“Put some clothes on,” Mia hissed. “Jonnen’s going to sleep in here with us.”
“Really?” Ash frowned, looking about her. “Shit, all right, give me a breath.”
Mia shuffled her brother into the cabin as Ashlinn rolled out of the hammock, turned away from the door. The boy stood with his hands clasped before him, sneaking curious and furtive glances at the inkwerk on Ashlinn’s back …
“Jonnen,” she breathed.
Mia had no idea how Scaeva had sent word to the Ashkahi Legion about where she was headed. But he’d taken the godsblood. The might of a fallen divinity sang in his veins. Who knows what gifts he had at his disposal now? And in the end, she supposed it didn’t really matter how. He’d obviously done it, and she obviously had five thousand fully armed and armored cocks set to fuck her none too sweetly.
The question was, what was she going to do about it?
She looked to the Blackverge Mountains to the distant west, shot Julius an apologetic glance, and pulled out her riding crop.
“I hope you’re not going to make me use this,” she said.
* * *
“Faster, you ugly fuck, faster!”
Julius was in a froth, Mia bent over her reins and riding hard, the beast’s hooves thudding and thumping over the parched earth. The Lady of Blades, champion of the Venatus Magni, and Queen of Scoundrels had hoped she might get a good enough lead on the Seventeenth that pursuit would prove fruitless, but she hadn’t counted on their cavalry cohort. She could see a group of outriders now if she squinted—twenty men on swift horses, riding up hard from the south. They might not know the camel in front of them carried the girl they sought, but they were certainly coming for a look-see. Trying to scarper as fast as Julius could gallop probably wasn’t the best way to ease their curiosity, but Mia had hoped she could simply outrun them.
The problem being, of course, that horses run faster than camels.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Mia gasped, “but I miss Bastard.”
Sadly, the thoroughbred stallion she’d stolen from the stables in Last Hope two years ago was nowhere to be seen, and Mia was stuck riding her snarling spittle-beast. The outriders bore down on her out of the southern heat haze, dust rising behind them. She’d been thoughtful enough to pack a crossbow from the Mountain’s armory, loading a bolt and drawing the string.
As the soldiers galloped closer, the lead outrider blew a long, quavering note on a silver-trimmed horn. Mia saw the men wore light leather armor, shortswords at their waists and shortbows in their free hands. Their livery and the thin crests of horsehair on their helms were stained a deep leaf-green, the standard of the Seventeenth emblazoned on cloaks dyed in the same shade.*
“Halt!” the leader roared. “Halt in the name of the imperator!”
“To the Abyss your imperator,” Mia growled.
Mia raised her crossbow and let fly. The captain fell with a bolt in his chest, tumbling from his saddle with a grunt of pain. The other soldiers cried out in alarm, splitting up like a flock of swallows, scattering in all directions. Eight swung around behind Mia, another eight spurred their mounts ahead.
And then,
like a silent miracle at her back,
Mia felt the red sun finally slip below the edge of the world.
The sky shifted darker: moody indigo, fading through to sullen violet. Only one eye of Aa remained in the sky. Only one piece of the Everseeing’s hatred holding her gifts in check. Not quite truedark yet, no. She’d not been unleashed that much.
But enough.
Looking back over her shoulder, Mia saw a legionary raising his shortbow, taking aim toward her heart. She wondered for a moment what would happen if she let the arrow strike home. If it could truly pierce what had already been broken. Picturing pretty blue eyes and a smile that made her want to cry. And then she
Stepped
from Julius’s back
to the archer’s horse, seizing his bow arm and turning it toward another rider. The man cursed in surprise, his arrow flew, striking his brother legionary in his neck and sending him flying off his mount. The archer cried out in alarm, let go of his bow, tried to draw his shortsword. His fellows roared warning, turned their bows on Mia. And the girl
Stepped
to the next horse
in the line as the soldiers loosed their arrows, piercing their comrade a dozen times. He clutched