was on his hands and knees in the chopping swell, wonder and amazement in his gaze as he looked up at her.
Lightning flashed, tearing the skies in fury. The waves crashed and rolled. The Ladies of Storms and Oceans, the terrible twins, reaching out toward her with all their hatred. Mia hauled herself to her feet, Eclipse beside her, the shadows swaying like serpents. She dragged her sodden tricorn off, clawed her hair from her face, and she laughed. Her eyes alight. Her heart warmed by dark flame, burning in her chest.
All they had, they’d thrown.
All their hate, they’d given.
All their fury, spent.
Mia raised the knuckles to the sky.
“Still standing, bitches.”
BOOK 4
THE ASHES OF EMPIRES
CHAPTER 30
COULD
““O, fuck no.”
When Mia pushed open the door to the New Imperial Taverna in the town of Last Hope, she hadn’t been expecting open arms or a triumphal parade. But when Fat Daniio, owner and proprietor, looked up from his shiny new countertop and saw the bedraggled and sea-soaked Blade and her Hearthless companion standing on his doorstep, Mia had actually been impressed by the sheer horror in his eyes.
“O, fuck no,” the publican repeated.
Fat Daniio’s trepidation at Mia’s return was understandable: last time she was in his pub, she’d poisoned a cadre of Luminatii in his common room and burned the Old Imperial to the ground. By way of compensation, the Red Church had sponsored a rebuild, and the New Imperial was a rather more well-to-do affair than its predecessor. Not exactly a marrowborn villa, but at least there were no bloodstains on the floors or rats holding court in the rafters.
Still, it seemed Mia wasn’t among Daniio’s list of favorite people.
“Nonono,” the tubby publican begged, raising his hands in surrender. “Merciful Aa, you can’t come in here, I’ve just had the walls repainted.”
“I promise to behave,” Mia said, stepping over the threshold.
“Mia!”
She heard running footsteps, smelled jasmine perfume, and then Ashlinn was catching her up in a breathless embrace. Ash’s lips found hers and Mia kissed her back, forgetting herself for a moment and just enjoying the simple feel of her girl in her arms again. She was soaked to the skin, freezing cold, exhausted past sleeping. But just for a heartbeat, none of it mattered.
Sidonius strode across the room and joined in on the hug, Bladesinger was quick to follow. Looking around the pub’s common room, Mia saw it was full of salts from the Bloody Maid, talking soft and drinking hard. Cloud Corleone sat in a booth with BigJon, Butcher, and Jonnen—the trio were apparently teaching her brother how to play Kingslayer.* But all four looked up as Mia and Tric entered, amazement etched on Corleone’s face.
“Fuck me very gently,” he breathed.
“Then fuck you very hard?” Mia asked.
Cloud tipped his tricorn and grinned. “Good to see you, my queen.”
Mia gave a slow curtsey that a marrowborn dona would envy, then looked to Jonnen and winked. Her brother climbed off his chair and, keeping his manner as lordly as he could manage, walked across the common room and wrapped his little arms around her waist in a fierce hug. She was soaked to the skin but couldn’t bring herself to care, lifting him up and squeezing him tight and planting a kiss on his cheek. The boy protested, making a face as her lips touched his skin.
“You’re cold.”
“So they tell me,” she replied.
“Unhand me, wench,” he demanded.
Mia kissed him again, grinning as he wriggled in her embrace. Finally, she set him on the taverna floor and sent him on his way with a soft smack to his backside. The Falcons looked at Mia with a kind of awe. Sidonius turned to Tric, shook his ink-black hand.
“We feared you’d not make it,” the Itreyan said. “That storm was a monster.”
“Aye,” Bladesinger said, giving a grudging nod. “Well done, lad.”
“THE WORK WASN’T MINE,” Tric replied. “WE’D BOTH BE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN IF NOT FOR MIA.”
“Where’s the Black Banshee?” Butcher asked.
Mia shrugged. “Bottom of the ocean.”
Tric looked at Mia with lingering wonder. “SHE TRULY IS CHOSEN OF THE GODDESS.”
“Always there seemed more to her than the eye beheld,” said a familiar voice.
Mia turned and saw a thin woman with her face veiled in black silk. Strawberry-blond curls. Dark, kohled eyes. Soundless as whispers and standing right behind her.
“Naev!”
Mia caught the woman up in her arms, kissed her cheeks, one after another. Naev returned the hug with fondness, a smile shining in her eyes.