“Some old flame? Break your heart, did she?”
“Neh,” Sid shook his head. “I never loved her. But most men who knew her did. She almost brought the Republic to its knees. But in the end, she and her shady eyes and her secrets within secrets got her whole familia killed. Husband. Young daughter. Baby son. And a lot of my friends besides.”
Mia’s stomach turned cold. Eyes narrowing.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Former dona of this house, of course,” Sid said, gesturing to the walls. “Wife of the true justicus. Alinne Corvere.” He shook his head. “Stupid fucking whore.”
Afterward, Mia couldn’t remember moving. All she could recall was the satisfying crunch as her fist landed on Sidonius’s jaw, the sharp crack as his head bounced off the wall behind him. The big man cursed, tried to batter her away as she clawed at his throat, punching his cheek, his temple, his nose.
“Have you lost your—”
“Take it back,” she spat.
“Get off me!”
Mia and Sidonius fell to struggling, the bigger man wrestling her onto the floor as her knuckles played a tune on his face. “Take it back!” she roared, the pair rolling about in the straw, flailing and punching. A few other gladiatii woke up at the commotion, Bladesinger peering out from the slit in her cell door, Otho and Felix cheering as they realized a brawl had erupted, straining at their cell bars for a better look.
“Shut the fuck up in there!” Butcher bellowed from the cell across the way.
“Peace, Crow!” Sidonius cried.
“… mia stop this…”
“Take it back!”
“Take what back?”
Sidonius cracked Mia across the jaw, Mia punched him in the throat. Choking, the big man grabbed a fistful of Mia’s hair and slammed her head into the bars, ringing all the world like a gong. Lashing out blind, stars in her eyes, she landed a brutal kick to his bollocks. Both gladiatii fell to the stone floor, gasping, bleeding, the cut on Mia’s brow from her silkling brawl split anew, Sid groaning and clutching his jewels.
“… mia, stop, arkades will hear…!”
Mister Kindly’s whisper cut through the red haze in her head, dragged her to her senses. The not-cat spoke truth—if they kept brawling, Executus would surely hear the commotion, and they’d likely be flogged. She aimed one last kick at Sidonius, who rolled away across the floor with a curse. The big man dragged himself into a corner like a whipped dog, Mia into the opposite, the pair gasping and glaring at each other across the bloodstained stone.
“What th-the ’byss … was that?” Sid managed, his voice almost an octave higher.
Mia dragged bloody knuckles across her bloody nose.
“Nobody talks that way about her.”
“About wh—”
Sidonius blinked. Ice-blue eyes narrowing as he looked across the cell to the girl panting and wheezing in the corner. Dragging her long dark hair away from her dark eyes—the eyes that reminded him of …
“Can’t be…,” he breathed.
Sidonius looked to the walls around him. Back to the girl. Mia could see the slow puzzle of it, the impossible math, all of it falling into an insane kind of place in his eyes. This girl who wouldn’t escape these walls, despite being able to leave whenever she chose. This girl who seemed determined to fight in the most vicious contest yet devised in Republic history, just to attain a freedom she could have anytime she chose. So, if it wasn’t about the freedom …
“The Crow,” he breathed. “And here we sit, in Crow’s Nest.”
… it must be about the winning.
“You’re … You’re their…?”
She felt it welling up inside her. Behind the pain of Sid’s beating, the pulse throbbing in her head and spilling blood into her eyes. The weight of it. Being surrounded every turn by reminders of who she’d been, what might have become, all that had been taken from her. The frustration and hunger she felt around Furian, the confusion and desire she felt around Ashlinn, the sheer magnitude of the task before her. She didn’t feel fear in the face of it all, no, the thing in her shadow wouldn’t allow that. But she did feel sorrow. Regret, for all that was and might have been.
And just for a second, just for a moment, the weight of it felt too much.
The other gladiatii had realized the show was over, shuffled back to their places in the straw. Mia sat hunched, hugging her scuffed knees, glaring at Sidonius through her ragged fringe. Lip trembling. Eyes burning in the dark.
“Take it back,” she whispered, tears welling in her lashes.
“Peace, Crow,” the man murmured, swabbing his bleeding lip. “If offense was given, I beg pardon. I didn’t … I couldn’t…”
He stared at her bewildered, once more glancing at the walls around them. Red stone, iron bars, rusty chains. None could hold her. And yet, here she still was …
“Four Daughters, I’m sorry…”
Mia sat there in the dark, feeling his eyes, feeling his pity, crawling like lice on her skin. She couldn’t stand it, the weakness she’d shown, the sorrow in Sid’s gaze, dragging her bleeding knuckles across her eyes and feeling her temper swell once more. Feeling angry felt better—far better than feeling sorry for herself. The adrenaline from her brawl tingled in her fingertips, left her legs shaking. She wanted to run, wanted to fight, wanted to close her eyes and still the tempest inside her head, for time to stand still for just one second.
Is that what she wanted?
What do you want?
It had been stupid to let it slip. To let her rage get the better of her, let Sid guess who she was. But had it been a mistake?
He’d known her father. Served him loyally. Still revered him, after all these years.
Maybe she’d wanted him to know?
Maybe she wanted to know someone who knew them too? Who understood a fraction of what being here must be like.
The future loomed before her, the empty sands of Godsgrave arena. All the blood that awaited her, all the blood behind her. Every moment of her life had led her to this path, this vengeance, this unbending, unbranching road.
But what did she want, besides revenge?
It was still hours until nevernight’s end.
She didn’t want to sleep.
She didn’t want to dream.
She didn’t want to lay her head down in this place that had been her home, and now served only as a fading reminder of all that could have been.
So what do you want?
“Crow?”
She looked up at Sid, quietly bleeding in his corner.
“Blessed Aa, I’m sorry, girl,” he said.
She didn’t want him looking at her, that much was certain. And as he rose from his straw and sat down beside her, wrapping one of those big, ham-hock arms around her shoulder, she realized the last thing on earth she wanted was him consoling her. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want to fall into some lump’s clumsy, slightly uncomfortable hug and cry like some frightened child. That time was long behind her. Dead and buried like her familia. She was a Blade of the Red Church now. Not weak and fragile glass. She was steel.