But if her father hadn’t been the hero of the people she supposed him, if he’d only been trying to overthrow the Senate for his own selfish ends …
… what was all this murder and blood for, exactly?
No.
No, Scaeva and Duomo still deserved a killing. They’d still imprisoned her mother and brother, left them to die in an oubliette inside the Philosopher’s Stone.
“I will give your brother your regards…”
“I know what it will cost you,” Sidonius whispered. “To let rebellion happen under this roof. But think of Bryn. Of Bladesinger. Of Butcher and me. Do we truly deserve to die in some godsless pit because Leona hates her father, and you love yours too much?”
Silence between them, heavy as lead. Mia looked the man over; this man she’d mistaken for a lecherous fool, a thug, perhaps even the coward his brand told the world he was. She saw he was none of those things. But still …
“Why weren’t you there when my father and Antonius were captured?” she asked, her voice hollow. “Why aren’t you dead with the rest of their men?”
Sidonius sighed deep, hung his head.
“The Luminatii centurions and their Second Spears were informed of Darius and Antonius’s plan the nevernight after we mustered. Antonius made a grand speech, spoke of corruption, of hubris, of the Republic being under the control of weak and impious men. And when all the shield beating and chest thumping was over … I just couldn’t do it. The Republic is rotten, Mia, I’ll brook no argument there. A cancer eats at the bones of this place, and Godsgrave is the heart of it. Julius Scaeva is twice the tyrant Antonius would have been. But we were the Luminatii Legion. Soldiers of God. The war that would’ve come if we marched on our own capital, the suffering that would have ridden in our wake …
“Thousands would have died. Tens of thousands, maybe. And for what? So one man could wear a crown, and another could place it on his head? I couldn’t do it. I went to my centurion and told him so. He listened patiently as I tried to tell him the wrong of it. And when I was done, he had me beaten near to death, branded a coward, and sold off to the first bidder on the blocks.”
Sidonius shook his head.
“Six years in chains for one moment of principle. That’s the tithe I paid. But you know what I learned in all the years between then and this, little Crow?”
“… No.”
Sid fixed Mia in his ice-blue stare.
“There’s no softer pillow than a clear conscience.”
Mia sat in the dark, trembling head to foot. Tears spilling down her cheek. And without another word, Sidonius lay down in the straw, rolled over onto his side, and closed his eyes.
“Sleep well, Mia.”
CHAPTER 28
SCARS
“… this is unwise…”
“As you’re so fond of reminding me.”
“… if i don’t, who will? that fool eclipse…?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous of her and Ashlinn.”
“… it is a good thing you know better, then…”
Mia knelt in the alleyway, found the cloak Ash had left for her and wrapped it about her shoulders. Though skulking about Crow’s Rest in this heat while wearing a hood and cloak wasn’t exactly the best way to avert suspicion, it was easier than blundering around blind beneath a mantle of shadows.
“I need to talk to her, Mister Kindly,” Mia said, pulling the hood up over her head. “She’s been back two turns and things are moving quick at the collegium.”
“… once upon a time, you used to talk to me…”
“I still talk to you.”
“… mmm…”
Mister Kindly hopped up onto her shoulder, curled his tail about her throat. Mia made her way out of the alley, stalking down Fisher’s Row toward the inn. The hour was late, the winds blowing in off the ocean almost pushing her hood off her head. A few scattered folks ran about in their errands, and she could hear bells tolling down in the harbor, but aside from ne’er-do-wells like her, the streets were all but empty.
“All right, then,” she muttered. “What do you want to talk about?”
“… where to begin…,” came the whisper in her ear. “… that thing that saved your life in galante? your theory that the darkin are somehow connected to the fall of the ashkahi empire? the map inked on ashlinn’s back? and let us not forget your match with the silkling, and the second set of blades she so conveniently forgot to weaken…”
“Anyone could have made that mistake, Mister Kindly.”
“… you are a fool to trust her…”
“If Ash wanted me dead, she could have ended me ten times over by now.”
“… be that as it may, her involvement is clouding your judgment. there are so many questions about what is happening here, and you seem to be looking for answers to none of them…”
“There’s only so much I can do behind the walls of the bloody collegium,” she hissed. “The magni comes first. We have one chance at this.”
“… do you remember what that shadowthing in galante told you…?”
“That I should be painting the skies black. Whatever the fuck that means.”
“… it said your vengeance serves only to blind you, mia…”
“Are you saying I should forget what Scaeva and Duomo did?”
“… i am saying there may be larger things at play here…”
“You think I don’t know that?”
They rounded the corner to the inn’s back alley, the scent of garbage and rot in the air. Mia threw off her hood and Mister Kindly hopped down onto a broken crate, began cleaning his translucent paws as Mia continued.
“Look, I’ve felt like a pawn that can only see half the board for months now. And the questions in my head are near deafening. But all those questions will still need answers when truelight is over, and the chance to end Scaeva and Duomo will be gone. Our plan is one rebellion shy of ruin. Everything hangs on the next few turns.”
“… well, if thought of the gladiatii rebelling is all that troubles you, the answer is obvious…”
“O, aye? Pray tell, then.”
“… you cannot allow it to happen…”
“It’s not that simple, Mister Kindly.”
“… it is that simple. if you still wish your vengeance, you must win the magni. and you cannot win the magni if you have been executed for rebellion against the republic. you talk constantly of how much you have given up to get this far. you cannot fall now, at the last few feet…”
“So I’m just to let Sid and the others perish?”
“… they are not your friends, mia…”
“Who are you to tell me that?”
The not-cat tilted his head.
“… i am your friend. your oldest friend. who helped you when scaeva ordered you drowned? who saved you on the streets of godsgrave? who stood beside you through your trials in the church? and in all that time, have i ever steered you wrong…?”
Mia felt a rebuke rising on her lips, but before she could speak it, she sensed her shadow rippling, a familiar chill prickling her skin. A dark shape coalesced at her feet, sleek and lupine, weaving around and in between her legs.
“… YOU RETURN…”
“… Hello, Eclipse.”
“… I MISSED YOU…”
“… o, please…”
Eclipse snarled, shadow claws digging into the dirt.
Mister Kindly affected a yawn.