The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

by Cat Sebastian

Percy rode like he did everything else—he was graceful enough to make risking his neck look easy. He was fast and lithe, and it was a pleasure to watch him. Even in his loose riding clothes, even with his hair tied back and tucked under his hat, the long lines of his body were visible. Kit already knew Percy was beautiful—had known it the first time Percy walked into his shop, and every further encounter had only served as redundant proof. But the pleasure Kit took in watching him wasn’t simply because Percy was beautiful, or even because he was talented. It was because Percy was Percy. He enjoyed looking at Percy for the same reason he had been frightened out of his wits to see Percy sword fighting: he just liked the man. Kit told himself that he liked a lot of people, even though he knew that wasn’t true. He told himself that it was nothing unusual to like a person, even if, on paper, every single thing about them was antithetical to one’s staunchly held beliefs about what a person ought to be. He told himself that liking didn’t mean one held any tenderer feelings, and neither, for that matter, did kissing. He told himself all of this and didn’t believe a word of it. He clutched the parcel he held in his free hand, and when the fog cleared, he stepped closer to the path of Percy’s horse. “Please watch your step,” called Percy, breathless and pulling up on his reins. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for bloodshed this morning.” Then he must have recognized Kit, becau...