The old woman sat back at table. Chatter picked up among the acolytes slowly, the weight of what was to come hanging over each head. But soon enough, worry was buried under piles of food. The kitchen seemed to be pulling out all the stops in these last few turns, and plates were stacked high with delicious pastries and savories, fresh eggs, sizzling ham.
Mia had no stomach for any of it. Turning back to her notes and scowling. The formulae twisted and turned in front of her eyes, a headache slinking to the base of her skull and squeezing. She swore blue in every language she knew, Ashlinn watching her between mouthfuls and smirking at the more colorful curses.
“Tuhk a brmk mubbuh,” she said.
Mia glanced up from her notebook. “What?”
Ash tried to enunciate more clearly, treating Mia to an eyeful of her mouthful.
“Tuhk. A. Brmk. Mubbuh.”
“Black Mother, don’t talk with your mouth full, Ash,” Osrik muttered.
Ash took a gulp of water, scowled at her brother. “Funny. I told a handsome soldierboy the same thing last time I was in Godsgrave.”
Her brother covered his ears. “Lalalalalaaaaa.”
“Sang like a choirboy, he did. During and after. Luminatii boys get all the juice.”
“I believe I said, ‘La. La. LA,’” Osrik growled.
Ashlinn threw a bread roll at her brother’s head.
Osrik raised a spoonful of porridge. “Now you die …”
Mia intervened before full-scale war broke out.
“What were you saying, Ash?”
The girl lowered her second bread roll, raised a warning finger at her brother.
“I said you should take a break, maybe. All grind and no grift is no good for you. Stroll around with me next time we go to the ’Grave. I’ll take you to some of the Luminatii pubs. Let your hair down a little.”
“My hair is down.”
“Men in uniform, Corvere.”
“One-track mind, J?rnheim.”
“At least they know what a bloody comb looks like.”
Ash smiled sidelong at Tric, waiting for a reaction. To his credit, the Dweymeri kept his face like stone as he reached for a bread roll and bounced it off Ashlinn’s head.
“It’s all fine and well for some,” Mia muttered. “You’re leading Mouser’s contest by near seventy marks. You’ll finish top of Pockets for sure.”
Ash put her hands behind her head, leaned back and sighed. “Can’t help it if I’ve got natural talent. Steal the T-bone out of a watchdog’s teeth, me. Should’ve seen me lift Spiderkiller’s knives. Pure sorcery, it was.”
“I saw her face after she realized you’d swiped them,” Tric said. “You’re a braver sort than me, Ash.”
The girl shrugged. “All’s fair in love and larceny.”
“Two weeks ’til initiation,” Mia muttered. “Solis’s contest in the Hall of Songs begins tomorrow. If I don’t break this thing soon, I never will. No one has any idea who’s winning Aalea’s contest, and I’ve got zero chance of finishing top of any other hall unless I somehow lift the Revered Mother’s key from around her neck.”
“Maw’s teeth, even I’m not brave enough for that,” Ash shuddered, glancing at the old woman. “Hundred marks be damned. She’d kill you twice for even dreaming it.”
“So.” Mia began scribbling her notes again. “Here we are.”
“Aren’t you worried about writing it all down?” Ash raised an eyebrow.
“Why, are you planning on stealing this, too?”
“Damn your beady eyes, woman, I stole one lousy punching dagger from you. And I said sorry afterward. Anyone would think I’d pinched your beau.”
“… My eyes aren’t beady.”
“I’m just saying, be careful where you leave those notes,” the girl warned. “It’s not like business with Red or her boy is finished. Remember what they did to Lotti.”
Mia glanced down the table at Jessamine and Diamo. Though she’d hatched a dozen plans to avenge Carlotta’s murder, Mia knew it’d be pure stupidity to act on them. If something happened to either of the pair, the Ministry would be knocking on Mia’s door ten seconds later.
Diamo was watching her between mouthfuls, Jess whispering into his ear. Mia idly wondered if the pair were fucking. They never showed affection openly, but parading weakness wasn’t Jessamine’s style. And though Lotti’s death lay between them now, though they’d never be friends, Mia found herself thinking about Jessamine’s father. About the Luminatii she’d murdered outside the Basilica Grande. How many more orphans had she created that truedark? How many more Jessamines?
Would the sons and daughters of the men she murdered look at her the same way she looked at Scaeva?
What was she becoming?
Eyes on the prize, Corvere.
Quashing her unpleasant thoughts, Mia turned back to Ash and muttered.
“Well, let’s wait until I discover the solution before we worry too much, neh?”
“How close are you?”
Mia shrugged. “Close. And not close enough.”
Ash nodded down the table at Jessamine. “Well if you do crack it, keep it secret. If that’s your only chance to top a hall, you can be damned sure Red will mark it.”
Mia looked up at Ashlinn.
“… Say that again?”
“Say what again?”
“Red will mark it …”
“… What?”
“Red dahlia,” Mia breathed, eyes growing wide. “Blackmark venom.”
“Eh?”
Mia thumbed through her pages until she found one covered in scrawl, ran her fingers down the notes. Ash opened her mouth to speak but Mia held up a hand to beg for silence. Scribbled a handful of quick formulae. Flipped back and forth between the new and the old. Finally looking up at the girl and grinning to the eyeteeth.
“Ashlinn, I could kiss you …”
“… I thought you’d never ask?”
“You’re a fucking genius!” Mia shouted.
The girl turned to her brother and smirked. “See, I told you …”
Mia stood and grabbed Ash by the ears, hauled her close, and planted a loud kiss square on her lips. Tric led a round of impromptu applause, but Mia was already scooping up her notes and dashing from the Sky Altar. Jessamine and Diamo marked her exit, speaking quietly between themselves. Tric and Ashlinn watched Mia disappear down the stairwell, Osrik returning to his meal and shaking his head.
“All over the shop like a madman’s shite, that one.”
“Good kisser, though,” Ash smirked. “I can see why you’re bonce over boots for her, Tricky.”
The Dweymeri boy kept his face like stone.
Calmly reached for another bread roll.
Mia spent the rest of the turn in her room, hunched over parchment with a charcoal stick between her fingers. She spread her notes across her bed, running through the concoction again and again. The evemeal bell rang and she stirred not an inch, smoking a cigarillo to kill her hunger. Mister Kindly’s not-eyes roamed Mia’s solution, page after page of it, purring all the while.
“… ingenious …”
Mia dragged deep on her smoke. “If it works.”
“… and if not …?”
“You might be looking for a new best friend.”
“… i have a best friend now …?”
The girl flicked ash at the not-cat’s face. She heard ninebells ring, the soft footsteps of acolytes returning to their chambers. Shadows passing across the chink of light seeping in from the corridor. And beside them, a folded sheaf of parchment, slipped beneath her door.
Mia rose from her bed, peered out into the hall. No one in sight. She picked up the parchment, unfolded it, and read the words scribed thereon.
I want you.
T.
Mia’s heart beat quicker at the words, wretched butterflies rearing their wings in her belly again. She looked up at Mister Kindly, cigarillo hanging from her lips. The not-cat sat on the bed, surrounded by her sea of notes. Saying not a word.
“I’d have to be a complete idiot to sneak out after ninebells again.”
“… especially the very eve before solis’s contest …”
“I should be getting my sleep.”
“… love makes fools of us all …”
“I’m not in love with him, Mister Kindly.”
“… a good thing it appears that way to everyone around you, then …”
Gathering up the loose pages scattered across her bed, Mia tucked them into her notebook and bound it tight, then hid it beneath her desk’s bottom drawer.
“Watch my back?”