I fucking knew it …
Mia had no idea where he might be, but she could almost hear Mister Kindly’s rebuke in her ears. She hadn’t just failed to win a place with the collegium she’d intended, she’d also fallen into servitude to the wife of the justicus she’d murdered? Her scheme was drifting farther down the sewer with every passing turn …
Be still. Be patient. Leona will never know.
Mia bowed her head, followed the magistrae obediently. They were escorted through a broad hall at the keep’s rear, the trio all limping after their beatings. Mia was reeling from the news about Leona, about the presence of another darkin, but somewhere in the back of her mind, the child who’d walked these halls was struck by how much Crow’s Nest had changed. The layout was untouched, but the decor …
Dona Corvere had favored an opulent look, but now the halls were plain—the beautiful tapestries and carpets replaced by suits of armor and weapons of war. Mia wanted to see her old room, the view of the ocean from the balconies, but she and her fellows were led down a winding stair to an antechamber outside the cellar. An iron portcullis blocked them from going any farther, a complex mekwerk device on the wall beside it. A guard inserted an odd key, worked a series of levers. The portcullis rose, and Magistrae ushered Mia and the others inside.
Darius Corvere had used the vast sublevel as a living area for the brutal summer months, but Mia could see it had been refitted as a barracks. The space had been partitioned into six-by-six cells, lined with long rows of heavy iron bars.
Very generous of the dona to let her pets live underground …
Walking past the cages, Mia noted the fresh straw, the thick chains. Arkemical globes glowed on the wall. The barracks smelled of sweat and shit, but at least they were cool. The guards kept them moving, marching to the end of a long corridor, where they found a large bathhouse, hung thick with steam. Mia and her fellows were ushered in by Magistrae, the guards left outside. The older woman looked at them expectantly.
“Off with your clothes,” she ordered.
Another girl her age might have blushed. Trembled or simply refused. But Mia saw her body as just another weapon, as dangerous as any blade. Weaver Marielle had gifted her curves sharp enough to almost kill a man if she wished it, and Mia had murdered more men than she could rightly count.
What matter now to show a little skin?
And so, she stripped off her rags and boots without hesitation, stood naked in the steam. Sidonius was still too shaky from his beating to take much notice, but she saw Matteo drinking in her body from the corner of his eyes. Magistrae pointed to a stone bench near the pool. Mia saw razors, combs, a bevy of soaps.
“Gladiatii bathe together, eat together, fight together,” the woman explained. “But until you survive the Winnowing, you will tend to your own ablutions. Mark me well; I’ll not tolerate filth beneath this roof. And have a care with that hair of yours, girl.” Magistrae looked at Mia’s long, dirty locks. “If I find a single flea in it, I’ll have the lot chopped off.”
The woman raised one gray, sculpted eyebrow, inviting questions. After a moment’s silence, she nodded curtly.
“I will return in twenty minutes. Keep me waiting, taste the lash as your reward.”
Magistrae stalked away, the guards remaining stationed outside the door. Mia waded into the bath, sinking down with a long sigh. The temperature was glorious, and she luxuriated in the sensation, running her hands over her skin. Pushing back her hair, she finally surfaced, blinking the water from her lashes. She fixed Matteo in her stare, let herself rise in the water just enough that her breasts showed above the surface. The boy had his hands at his crotch, unsuccessfully trying to cover his growing erection as he stepped into the bath.
“Four Daughters, you’ll have someone’s eye out with that,” Sidonious growled. “Anyone’d think you’d never seen a pair of baps before.”
Matteo raised the knuckles and Mia found herself laughing. She reached for a cake of honeysoap, wondering how a peace offering might fare. Thugs often stood down once you stood up to their bullshit …
“If you weren’t such a pig, I’d find you more amusing, Sidonius.”
“Aye, well, if you weren’t such a cunt, I’d find you more attractive, little Crow.”
“I think I’ll learn to live with the heartache.”
The Itreyan smirked, gingerly touched his broken nose. Though she’d given him a drubbing, he seemed not to take it personally, and Mia decided Sidonius was one of those fellows who worked out his feelings through the application of violence. The kind who’ll walk into a taverna and beat the wailing shit out of the first man to look at him crossways, but the moment the fight is done, will be calling his foe “brother” and buying him drinks. Now that she’d given him a walloping, he seemed more kindly disposed. Though watching Sidonius prod his new sutures, she still wouldn’t be willing to bet whether he’d rather fuck or murder her.
“Who stitched you?” she asked, blinking suds from her eyes. “That young girl?”
“Aye,” Sidonius nodded. “Maggot they call her.”
“What kind of name is that?”
The big man sank up to his chin in the water. “No clue. But she’s swift with a needle. Good thing, too. She’ll have more stitching to do after the Winnowing.”
Matteo finally dragged his eyes away from Mia’s breasts, frowning.
“What is this Winnowing they speak of?”
Sidonius scoffed. “Where you from, boy?”
“Ashkah. Down near Dust Falls.”
“They got no arenas down there?”
Matteo shook his head. “I’d never seen the ocean until a month ago. Never even left my village. And now I’m here. Locked up with Itreyan pigs and Dweymeri brutes.”
“Watch your mouth.” Sidonius raised an eyebrow. “I’m Itreyan.”
“Aye,” Mia said. “And the most brilliant boy I ever met was Dweymeri.”
Sidonius nodded. “I’d leave that shit in the sewer if I was you, countryboy.”
Matteo mumbled apology, fell silent. Minutes passed, the boy fumbling with the soap, finally dropping the cake and fishing about for it in the water.
“How’d you end up here?” Mia asked.
The boy shrugged, steam sticking those dark curls to his skin. “My da sold me. Gambling debts. Foisted me off for want of coin.”
“Aa’s cock,” Sidonius growled. “And I thought I was cold-blooded.”
“You’re half-decent with a blade,” Mia said. “Where’d you learn to fight?”
“My uncle.” Matteo ran a hand through his hair, Mia idly watching the muscles at play in his arm as she combed her knots. “I was going to join the legion. I hoped I might get posted to a big city one turn. I always wanted to see the City of Bridges and Bones.”
“Perhaps you will,” Mia said. “They hold the Venatus Magni in Godsgrave.”