And with that, she was gone. Down the wall, to the alley, dragging the shadows about her head. Stealing back up the way to Crow’s Nest with Mister Kindly to guide her to her rest.
She thought about the way Ashlinn looked at her. The kiss they’d shared the turn Mia left the Mountain. That had all been for show on Ashlinn’s part, she was sure of it. Just a play to further the girl’s plan to take down the Ministry. Mia knew it. Everyone knew it. Ashlinn J?rnheim was poison. But thinking on that kiss, her mind drifted to that nevernight in Gaius Aurelius’s bed, the way that Liisian beauty had tasted on his lips. Wondering if that had been all for show on her part—just another ruse to get within striking distance of the senator’s son. Wondering if part of her hadn’t enjoyed it, or if it mattered, even if she had.
Wondering why she was wondering at all.
Eyes on the fucking prize, Corvere …
Back at Crow’s Nest, she found the portcullis still sealed, the guards watching. The hour was late, and there was little hope a servant might be sent down to the Rest until after the gladiatii were roused for mornmeal. And so Mia reached out to the shadows at her feet, the shadows in the courtyard, and drawing a deep breath, she
Stepped
across
the space
between them.
She fell to her knees in the dust, head swimming, the burning light of the two suns overhead pounding upon her skull. At least the wine had worn off, and she wasn’t tempted to spew, but the sensation was still far on the south side of pleasant. The captain of the dona’s houseguard, a sharp-eyed fellow named Gannicus, turned at the sound of her hitting the dirt. But with Mia hidden beneath her cloak in the shadow of the wall, he saw nothing of account, and slowly turned back to his watch.
It was several minutes before Mia felt steady enough to rise, creeping slow across the courtyard at Mister Kindly’s whispers, down the building’s flank to the open verandah at the rear. Stealing down the stairs, groping blind, she finally found the iron bars that sealed off the barracks from the rest of the villa. Taking a moment to ready herself, dreading the incoming vertigo, she felt for the shadows of her dingy little cell. And closing her eyes tight she
Stepped
down into the black
at her feet
and into the cell beyond.
The heat of the suns was nowhere near as intense in the barrack’s dark, but still, she was almost sick, puke bubbling up from her gullet and welling in her cheeks. She was getting better at shadow-stepping since the basilica roof—like any muscle, she supposed it grew stronger the more she used it. But a second Step so soon after the first was apparently too much, especially with the suns burning so bright in the sky. She swallowed thickly, crouched upon the straw, clutching the stones beneath to stop the world from spinning. Listening to the cells around her, she heard nothing but soft snoring and sighs.
“… all looks clear…,” came a whisper in her ear.
She waited a moment longer, the world slowly steadying itself. And finally, safe inside her cell, Mia threw her shadowcloak aside and blinked around the cellar’s gloom, right into Sidonius’s opening eyes.
“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Look wh—”
Mia crossed the cell in a flash, seized the man by the throat, one hand over his mouth. Sidonius clawed her back, muscles bulging, growling as the pair struggled. Sid was bigger, Mia faster, the pair scuffling silently in the straw. Each had the other in a choke hold, veins bulging at their throats, Sid’s eyes welling with tears.
“P-pe…,” he gurgled.
Even as Mia choked him, his own hold tightened. Mia’s throat cinched closed, her chest burning, blood cut off to her brain. She was still dizzy from her shadow-stepping, she’d no idea if the big Itreyan would succumb before she did. No idea what he’d do if she did …
“P … peace,” he managed to gasp.
Mia eased off her hold a fraction, looking into Sidonius’s eyes. The big man did the same, letting just a whisper of breath into her lungs. Slow as melting ice, she released her grip, the big man’s fingers unwinding from about her neck. Mia rolled off the big Itreyan, retreated to one corner of their cell.
“’Byss and b-blood,” Sid whispered, rubbing his throat. “Wh … what was that for?”
“You saw,” Mia whispered.
“So what?”
“You know. What I am.”
Sid winced, trying to swallow. He whispered almost lower than she could hear.
“Darkin.”
Mia said nothing, dark eyes locked on his.
“And that deserves a bloody strangling?” he pressed.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” Mia spat, looking about the other cells.
“… advice best followed by everyone concerned…?”
Sidonius’s eyes grew wide as the shadowcat faded into view on Mia’s shoulder.
“Bugger me…,” he breathed.
“… a generous offer, but no, thank you…”
“And thank you for telling me all looked clear,” Mia whispered.
The not-cat tilted his head.
“… i can’t be perfect in every way…”
Mia and Sidonius looked at each other across the straw. There was fear in the man’s stare—fear of the unknown, fear of what she was. But, despite it, Sidonius held his peace, held his tongue, looking her over with curious eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be screaming for the guards right now?” Mia asked. “Blathering that they should be nailing me up for witchery?”
“Witchery?” Sid scoffed. “Do I look like some addle-witted peasant to you?”
“… I admit, you’re taking the news better than most.”
“I’ve seen a lot of this world, little Crow. And you’re not the strangest of it. Not by a long ways.” The Itreyan leaned back against the bars, folded his arms. “It’s true, then … what they say about you lot?”
“That we spoil milk where we walk and deflower virgins wher—”
“That you walk through walls, you little nonce. I woke up to piss a half-hour ago and you weren’t here. Then, pop, you appear right out of the fucking air?”
“That’s not what happened, Sid.”
“I know what I saw, Crow.”
Sounds of waking could be heard in the villa overhead. The cook’s footsteps on the boards, the watch changing outside. Executus would be down here soon, rousing them for their first round of brutal calisthenics.
Mia looked Sidonius in the eye, studying him with care. The man was a smart-arse, a thug, an utter lackwit when it came to women. But he was no fool. She didn’t trust him, not by half. But they’d bled together on the sands of Blackbridge, and that counted for something. Still, there was no chance she was willing to share anything of herself without him giving something in return …
She looked at the scarred knuckles and heavy muscle that spoke of a man who’d spent a life fighting. The cold blue eyes that spoke of long miles and longer years. The word COWARD burned into his skin.
“Just how much of the world have you seen?” she asked.
“Liis,” he replied. “Vaan. Itreya. Anywhere the banner took me.”
Mia raised an eyebrow. Remembering the way Sid had conducted himself during the Winnowing. Barking orders like a man used to command. Thinking tactics, like …
“You were in the Itreyan legion,” she said.