hand.
“Give me the sword, Ash.”
Ashlinn looked down at the longblade at her waist. She’d recovered it from Mia’s chambers in the Godsgrave chapel. It was gravebone, sharp as sunslight, its hilt carved like a crow in flight. The sword had once belonged to Darius Corvere, taken from his study in Crow’s Nest by Marcus Remus. Mia had killed Remus in turn—cut his throat in a dusty shithole on the coast of Ashkah, and claimed the blade as her own.
Avenging her father, or so she thought.
“I love you, Mia.”
“I love you, too.”
“Give it to me,” Mia said.
“Why?” Ash asked.
“Because it’s mine.”
“Mia…” Ashlinn rose to her feet, caution and care turning her voice to velvet. “Mia, whatever you’re thinking … you’re exhausted. You’re wounded. What Tric just told us … it can’t be easy to—”
“Give me the fucking sword, Ashlinn!” Mia shouted.
The shadows flared, the darkness ringing in her voice and turning it to hollow iron. The darkness twisted about her feet, mad patterns and shapes, strobing black. The red-amber eyes of the crow on the hilt twinkled in the ghostly light. The pool behind her rippled, as if kissed by the smallest stone.
Ashlinn went pale beneath her freckles. Mia saw she was actually trembling. But she still stood her ground. Gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists to stop the shakes. Standing up to Mia like nobody else ever dared.
“No,” she replied.
Mia growled. “Ash, I’m warning you…”
“Warn me all you like,” Ash said, taking a deep breath. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re hurt. But you need to think.” She waved at the dark behind and below Mia. “Away from this cursed pool. With the blood washed off your skin and a cigarillo in your hand and a nevernight’s sleep between you and all this shit.”
Mia scowled, but the iron in her stare wavered.
“Give me my sword, Ashlinn.”
The girl reached out and ran one gentle hand down the cruel scar on Mia’s cheek. Along the bow of her lips. The look in her eyes melted Mia’s heart.
“I love you, Mia,” Ash said. “Even the part of you that frightens me. But you’ve been hurt enough for one turn. I’ll not see you hurt again.”
Tears welled in Mia’s eyes. Black rising from beneath the red. The walls loomed about her, ready to come crashing down. Her hands fluttered at her sides as if she were desperate for an embrace, but too torn to beg for one. With a murmur of pity, a glance to the Hearthless boy watching them, Ashlinn stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Mia. She kissed her brow, pulled her in tight, Mia sinking into her arms.
“I love you,” Ash whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Mia breathed into Ashlinn’s hair, hands roaming her back.
“It’s all right.”
“No.” Mia’s hands moved down over Ashlinn’s hips, her fingers brushing the longsword’s hilt. And with a flourish, Mia drew the blade from the scabbard and stepped back out of Ash’s reach. “It isn’t.”
“You…” Ashlinn’s eyes were wide, mouth open. “You … fucking…”
“Bitch?”
Mia flipped the sword in her hand, wiping her tears away on her grubby sleeve.
“Aye,” she nodded. “But I’m a clever fucking bitch.”
Mia turned to Tric, sniffed hard, and spat.
“How do I get out of here?”
“YOU MUST LISTEN—”
“I must nothing,” Mia snapped. “Julius Scaeva is in Godsgrave, do you understand that? The real Julius Scaeva. A hundred thousand people saw him cut down by an assassin’s blade. He needs to show himself in front of the mob to assure them all is well before the city goes up in flames. And his doppelgänger is dead. So are you going to show me the way out of this fucking hole, or leave me to wander in the dark playing guess-a-game? Because one way or another, I’m going back up to the ’Grave.”
“I remember the path we walked here on,” came a small voice.
Mia looked to her brother, standing on the black shoreline in his grubby purple robes. The boy was watching her with his big dark eyes, obviously not quite sure what to make of her anymore. He’d not wanted to believe they were siblings, that was plain enough. But if what Ash said about his father still being alive was true, then it all might be true. And when Mia had been the one who killed his da, it was simple—she was an enemy, hated and feared. But now Jonnen knew his father still lived, how did he feel about the sister he’d never known?
“You do?” Mia asked.
The boy nodded. “I’ve