Chapter 35 - Reap and Sow

It was a crisp autumn morning, and for the first time in years, the Shaws stood together over their parents’ graves.

The harvest season had taken root at last. Leaves of copper and gold fell in a gentle turbulence, whipping through the headstones and about their feet. The sky was overcast, but the air smelled sweet—fallen fruit and honey brittle.

A time of dying. Or simply one of change.

“I’m surprised you managed to find any,” Lawrie said, nodding at the damp water lilies in her arms. “Thought they’d die off in this cold.” It had been little over a week, and he was still frail, but Lawrie grew stronger every day. The infection had passed. It remained to be seen whether he’d one day lose the stick that kept weight off his bad leg.

“They’re persistent little buggers,” Eda said.

On her other side, Ben snorted. “Like us, then.”

Crowgate’s templehouse was unchanged from her last visit all those weeks ago, when Florian Fane had first arrived. The same discolored limestone and leering gargoyle, the same iron gate and gravel path. But it seemed smaller, somehow. Unless it’s just my world growing larger.

That was a pleasant thought.

With great care, Eda placed a handful of colorful stems before her mother’s headstone and pinned them with a little rock. She arranged the rest in the same way before her father’s.

Her hand lingered for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “And I forgive you.”

She stood back.

“They’d be proud of you, Edie,” Lawrie said.

“They’d be proud of us all. At least, I hope so.”

“Course they would.” Ben rubbed his red nose. “We’re model citizens.”

“Ugh. I don’t like it when you make jokes. It’s unnatural.”

“Someone has to, Lawrence. You’ve been selfishly moping around recovering from your near-death experience.”

Eda smiled to herself as they made their way back down the street. The sight of her brothers bantering and sniping was one she’d feared to never witness again. But they were here, alive, if not a little battered and bruised. Should fate be kind, they would have a lifetime still. She tried to imagine them with gray hair and wrinkles; what a privilege that would be! Her heart swelled with the rightness of it.

At Shaws’ Antiques & Curiosities, Eda insisted on checking for anything she might have forgotten to pack. In truth, she merely wished to indulge in another tour. She wandered through the tiny kitchenette, the cramped solar and its old hearth. Her brothers’ bedroom. Her own. She lingered by her bed awhile. Touched the worn-thin pillowcase. Downstairs, she strolled along each stack, trailing fingers over books and shell collections and painted fans. Eda even stood at the top of the cellar door and looked upon the place where the Gateway used to be. But she did not go down.

“You’re acting like you’re never coming back,” Lawrie said when she reemerged in the foyer. He squinted at her. “You are coming back, aren’t you? You said—”

“Of course I am. I just…wanted another look.”

And so, with her travel bags in hand, they stepped outside. The doorbell chimed behind them. Wistfully, Eda wondered when she would next hear it.

She spared the shop another look: the proud oriel windows, the golden lettering above the door. The peeling green paint, which Lawrie insisted would finally be redone next she saw it. It had been her only home. It would always be her home. But for now, her path was diverging, just as theirs was. All of them could finally begin to live. There was as much excitement as melancholy in that.

They paid a few coppers to hire a boy with a mule and cart. Loaded up among Eda’s bags, they rocked together as they were delivered through the city. Eda tried to memorize that too. The cobblestones, the damp smell of the canals. The blackened stone and the spindly spires reaching for the gray sky. They crossed Saint Leoric’s Bridge. She admired the bustle of the portside, the algae-coated hulls, even the briny fish scent carried on the wind. She didn’t look away from any of it until they passed beneath the northern overstreet bridge and beyond the city walls.

The surrounding town thinned to scattered villages, and there, still in clear view of Blackbridge, they dismounted. They bade the boy wait. He agreed—for another copper.

The three made their way off the traveler’s road and through a busy livestock village. Embly, it was called, so named for its favorable position on the Embel’s bank. They skirted the edge of the village where snorting pigs and roaming chickens alone might observe them.

Eda scanned the stretch of river. He said it would be here…there!

A handsome twin-hulled barge in comely blue awaited them down the river path. Eda’s heart leaped at the sight of it. She found herself clutching the plain gold pendant around her neck. Useless now, so far as she could tell. But no less precious.

I hope you found your Oriana, wherever you are.

She had to remind herself to keep a sedate pace. Lawrie wouldn’t mind her going ahead, but she would not throw away these remaining, cherished moments with him. Eda hooked her arm in his. As they approached, a small figure popped up on the bow.

“Sire! Sire! She comes!” The imp scurried into the cabin, but his voice was shrill enough to hear through the walls. “The Lady Eda is here!”

“Lady Eda?” Ben and Lawrie exchanged a glance. “Thought he didn’t like you.”

“Helping to kill Kit’s usurper brother seems to have won me some measure of respect.”

Tripp had wished above all for his lord to be happy. And I make him so, she thought warmly, still overwhelmed by the idea. But some things did not need to be said aloud to one’s brothers.

The cabin door swung open. A lithe, dark figure stepped out. He saw her and stilled. Smiled.

Eda’s heart swelled.

They came to a stop. Ben put her bag down and pulled her to him. There had been a time when her eldest brother withheld his embrace, preferring to comfort her with words of guidance. But they’d come so close to losing one another. What could words tell her that the warmth of his arms did not?

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “With him?”

Eda pulled back and met his hazel eyes—so much like her own. “There’s no one else in the world I’d choose.”

“I suppose having a demon around is a rather prudent choice, if you really mean to go about destroying Gateways.” Lawrie frowned. “I still think it’s nutty. You’ve no business scouring the world for cursed mirrors. If there are more out there, there’ll be more Severin Lich types involved, mark my words.”

“I know. But if a couple of mortals like us can destroy two Gateways in as many days, so can Kit and I. It’s important, Lawrie. Demons have their world, and we have ours. As long as the two mix, lives will be destroyed by Pacts. I don’t want anyone else to suffer as our parents did. As we did.” She raised her chin. “I want to do this.”

Their expressions were grave, but she saw that they understood. “Don’t forget that I’m still relying on you as my supplier!” Lawrie said finally. “I know it’s just your cover, but you did always have an eye for a fine piece. I’ll expect you back here twice yearly in the capacity of my antiquarian merchant, with fresh product. You have to come home, see? Otherwise it’s just bad business.”

Eda didn’t miss his unsteady tone. She hugged him. “I haven’t forgotten, Mr. Shaw. Please don’t terminate my employment just yet.”

He cupped her head and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Be safe, Edie. We love you.”

Eda swallowed. “I love you too. So much.”

Lawrie covertly rubbed his eyes. “Keep something sharp on you around that scoundrel, though. In case he gets handsy.”

Ben nodded. “That’s right. If he ever makes you cry, get the silverware out and shove it up—”

“Thank you both for your sage advice.” Eda laughed. “Now might be time to remind you that he can hear us.”

They looked sharply toward the boat, where Kit was crouched petting Old Bastard. He tipped his fingers in a shit-eating salute.

“Saints, that gives me the shivers.”

They hugged again, and Eda finally made herself depart. She carried her little bags down the riverbank. Before she could take a single step onto the Oriana’s wide deck, Kit swooped toward her with deadly precision and scooped her up, bags and all. She shrieked. Then she was safely on board with his arms around her.

“Didn’t you hear what Lawrie said about being handsy? You’re asking for trouble.”

“Something about spoon-related violence, yes. I shall restrain myself before they descend with an entire cutlery drawer.”

Kit’s human form remained as devastatingly handsome as his demonic one. The slope of his jaw, the wry bow of his mouth. She couldn’t resist reaching up to brush aside his hair where it threatened to hide his glowing eyes. He tilted into her touch—a plant yearning toward the sun.

They’d hardly seen each other this past week, what with her back home and him here, seeing to Robin’s beloved barge. Since the Gateway shattered, Kit found it difficult to shift between forms. He was loath to leave her side, but his mortal form was taxing to maintain, and it appeared Severin Lich would not be immediately seeking revenge for his lost Gateway. When Ben reported to Tenelle to discuss his first day as a recruit, she’d shared that Lich had seemingly fled the city overnight. The crime lord must have smelled the way the wind was shifting, she said. Without a Gateway to keep the favor and protection of the upper-city nobles, he’d cut his losses. There were other cities to conquer.

Ben was to live in the Order’s barracks while he trained. Lawrie would keep the shop. Eda misliked the thought of Lich or any other scattered adversaries returning to Blackbridge and exacting revenge, but her brothers hardly needed her protection. Ben and Lawrie are trusting me to make my own way. I must do the same for them.

“Have you prepared for my coming?” she teased Kit. “Fluffed the cushions, aired the linen? I’ll be most disappointed if there isn’t a home-baked pie in there.”

“I’ve been preparing for your arrival, yes. As for your coming, we can certainly—”

“Stop it!” She covered his mouth. He kissed her palm, grinning. Kit scanned her face; always ravenous for her laughter, her smile. She tried to remain logical in lieu of taking him right there on the deck. “My brothers are watching. And Old Bastard.” She crouched down to pet the ornery cat, who sniffed her hand before permitting the familiarity.

“Lady Eda!” Tripp came scurrying onto the deck. He shoved Old Bastard aside and earned a yowl for his rudeness. “My lady, Tripp has overseen the cleaning of the human water vessel. Sire is not domestic in his housekeeping—as befits his great station, you understand—so Tripp lent his lowly guidance. It will suffice as a temporary abode, methinks. At least until His Lordship sees fit to return to the family seat.”

“We’ve been over this, Tripp.” Kit’s glare was withering. “I’ve no intention of going back.”

“Oh, you must take Her Ladyship with you, of course! Though I daresay it will cause quite the stir among the courts. But what can they do? Nothing! You are Archduke Ansellis, sole heir of House Ansellis—”

“Tripp.”

“M’lord?”

“Your visit has reached its natural conclusion. You may return in a few weeks, if you like. Or months.”

“Sire! Such a long time?”

“Tragic, I know. You will be missed. Run along, now.”

“Goodbye, Tripp.” Eda squeezed his bony hand.

He bowed with a flourish and, most startling of all, a smile. “My lady.”

The imp disappeared with a pop.

Eda stood to find her brothers still watching.

Kit said, “Are you ready?”

“Very.”

With a wave of his hand, the crank in the deck began to move, just as it had done for Robin. The waterwheels beneath them slowly spun.

“Her enchantments still work?”

“Lucky for us.”

“I’m glad.” Eda waved as they pulled away. Ben and Lawrie waved back. A precious warmth smoldered in her chest. “It’s like a part of her is still here.”

Eventually, her brothers became mere specks against the burnished brown countryside. The sun was nearly at its zenith, peeking shyly through thick clouds to bathe them in a rare pool of autumn sunlight. The river rushed and frothed about the hulls. Old Bastard peered over the gunwale, watching for fish.

And shrinking behind them was Blackbridge—that great, jagged spine along the horizon. A city full of dark alleys and twisting spires and hidden magicks. Her home. Against all odds, Eda was sad to leave. Strange that she should only come to see the merit of a thing on the cusp of leaving it behind. I’ll be back, she promised herself. No matter where I go, I’ll always come back.

But if the leaving was bitter, the going was sweet, for the world was crisp and changing and alive. Eda felt the lightness of possibility in her bones. A hundred different futures, and all within reach. Only one aspect of her fantasies remained unchanged in every version, and in this one, his knuckles brushed her cheek.

She turned to meet Kit’s eyes—a clash of earth and fire.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“I’m perfect.”

“On that, we agree.” He abruptly dipped inside the cabin, returning with a familiar bundle in his arms. “Here. Thought you might like it back.”

Eda’s eyes widened. “The mantle!” She took it from him, running her fingers over the tangled feathers and vines with a wave of fondness. The chicken foot clasp was missing—torn off when Fane’s men ripped it from her—but otherwise, the cape appeared intact. “How did you get it?”

“I went back to the mausoleum. It was still there, gathering dust in the corner.”

She hugged it to her chest with one hand and cupped the swell of his cheek with the other. “Thank you.” Then, more softly: “Mir’han.” She’d never called him that before. Wanted to taste the shape of the word.

Kit’s lips parted. A raw, wonderstruck look came over him. He took a moment to gather himself. “Mir’han.” He took her hand. Pressed something into her palm.

Eda blinked at it. “Your Ring of Shielding.”

“Hold on to it for me.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“If we ever face more of my kin, I’ve no intention of hiding.” He closed her fingers around the ruby-inset band. “I want you to have it.”

Eda tucked loose hair behind her ear and chuckled a little breathlessly. “I don’t suppose you know about the significance of a man giving a woman a ring in this world. It usually means—”

“I know what it means,” Kit said. His eyes were very dark.

Eda stared.

His face dipped close. “Now, please let me kiss you properly, darling, before I start reciting awful love sonnets.”

Her grin was a wide, wild thing. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Later, then.” He guided her close, until she pressed flush against him. His touch warmed her as sunlight never could. “But for now…I hope it’s enough to tell you that I love you beyond all else. In this world, or mine, or any other.” He brushed his lips to hers. “Is that enough?”

Eda kissed him.

It was.

* * *

Later, of course, when everything tastes of ash and her heart lies cleaved in two, she will look back on this moment and wish desperately to have stayed within it forever—like a dragonfly in perfect amber. But that isn’t how the story goes.

And even magic cannot turn back time.