Chapter 11
They walked back to Fairleigh Hall through a carved crystal morning. Sun glinted primrose from slumped snowbanks and puddles. Trees shook ice from branches and sat up like ladies dusting off ball gown skirts, ready to waltz. The sky hung overhead, brassy and blue and so clear Kit thought it might ring like a bell if tapped by a hand.
As he thought of hands, his own snuck into Harry’s, without conscious planning. Harry gave him an oddly shy smile, and wove fingers into Kit’s in turn.
As they approached the house, the front door crashed open. Edward Arden bolted out of it, managed to run down the lane without stopping, and panted, “Harry…”
“What are you doing up?” Harry flung arms around his brother, though; and they clung for a moment. “After that night, and the storm, you sh
