like a supplication. Her heart filled so readily she thought it might split in two. “What are you saying?” she whispered.

Kit pressed a kiss to her temple and held it there, chest heaving. She realized that he was not prepared to tell her. Or simply didn’t know how. It did not matter, Eda decided. Not now.

She reached down and guided him to join her. As he pressed forward and gasped, shuddering in her arms, she thought that it did not feel like throwing down a shield. It was stepping into sunlight, without armor or steel or clothing at all.

And what a lovely thing, to burn.