“I am a daughter of the dark between the stars,” she replied. “I am the thought that wakes the bastards of this world sweating in the nevernight. I am the vengeance of every orphaned daughter, every murdered mother, every bastard son.” Mia leaned forward and looked the man in the eye. “I am the war you cannot win.”
Mia pushed her seat back, stood slowly, and, content to meet him at the crossroads, she walked around the table. She let her gravebone sword trail along the ground, the tip scoring a deep runnel in the floorboards. Her oversized coat of faces dragged behind her like the train of some godsless bride. Stopping halfway down the table’s length, Mia extended one bloodstained hand.
“You gift me Ashkahi shores, and I’ll gift you a throne,” she said. “Or you can defy me, and learn exactly what it is that makes the rest of them so afraid.”
Ulfr Sigursson glanced once more to his men. Mia’s eyes never wavered. And finally, slowly, the big Vaanian stood, leathers creaking, boots clomping as he walked around the table and stopped before her. Eclipse prowled around their legs, growling soft. The light flickered and the wind whispered and the shadows laughed.
Mia just stared.
I am the war you cannot win.
Ulfr Sigursson sank to one knee.
Pressed her bloody knuckles to his lips.
“Majesty,” he said.
* * *
“I’m not leaving you,” Ashlinn said.
“Yes,” Mia replied. “You are.”
Wind was blowing in off the Sea of Sorrows, cold as the fear in Ashlinn Järnheim’s belly. All around her, the crew of the Bloody Maid were loading their gear, marching up the gangplank to their waiting ship. The Falcons were gathered at the base of the ramp, all save Butcher and Jonnen, who’d snatched a spare minute to practice with a pair of wooden swords that the man had carved with his own two hands. Eclipse bounced back and forth between them, growling encouragement to the boy. But Ashlinn only had eyes for her girl.
“Mia,” she scowled. “There’s no way.”
“Ashlinn, there’s no sense in you all shipping out with me,” Mia replied. “The goddesses still want my blood. We can make our way to Last Hope separately, meet Naev there, and head out to the Quiet Mountain together. You take the Maid now, it’ll be smooth sailing all the way to Ashkah. Trelene and Nalipse aren’t interested in any of you, they want me.” She glanced to Corleone. “Isn’t that true, Cloud?”
“We had nary a bump on the way down here,” the scoundrel nodded. “Blue above and below.”
“My thanks for finally getting here, by the by,” Mia said. “Were you selling some of that arkemist’s salt in the Maid’s belly, or just taking in the sights?”
“Neither.”
“Well, what took you so long?”
The man scratched the back of his head, a little bashful. “A small matter of…”
“Vaginas,” BigJon offered. “Several, in fact.”
“Good for you,” Mia smiled. “Battista? Bertrando?”
Corleone just grinned, but Ashlinn felt anger swell in her chest.
“Mia, stop fuckarsing about,” she said, tugging her girl’s arm. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” Mia replied. “The Ladies want to kill me. They’ll save their strength for the Banshee. So you ship out now on the Maid, we’ll wait six turns and follow. You’ll be sunning those beautiful baps on the shores of Last Hope by the time we arrive.”
“If you arrive.”
“I have a better chance with Sigursson and his crew. Banshee’s almost twice the size of the Maid. She’s made for the worst the sea has to give. But I can’t bring Jonnen with me into the tempest, and I need someone to look after him while I’m not there. Who’s going to do that? Butcher? Mother love him, but he’s not the finest role model.”
Ashlinn glanced to the former gladiatii, who’d paused his sparring with Jonnen to stick his hand down his britches, readjust his tackle, and burp louder than thunder.
“Right, get that guard up, boy…”
Ash shook her head, trying to make Mia see sense. “So what, you plan to cross the Sea of Sorrows on a ship full of murderous fucking cutthroats? You saw what kind of man Valdyr was. Goddess knows what kind of bastards he took for his crew.”
“I think I’ve a notion,” Mia sighed.
“You can’t rescue Mercurio if these pricks cut your throat and feed you to the drakes. I’m not leaving you alone with the likes of them.”
“I won’t be alone. Tric’s coming with me. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t eat. He can’t drown. Who better to guard my back on the sea