The word was enough to freeze Kethri’s blood and nearly sent her tumbling off the stepstool. She braced herself against a strut instead, inhaled slowly, and carefully pressed the tack home. A small wooden charm was left dangling under the front porch eaves. “Si—Zerith.” Guns were inside. Her hands were shaking too much to aim anyway. Kethri climed down and turned to face the man, spine rigid.
He looked older than she expected. Still built like a damn fridge, Kethri thought, and the primal life treatment had restored his withered extremities, but something about him seemed... tired. He eyed her over.
“Girl. You been avoidin’ me.” His tongue curled around the crisp consonants and rolling R’s, and something in Kethri ached. She forced her ears to rise from her hair.
“I.” She stared at the man, and said slowly, “You kidnapped me. It was a very, very bad day. I do not wish to be kidnapped again.”
He scoffed. “Is that all? Not takin’ you anywhere, girl. Ama turned me out. Just want to talk.” A pause. “Man’s got a right to talk to his kin.”
A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble out. “Kin. You call me kin. You—“ She covered her face and forced herself to breathe, deep and regular, until she could control her volume. “Even leaving aside all of the—everything. All of the everything.” Her hands dropped away, curling into fists. “The torture, and the terror, and the kidnapping, and now you stalk me—“ Her jaw snapped shut with a clack.
“Yes! Yes I am!” Color flooded Kethri’s face. “I believe I am entitled to yell! You will leave, Zerith! You will leave and you will not darken my step again!” She stepped back, shaking, and forced some measure of calm back into her voice. “There are those who wish your blood. I am of a mind to let them take it.”
He eyed the charm hanging from the rafters. “Cranky. Got the belly ire, have you?” He continued over Kethri’s indignant sputtering, hooking his thumbs through his belt. “You look early for it, but Weave knows your ma got the feels somethin’ fierce when she was with you. Tell you what.” Zerith placed a small stone on the stool, inscribed with twining brambles. “When you come to your senses, set that out on the stoop. I’ll be watchin’ for it.”
Kethri’s jaw creaked. She remained there, still and silent, long after Zerith had vanished into the briars.
