“And you, Butcher? What about you, Otho?”
“Nay,” they replied. “Never.”
“To the Crow!” Sid roared, and the room raised their cups in answer.
Only Furian was silent, sipping his wine as if it were poisoned.? His eyes never left Mia’s, filled with accusation and cold fury. Sick as he’d been, she knew he must have watched her battle, probably felt her calling the dark. But still, there was no denying her victory had been glorious, and no matter how much the sight of that silver laurel on her brow burned his craw, the Unfallen wisely kept his bile behind his teeth.
Occasionally, Mia would stare across the feast with ink-black eyes, boring into the champion’s own, the illness and hunger she felt whenever she was around him swelling in her belly. Glancing at his seat at the table’s head, she silently promised.
Soon.
“Attend!”
The gladiatii fell silent, rising to their feet as Executus Arkades marched into the room, along with Magistrae. Dona Leona walked behind them, beaming.
“Domina!” the gladiatii barked.
“Be still, my Falcons,” she raised her hands, urged them to take their seats. “I’ll not part you from your revels. The streets ring with the name of the Remus Collegium, and you’ve earned this moment’s joy, all of you.”
The dona smiled as they raised their cups, toasted her health. She’d taken time to change into an off-the-shoulder dress and matching corset in beautiful crushed velvet, the same rustred as her hair. Mia wondered exactly how much silver the woman had spent on it. How many dresses she’d hauled here from the Nest. How much this damned celebration feast was costing her and where the ’byss she got the coin. For someone who was so strapped she’d been willing to sell Mia to a pleasure house a mere turn ago …
Mia glanced at Arkades, saw the Executus eyeing the food and wine with the same concern. Mia looked at the jewels about the dona’s throat, the gold at her wrists, the realization only sinking deeper.
She’s awful with money. Raised rich, so she’s never learned the real value of a coin, or truly understood the life that awaits you when you run out of them. All she cares about is how she appears to others.
To her father.
Mia looked Leona up and down, sighing inside.
Could I have grown up the same way, if mine hadn’t been killed?
Mia saw Furian look to his domina from the corner of her eye, perhaps seeking some gesture of acknowledgment. But true to her ruse, tall and proud and O, so proper, Leona did not even grace him with a glance.
“My Crow,” the dona said, smiling at Mia. “A word.”
“Domina.”
Mia followed Leona from the room, conscious of Furian’s burning gaze on her back. Arkades and Magistrae followed, the older woman shutting the door as Sidonius started recounting the battle again, using a jug of wine and a toothpick for props.
“You are well?” Leona asked.
“Well enough,” Mia replied. “My thanks, Domina.”
“’Tis I who should be thanking you,” Leona said, her eyes dancing. “Our collegium is the talk of the entire city. The governor of Stormwatch, Quintus Messala himself, has declared this the finest contest the Republic has ever seen, and you”—Leona squeezed Mia’s shoulders—“you, my bloody beauty, are the heart of it all.”
“I live to honor you, Domina,” Mia said.
Arkades narrowed his eyes at that, but Leona seemed almost giddy.
“Governor Messala holds a traditional feast the nevernight after the venatus,” the dona said. “Every marrowborn and administratii attends his palazzo, and he invites every sanguila who fields gladiatii in the games, along with their champion.” Leona’s eyes twinkled with fierce delight. “But he has sent personal missive, asking that in addition to Furian, I bring you, that all may gaze upon the Savior of Stormwatch.”
“… The Savior of Stormwatch?” Mia murmured.
“It has a fine ring to it, neh?” Leona chuckled. “The minstrels are already singing of your victory in taverna across the city. You will be the pride of the feast, the jewel in my crown. And we’ll be showered in coin—the elite of the city will be throwing offers of patronage at my feet. The eyes of every sanguila upon you, burning with jealousy.”
Every sanguila …
“Messala has always favored fighters from my father’s collegium,” Leona said. “For years, he has heaped accolades upon the Lions of Leonides. How badly it will burn, to see me in the seat of favor at Messala’s right hand.”
The dona pressed her fingers to her lips, smothering her mad grin.
“Imagine the look on the old bastard’s face.”
“Mi Dona,” Magistrae warned, glancing at Mia. “You should not speak so…”
“Mmm, aye.” Leona remembered herself, nodding and smoothing down the lines of her dress. “I keep you from your revels, my Crow. Go and celebrate your victory. But not too much wine, neh? I want you looking your best at the feast amorrow.”
Like a prized pet, Mia realized. Like a dog at her mistress’s feet. To be sold in an instant if she fails to bark on command.
Sit.
Roll over.
Play dead.
Be dead.
Mia pressed her lips tight. Thinking of her father, swinging at the end of his rope. Her mother bleeding to death in her arms. Her baby brother, taking his first steps in some lightless pit and dying there in the dark.
Thinking of Duomo.
Thinking of Scaeva.
Eyes on the prize, Corvere.
And looking into Leona’s eyes, she bowed, hand to her heart.
“Your whisper, my will,” she said. “Domina.”
*
“Black fucking Mother, you were brilliant!”
Ashlinn crashed into Mia as soon as she climbed through the taverna window, arms wrapped around her tight. Mia nodded, “Aye, aye,” and extricated herself from the girl’s grip, drew the curtains behind her. She was the most well-known person in Stormwatch, after all, and the streets were still filled with revelers celebrating the venatus. The suns were burning her eyes, the beating she’d taken that afternoon was leaving its bruises, and after the feast with her brother and sister gladiatii, Mia was feeling more than a little drunk. Looking about the tiny room, she saw there were no chairs to sit in—just a single cot with a mattress as thin as a slice of fine cheese.
“Not exactly the consul’s villa, is it?”
“Every inn, outhouse and brothel was full because of the venatus,” Ash shrugged. “The Mother smiled on me to even get a berth in this hovel. Don’t ask how much we’re paying for it. Good thing Mercurio gave us so much coin. But anyway, to the ’byss with the room, you just killed a colossus! The whole city is talking about you!”
Mia slumped down on the bed, massaged her aching ribs.
“Aye,” was all she mustered.