“We need those sails up now, ’Waker.”
“Aye,” the man nodded. “They’ll be down in the hold. All of you, with me.”
Wavewaker threw aside the large oaken hatch that sealed the ’Hound’s hold, climbed swiftly down the ladder into the ship’s belly. Bladesinger hopped down second, Sidonius and the other gladiatii following while Mia and Bryn remained on deck to keep watch. Sunslight filtered through the timber lattice above their heads, illuminating the ship’s belly, and the gladiatii spread out, searching for the great sheets of canvas that would see them under way. Crates and barrels, coils of salt-crusted rope and heavy, iron-bound chests. But …
“I can’t see them,” Bladesinger said.
“They must be here somewhere,” Wavewaker growled. “Keep looking.”
“Why the ’byss would they stow the sails anyw—”
Sid heard scuffling footsteps, a soft curse above their heads. Squinting up through the lattice, he saw two struggling figures, silhouetted against the light. Bryn was one of them—he could tell from the topknot. But the figure behind her, arm wrapped around her neck, looked like …
“Mia?” he whispered.
He heard a gasp, a wet thud as Bryn toppled into the hold and landed atop a great coil of rope with a groan. And as Sid opened his mouth to shout warning, the trapdoor above them slammed closed, sealing them all in the ’Hound’s hold.
“What the ’byss?” Wavewaker hissed.
Sidonius was kneeling beside Bryn, the girl barely conscious, red marks at her throat. He looked up through the latticework hatch, belly churning, his mouth suddenly dry as dust.
“Crow?” he called. “What are you playing at?”
“I’m sorry, Sidonius,” he heard the girl reply, voice thick with sorrow. “But I told you once already. The last thing I’m doing here is playing.”
Butcher climbed the ladder, pounded at the hatch with his sword, trying to break it open. “What the fuck goes on here?”
The gladiatii met each other’s eyes, confusion and dread in every stare. They were sealed in the ’Hound’s belly like fish in a barrel, no one to fight, no way out.
“This is how you repay me?” came a voice.
Sidonius looked up, drawing a shivering breath as he saw Dona Leona walking the deck above his head. Instead of nevernight attire, she was dressed in black, her eyes kohled, hair braided as if for war.
“After all I have done for you,” Leona said, staring down at the gladiatii trapped in the hold. “Raising you up from the mire. Feeding and sheltering you beneath my roof. Drenching you in glory and the honor of my collegium’s name. This is my thanks?”
“Crow,” Wavewaker spat, prowling in circles and looking up at the deck. “Crow, what have you done?”
“She has done what no other among you had the courage to do,” Leona said. “She has remained loyal to her domina.”
“You bleeding fucking cunt!” Butcher roared, slamming his arm against the hatch. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Leona answered. “You will languish in that hold until I decide your fate. And I fear it shall be an unpleasant one, traitor.”
“You call us traitors?” Bladesinger shouted. “I brought you honor at Whitekeep. Crow would never have stood victor if not for me! And you give me thanks by selling me to that shitheel Varro Caito before my wounds are even healed?”
The woman spat onto the wood at her feet.
“You faithless fucking bitch.”
Leona sneered, shook her head.
“All I hear are treacherous rats, squeaking in a hole of their own making.”
Butcher was smashing at the hatch with his sword. Wavewaker pushing at the timbers above their head. A half-dozen houseguards spilled out from the ’Hound’s main cabin to surround the dona—the second shift, all of whom should have been slumbering right now in their bunks. There could be no doubt now that Leona had known this was coming, that all the faith they’d put in the daughter of Darius Corvere …
Sidonius clenched his fists as he looked up through the lattice. Mia met his stare, dark eyes clouded, her expression grim and bloodless. The scar cutting down her cheek lent her a vicious air, a cruelty and callousness he’d never noticed until now. But still, he fancied he could see tears in those dark lashes, her long dark hair caught up in the nevernight winds and playing about her face like some black halo.
“Crow?”
“It just meant too much to me, Sid,” she whispered.
She shook her head, hands fluttering helplessly at her sides.
“I’m so sorry…”
It had been a lot to risk on a single girl.
But he’d never thought for a moment they’d actually lose.
“Aye, little Crow.”
Sidonius hung his head, pawing at his aching chest.
“I’m sorry too…”
CHAPTER 30
INTERLUDE
Two passengers met in a dirty alley, in a little city by the sea.
The first was small, thin as whispers, cut in the shape of a cat. It had worn the seeming for over seven years now. It could barely remember the thing it had been before. A fraction of a deeper darkness, with only enough awareness to crawl from the black beneath Godsgrave’s skin and seek another like itself.
Mia.
She’d lost her father, the turn they met. Hanged and dancing before the hoi polloi. She’d screamed, and made the shadows tremble, and he’d followed her call until he found her at her mother’s side. The image of her father burned bright in her mind as he reached out and touched her. But she’d lost her kitten, too. Its neck broken in the hands of the justicus who’d stolen her father’s title along with his life. A tinier wound. The kitten seemed a far more sensible shape to steal, in the end. Far better than the father. Far easier to love a simple thing.
She’d named him Mister Kindly. It fitted well enough. But somewhere deep inside, the cat who was not a cat knew that was not his name.
The second passenger was larger, had worn its shape for longer. She’d found her Cassius when he was but a boy. Beaten. Starving. Abused beyond reckoning. A child of the Itreyan wilds, dragged to the City of Bridges and Bones in chains, and there, almost drowned in misery. The boy’s folk had hunted wolves—he’d remembered that much, even in his nadir. And the boy remembered wolves were strong and fierce. So she became a wolf for him, and together, they’d hunted all who stood in their way.
He’d named her Eclipse. It was close to the truth. But somewhere deep inside, the wolf who was not a wolf knew that was not her name either.
She missed him.
“… HELLO, MOGGY…,” the not-wolf said, resting on the wall of a lean-to inn.
“… hello, mongrel…,” the not-cat replied, atop a stack of empty barrels.
“… IT IS DONE, THEN…?”
“… it is done…”
The shadowwolf turned her not-eyes to the ocean, nodded once.
“… I WILL TELL ASHLINN SHE CAN REMOVE THAT RIDICULOUS TINKER’S PACK, THEN…”
“… if you could convince her to drown herself in the ocean at the same time, i would sincerely appreciate it…”
“… YOUR JEALOUSY FASCINATES ME, LITTLE MOGGY…”