“Just remember,” Mercurio scowled, “the play’s final act needn’t be your own.”
“I’ve no wish to die,” Mia sighed, crushing her smoke out against the wall. “To be honest, it sounds far more interesting to be the most wanted murderer in the Republic.”
“A noble goal for any lass to aspire to,” Mercurio smiled.
Mia grinned. “Well, you told me once I’d never be a hero.”
Mercurio’s eyes filled with tears. He wrapped her up in a tight embrace, pulled her close to his chest. And there in the dark, just the pair of them, holding the girl he thought of as his own, the old man whispered.
“I might have lied.”
CHAPTER 32
GENTLY
Furian followed the path of a twisting canal through the marrowborn district, flanked on all sides by houseguards of the Remus Collegium. The hour was late, the heat only slightly eased by the cool nevernight winds blowing off the Sea of Silence. Revelry spilled from every taverna, smokehouse, and bordello, handsome dons and donas walking arm in arm, song and merriment ringing in the air.
The Unfallen had stomach for none of it.
The guards escorted him over the Bridge of Solace, along the edge of the Spine to a row of fine villas. They stood in the shadow of the fifth Rib, pale stone and ochre tile, flowers in the windowsills. Not the finest abodes in all of Godsgrave, to be sure, but closer to a palace than any place he’d slept in his life.
The guards escorted him to the front door, where Magistrae awaited in a flowing gown of ocean blue, a sour look on her face.
“The domina requests your presence,” the old woman said. “If it please you.”
With a last glance at the guards, Furian stalked into the villa, up the winding stair. The walls were polished white marble, silken curtains rippling in the breeze, rich red carpet beneath his feet. He walked slow, unsure of the way, finally arriving at a set of double doors at the end of the hall.
She lay on the bed inside, long auburn hair streaming in delicate ringlets about her face. Her lashes were kohled ink black, her lips blood red. She was dressed in a gown of white silk, thin as gossamer, her soft curves and the delicious shadow between her thighs visible through the sheer fabric. Her wrists were wrapped in thin gold chains, her eyes glittering like the face of the ocean.
Leona opened her arms, beckoned him to the bed.
“Hello, lover.”
*
Mia sat in the dark of her cell, on a simple cot made of straw, the gloom lightened only by a small arkemical globe. The hour was late, the heat only slightly eased by the cool nevernight breeze blowing in through the bars in the door. She could hear the distant sounds of steel on steel, mekwerk churning beneath the arena sands, the thunder of the crowd still echoing up in the bleachers.
Mia had stomach for none of it.
Guards patrolled the corridor outside, walking the row of champions’ cells. They weren’t the finest abodes in all of Godsgrave, to be sure, but the cells allowed a moment’s privacy before the turn that would decide their occupants’ lives.
Mia heard the mekwerk lock twist on her cell door, looked up to see a female guard standing upon the threshold.
“A moment of your time,” she said. “If it please you.”
The guard walked into the cell, closing the door behind her. The light was dim, her features hidden, but Mia still recognized her at once. The guard pulled off her helm, long red hair tumbling about her face. Her lashes were unpowdered, her lips bereft of paint. She was dressed in a black leather breastplate and skirt, the triple suns of the Itreyan legion on her breast. Her wrists were wrapped in thick leather bracers, her eyes as blue as sunsburned skies.
Mia opened her arms, beckoned her to the cot.
“Hello, lover.”
*
Leona pressed her lips to Furian’s, mouth open, hungry. Her hands roamed his back, arkemical thrills running down his spine as she explored the troughs and valleys of muscle. Hands tangled in his long dark hair, Leona dragged him down onto the bed, sighing into his mouth. Her hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, burning, Leona’s sighs on his skin, hot as the sunslight outside.
“I want you,” she breathed.
She straddled him, hair tumbling about his face, her kiss deepening as she moved her hips, grinding against him. Taking his hands, she placed them on her breasts, the heat of her skin, the scent of her perfume, the music of her sighs filling the room.
“I need you,” she whispered.
Her kisses drifted lower, hands descending to unbuckle his belt, whisk off his loincloth. She left a trail of burning kisses down his scarred chest, across the rippling muscle at his belly, her tongue lapping at the sweat on his skin as she sank farther and farther down.
“I own you,” she sighed.
“Stop,” he whispered.
He took hold of Leona’s chin, and gently pushed her away.
“Stop.”
*
Ash pressed her lips to Mia’s, mouth open, hungry. Her hands roamed her back, arkemical thrills running down Mia’s spine as she explored the smooth lines and graceful curves. Hands tangled in her long dark hair, Mia dragged her down onto the cot, sighing into her mouth. Her hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, burning, Ash’s sighs on her skin, hot as the sunslight outside.
“I want you,” she breathed.
Ash straddled her, hair tumbling about Mia’s face, their kiss deepening as they moved their hips, grinding against each other. Taking Mia’s hands, Ash placed them on her breasts, the heat of her skin, the scent of her sweat, the music of her sighs filling the cell.
“I need you,” she whispered.
Her kisses drifted lower, hands descending to unbuckle Mia’s belt, whisk off her loincloth. She left a trail of burning kisses down her heaving breasts, across the taut muscle at her belly, tongue lapping at the sweat on Mia’s skin as she sank farther and farther down.
“I love you,” she sighed.
“Don’t stop,” Mia whispered.
She took hold of Ash’s hair, and gently pulled her in.
“Don’t stop.”
*
Leona blinked up at Furian, confusion clouding her eyes.
“… What’s wrong?”
Furian climbed off the soft bed, the thousand-thread sheets, wishing for all the world he were back in his cell. He tied his loincloth about his waist, avoiding her gaze.
“Slave,” Leona demanded. “I asked you a question.”
He spoke gently then, his words sharp as steel.
“This was a dream. And I was a fool to dream it.”
He met her eyes then.
“This is not love,” he said.
And without a backward glance, he turned and stalked from the room.
*
Ash lay in Mia’s arms, drenched in sweat, looking up into her dark eyes.
“… What’s wrong?”
Mia only shook her head, held Ashlinn tighter. They lay together on the tiny straw bed in that gloomy pit, the taste of the other still lingering on their lips. Ash’s cloak beneath them. Stone and iron around them. All the world against them. Death looming large on a vicious horizon. And for that single, simple moment, none of it mattered.
None of it mattered at all.
“This feels like a dream,” Mia whispered. “And I don’t want to wake.”