Kit’s tail hooked.
“Sit.” Nick gestured to the chair. “Mini’s going to draw the symbol on you.”
Kit obediently sat. “Not you?”
“I can’t draw to save my life,” Nick replied. “Mini, draw it… Where’s somewhere the ink won’t get wiped away?” He scanned Kit. Despite the warm weather, Kit was, as always, wearing a silky long-sleeved shirt. Nick guessed Kit wore the long sleeves for the same reason he wore gloves; the only meagre protection he could manage from Desre. “Here, maybe?” Nick indicated his own upper forearm. He winced before saying, “You’ll have to let him touch your skin for this.”
Kit and Mini looked at one another. Nick hoped there was enough trust between them for Kit to let Mini do it. Mini clasped the quill and raised his chin, determined.
“He’s basically your shadow. An extension of your own body,” Nick said. A wicked-smart kid who hero-worshipped Kit. One who did everything within his power to try to help Kit. “You picked him to watch the rowboat because you trust him.”
Kit’s eyes darted to Nick, wide and blue and afraid. “I picked him because he was up to the task.”
“He’s up to this one too.”
Kit’s exhale was overly controlled. He reached for himself, methodically folding his silky sleeve over itself until his forearm was clear. Mini moved quickly. He placed the inkpot on the edge of the table and drew test lines on parchment to correct the ink flow. Mini then braced his elbow against his own knee and drew without so much as brushing a finger against Kit’s skin. Mini’s face was a mask of determination, and the little, perfect, brilliant overachiever copied the symbols wonderfully.
Kit peered at the symbol and then at Nick, a question in his eyes.
Nick stared back, realising a crucial problem with this plan. “I don’t know how to test if it works,” he admitted.
Kit grimaced. “I will find out soon enough.”
Chapter Fifteen
Nick watched through the porthole as a grey mound turned into a busy dock. Among the familiar sailor garb were men in leather armour patrolling the pier, swords strapped to their sides, watchful eyes taking everything in.
Kit entered the room. “We’re ready to transfer over.”
Between two buildings, a pair of guards stopped, facing a figure tucked away in the shadows. Nick just made out the flick of a thin tail. A kit.
“Transferring to what?” Nick squinted, trying to make out the exchange across the distance. The lash of the kit’s tail was unfriendly.
“Captain Hin has a ship moored here suited to the river.”
The two guards backed away from the kit and moved on. The kit watched them go, and Nick swore his attention fixed on their ship before he slipped away.
“You’d better not make the kids row –” Nick turned and cut off. There was a length of cloth in Kit’s hand. A wound rope in the crook of his elbow. Nick fixed an accusatory look on him, but Kit weathered it without a flinch, though his head tilted in apology.
Nick grumbled as he advanced, thrusting out his wrists for Kit to tie. “Can’t you leave my eyes uncovered? Whatdifference does seeing make? I already know exactly where we are.”
“Orders,” Kit explained. But he tied the rope tight enough that Nick gave him another fixed look. Kit met his eyes. “If you run,” he said. “I am under strict orders to chase you.”
“There’s an entire crew of you. I wouldn’t exactly get far if I tried to escape.” Nick had already worked out that his best bet was to simply jump into the ocean and swim along the coast. Nick was reasonably confident that with his family’s help, he’d be able to find Kit again if he escaped right that second. Nick met Kit’s eyes. But he wasn’t confident he’d find himbeforehe was punished for letting him get away.
Kit’s lips quirked up, an amused touch to his lips. “I do not believe that would hinder you from trying.”
Kit raised the blindfold, but Nick stepped back. Having his hands bound was one thing; having his senses stripped away was another. “I’m not wearing it.”
Kit hesitated, eyes flicking to the cloth. “I had it cut from one of my shirts. It’s silk.”
“I don’t care if it’s soft. I care about not being able to see where I’m putting my feet,” Nick growled.
“It’s light blue. You will still be able to see through it.”
“Then I might as well not wear it.”
“Nick,” Kit said in a pained voice, eyes sliding away from Nick’s face. He never could meet Nick’s eyes when he was knowingly mistreating him. “I was ordered. She said –” He cut off in a hard swallow.
