her again. Speaker Adonai gave word of her coming. Old Mercurio sends his love.”
“You’ve spoken to him?” Mia whispered, her heart swelling with joy.
Naev cast a pointed glance about the Imperial’s common room, nodded to a table in a far-flung corner. Making their way past groups of Corleone’s crew, the group secreted themselves at the back of the pub, squeezing into a booth around Naev. Daniio shuffled over with a round of cheap ales, his nervous stare still locked on Mia.
The girl blew him a kiss.
Once the publican had retreated, Naev spoke with a hushed voice, eyes on the door.
“Adonai sent word to Naev through the blood,” the woman said, tapping the silver phial about her neck. “The speaker and weaver have aligned themselves with Mercurio against the Ministry. Chronicler Aelius stands with the company also.” Naev looked at Mia. “Between them, they have pondered a way she might enter the Mountain and strike.”
“But we have to move now, Mia,” Ashlinn said.
“Aye,” Naev nodded. “Matters are moving swift. Time is sh—”
“Hold, hold,” Mia said, shaking her head. “I just fought my way across six hundred miles of storm and ocean. You’re telling me the speaker and weaver have joined with the chronicler in a conspiracy to help me take down the entire Red Church Ministry. Can I at least have a fucking smoke and come to grips with this first?”
“Scaeva is headed to the Quiet Mountain,” Ash whispered.
Mia’s belly thrilled, her jaw tightening. “What?”
“Ashlinn speaks truth,” Naev nodded. “The imperator needs Marielle to craft another duplicate to stand in his stead during public appearances. And he must be present for the weaver to craft a convincing likeness. He will be in the Mountain in a matter of turns.”
“All the vipers in one nest,” Ashlinn said, squeezing her hand. “This is our chance, Mia. Kill Scaeva. End the Ministry. Rescue Mercurio and be done with all of it.”
Mia’s skin prickled, a surge of adrenaline banishing the exhaustion, the chill. Scaeva surely wouldn’t travel to the Mountain unattended. And even with their numbers culled, the Red Church was still a cult of the deadliest assassins in the Republic. But the belly of the Quiet Mountain dwelled in perpetual night—no sunslight had ever touched it. She’d be as strong within the Black Mother’s halls as she’d been out there in that storm. Probably more so. And with all her enemies in the one place at the one time, just a few turns’ ride across the Ashkahi Whisperwastes …
She looked at Naev, her voice as sharp as the gravebone at her waist.
“Tell me everything you know.”
The whispers were louder than Mia remembered.
They were three turns into their trek, the heat rippling off the Ashkahi wastelands in shimmering waves. The Lady of Storms had abandoned the skies for now, the dark cloud cover peeling back to reveal a sullen purple glare above. Saan was half-hidden by the horizon, and Saai falling farther toward its rest. But out here in the desert, the temperature was still stifling.
Mia and her comrades rode inside a Red Church wagon train. The Hands who usually accompanied Naev on her supply runs couldn’t be trusted to join their conspiracy, so Naev had put them down with a dose of Swoon in their evemeals before Mia had even reached Ashkah. They were now resting in a rented room in the New Imperial, bound hand and face and foot.
Mia had told Cloud Corleone he was under no obligation to wait for her return. With the Black Banshee at the bottom of the Sea of Sorrows and his friendship with Mia well-known, the pirate had decided he’d sail back to Godsgrave and lie low until the succession war over the Throne of Scoundrels was settled.
As they’d made ready to trek out into the Whisperwastes, the captain had bowed low, flashed Mia his four-bastard smile, and doffed his tricorn.
“If I were the praying sort, I’d say one for you,” Corleone had said. “But I’m not sure you’d welcome it anyway. And so I’ll gift you this instead.”
The scoundrel gently took Mia’s hand, kissed her bruised and battered knuckles.
“Fortune go with you, my queen.”
“You don’t have to call me your queen anymore, Captain,” Mia had said.
“I know it,” Cloud replied. “Which is exactly why I do.”
BigJon had given Mia a low bow and his silver grin. “That marriage offer still stands, Queen Mia. I’d rather fancy being a king and telling this bastard what to do for a change.”