with her mother above the mob, looking down on that horrid scaffold, the line of nooses swinging in the wintersdeep wind. She could still feel the rain upon her face and Alinne’s arm across her breast, another hand at her neck, holding her pinned so she must look outward as they tied the noose around the Kingmaker’s neck. The words Alinne Corvere whispered ringing in Mia’s ears now as clear as the turn she’d first uttered them.
“Never flinch. Never fear. And never, ever forget.”
Alinne must have known what she was making. Knew the seeds of hatred she was planting in her daughter. The vengeance that must grow from it. The blood that must flow. And all over the death of a man who—though he may well have loved her—wasn’t Mia’s father at all. And if she must be furious—and O, Goddess, she was—at Scaeva’s claim that he’d made her all she was, how could she be less angry at the woman who’d stood behind her there on that windblown parapet? Forcing her to watch? Speaking the words that had shaped her, ruled her, ruined her?
Could she still love a woman like that?
And if not, could she hate the man who’d killed her?
Why did she hate Julius Scaeva? When all she’d based her life on was a lie? Was he so different from Alinne and Darius Corvere, save in that he’d emerged the victor? He was a killer, remorseless and cold, that much was certain. A man who’d drenched himself in the blood of dozens, perhaps hundreds, to get his way.
But wasn’t that true of everyone who played this game?
Even me?
Eclipse’s hackles rippled as Scaeva’s serpent slithered closer. The shadowwolf’s growl dragged Mia out of the darkness within, back into the burning light in that study, glinting on the black pawn in Scaeva’s upturned palm.
“… STAY BACK…,” Eclipse warned.
“… Nothing to fear, pup…,” the serpent hissed in reply.
“… STAY BACK…”
Eclipse took a swipe at the shadowviper with her paw, and Mia’s eyes widened as she saw a fine mist of black spatter on the floor, evaporate to nothingness. The serpent reared back, hissing in cold fury.
“… You will regret that insult, little dog…”
“… I DO NOT FEAR YOU, WORM…”
The shadowviper opened its black maw, hissing again.
“Whisper,” Scaeva said. “Enough.”
The serpent hissed again, but held still.
“Mia means us no harm,” Scaeva said, staring at his daughter. “She’s intelligent enough to know where she stands. And pragmatic enough to realize that, if anything unpleasant were to happen to us, her dear Old Mercurio would be treated to the most gruesome of tortures before he was sent to meet his dear dark Goddess.”
Mia’s stomach rolled at the threat against Mercurio, but she tried to keep her face like stone. The serpent turned to regard her darkin counterpart, swaying as if to music only it could hear.
“… She fears, Julius…”
Scaeva gifted Mia a smile that never reached his eyes.
“So. Itreya’s most infamous murderer is capable of love. How touching.”
Mia bristled at that. Felt a soft ripple in the air, glanced toward their shadows on the wall. Where once Scaeva’s had reached out as if to embrace her own, it was now poised, crook-backed and claw-fingered. Reaching toward her own shadow’s throat.
“Where is your brother, Mia?”
“Safe,” she replied.
Scaeva stood slowly, hand drifting to the Trinity hidden at his throat.
“You will bring him to me.”
“I take no orders from you.”
“You will bring him to me, or your mentor dies.”
Mia’s voice turned soft with menace. “If you hurt Mercurio, I swear by the Goddess you will never see your son again.”
She saw fury boiling in his eyes then. A fury born of fear. Even with all his control, his much-vaunted will, Scaeva still couldn’t quite keep it from her. She could sense it on him, sure as she could sense the suns above.
Her mind was working. Probing at the cracks in his facade, the tiny glimpses he’d given her behind his mask. He’d spoken of building a dynasty that would last a thousand years. And granted, that would be hard to do without his only son. But still, he was imperator now. He could cast off his barren wife, have any woman he wanted. Black Mother, he could take a dozen wives. Sire a hundred sons.
So why is he afraid?
Mia tossed her hair over her shoulder, glancing again at the silhouettes on the wall. Scaeva’s shadow was moving now, its motion violent and sudden. Her own was responding in kind, elongating, distorting, dark shapes unfurling at its back.