These people are not your familia and not your— “Four fucking Daughters…”
Mia looked up, saw Sidonius stride past the guards posted on the bathhouse entrance. Shutting the door behind him, he stripped off and sank into the water, eyes wide, breathing quick.
“You seem of a mood,” Wavewaker said.
“There’s no ‘seems’ about it, brother.”
“What troubles?”
“Our fucking domina,” the big Itreyan growled. “I just heard from Milaini, one of the serving lasses. Leona has sent missive to Varro fucking Caito, invited him for evemeal tomorrow.”
“Why does she dine with a fleshpeddler?” Wavewaker asked.
“She’s planning to sell us to Pandemonium, why do you think?” Sidonius spat. “She’s already drawn up a list, apparently. Milaini saw it on her desk.”
“… Who’s on it?” Mia asked.
“Bryn, for starters,” Sid said, nodding at the Vaanian girl.
Bryn blinked, as if hearing the conversation for the first time.
“… Domina would sell me to Varro Caito?”
“She needs coin,” Sidonius growled. “She can’t afford a new charioteer to form a new equillai team. But after your showing at Whitekeep, you’ll fetch a fortune.”
“Who else?” Wavewaker growled.
“Bladesinger,” Sidonius spat. “Felix. Albanus. Butcher. And me.”
“She’s going to sell ’Singer?” Mia breathed.
“She’s going to sell anyone with a fucking pulse,” Sid replied. “She needs three thousand silver priests, and she’s thrown all in on you winning the magni, Crow. The rest of us are just sacks of coin to her.”
Bryn shook her head, whispering, “Shit.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” Sidonius whispered, gobsmacked.
“And what else would you have me say?” the girl growled.
“Say you’ll not be sold like chaff to die in Pandemonium,” Sidonius growled. “Because by the Four fucking Daughters, I won’t be.”
“And what choice do we have?”
Sid cast an eye to the closed door, lowered his voice further.
“There’s always one other choice,” he said.
A chill ran over Mia’s skin as she looked Sid in the eye. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning Executus is gone, and his lash along with him,” Sidonius replied. “Meaning these houseguards are softer than baby shite, and we’re full-fledged gladiatii. We could beat them to death with practice swords if we’d a mind to. Especially with surprise on our side.”
Wavewaker scowled, rubbing his chin.
“Aye,” he muttered. “We could at that.”
Bryn’s eyes widened, voice dropping to a furious whisper. “You speak of rebellion? Have you lost your mind? You want to end up executed at the magni?”
“You’d rather die in Pandemonium?” Sidonius demanded. “In case you’ve no eyes to see it, sister, this house is coming down around our fucking ears. I’ve a mind to absent myself before the roof falls in.”
“This isn’t right,” Wavewaker agreed. “Bladesinger fought with honor. Crow would be the first to admit she’d not have stood victor against the Exile if not for ’Singer, aye?”
Mia nodded slow. “Aye.”
“And now she’s to be sold like meat? Because her swordarm is ruined?” The big man looked to Bryn. “Your brother gave his life for this house. And this is how Leona honors that sacrifice? By hocking his sister to a bastard like Varro Caito? I’ll not stand by for this,” Sid spat. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Wavewaker looked to Sidonius, shook his head.
“Nor I.”
Mia licked her lips, spoke soft. “Hold now.”
The three gladiatii looked to her, waiting for her to speak. After the showings she’d put in at the arena, there wasn’t a one among them who didn’t respect her. And while she could see the injustice of it, while she knew that if she were in their position, she’d almost certainly be arguing for the same …
If the gladiatii of the Remus Collegium rebelled, she’d never see the magni. Never have her revenge. If she aided them, at best, she’d be a fugitive, on the run in a Republic where such rebellion was brutally punished. At worst, she’d simply be killed in the attempt. And if she didn’t participate, but allowed it to happen, she’d probably still be crucified by the administratii for belonging to a house in revolt.
But to sit back and do nothing while Bryn and ’Singer and Sid were sold …
“Hold?” Sidonius asked. “Hold for what?”
“… Let’s not speak hasty,” Mia said. “The wounds from Maggot’s funeral are fresh. I say think on it a few turns before we do anything rash.”
“Rash?” Sidonius scowled. “We’re talking about our lives here!”
“It may be fine for some,” Wavewaker said. “But not all of us are champions in the dona’s favor.”
“And that favor changes like the wind, Crow,” Bryn said, seemingly warming to the idea. “Look how swift she casts Arkades aside.”
“I only counsel patience,” Mia insisted. “Leona and Caito dine on the morrow, but no sale will be brokered for a turn or two. Domina’s blood is running as hot as the rest of us. Perhaps in time, she’ll see her folly and seek another way. Perhaps she’ll find some trick in her ledger that yet avoids anyone’s sale. I’m certain she has no wish to part with any of us.”
“If you think that woman has a hint of loyalty inside her,” Wavewaker said, “you are the fool I never took you for. Leona thinks of her own glory, none other’s.”
“Patience,” she begged. “Please.”
The three gladiatii looked among each other, scowling. But it seemed there’d be no more argument for the moment, each falling into a sullen, scowling silence. And with little else to say and no comfort to offer, Mia finally climbed out of the bath and toweled herself off, tying her wraps about herself and padding softly from the room.
Stalking down the hall to her cell, her mind was whirling. She knew she couldn’t allow a rebellion against Leona to happen—her entire plan would be undone if she did. But if she allowed the dona to have her way, if Leona couldn’t be swayed, Sid and ’Singer and Bryn were as good as dead. Nobody survived Pandemonium. Even the greatest warriors lasted a few months there, at best.
A slow quiet settled over the barracks, the gladiatii bedding down for the nevernight. Sidonius returned from the bathhouse, sitting opposite Mia in their cell. She’d not been moved upstairs yet—with all the drama of the last few turns, she supposed Leona had more pressing concerns than finding her new champion’s quarters. And so, Mia was still stuck in her cage. Feeling Sid’s eyes on her as the arkemical lamps were turned down, as the talk of the other gladiatii softened and then stilled, finally replaced by the sounds of sleep.
As always, the man stayed quiet when they were alone. Never pressing.
Simply staring.
Minutes ticking by like days. His blue eyes fixed on her.
Unblinking.
Mute.
“Black Mother, what?” she finally hissed.
“I said nothing,” Sidonius whispered.
“So you plan to sit there and stare at me all nevernight?”
“Would you rather me speak?”