“Don’t mind him,” Mia said. “He’s a spoiled little shit.”
“I am the son of an imperator!” the boy cried shrilly.
“But you’re not above a spanking! So mind your fucking manners!”
Mia glowered at the boy, engaged in a silent battle of wills.
“Ah…,” BigJon tried. “More wine?”
“O, yes, please,” Mia said, holding out her glass.
A more comfortable silence settled over the table as Mia got her refill and folk got down to eating. Mia had spent the last eight months dining on the various questionable broths and swills cooked up in the Remus Collegium—this was the first decent feed she’d had in as long as she could remember. She started stuffing her face, using more wine to wash her ambitious mouthfuls down. The lamb was delicious, hot, perfectly seasoned, the greens crunchy and tart. Even Jonnen seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Are you not eating, Don Tric?” Corleone asked. “I can have the galley fix something else if this displeases.”
“THE DEAD HAVE NO NEED OF FOOD, CAPTAIN.”
“And yet they insist on coming to the dinner table, regardless,” Ashlinn muttered around a mouthful.
“… EXCUSE ME?”
“Pass the salt, dwarf,” Jonnen demanded.
“Oi!” Mia thumped the table. “He’s not a dwarf, he’s a littleman!”
“No, I am a little man,” the boy said with a smug smile, pointing to BigJon with his fork. “He is a dwarf. And I will be taller tomorrow.”
“That’s fucking it,” Mia said, rising to her feet. “Go to your room!”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked. “I am the son of—”
“I give no fucks for whose son you are. You’re a guest at this table and you don’t talk to people that way. You want to be treated with respect, little brother? Start by treating others to it. Because it’s earned, not fucking owed.” Mia leaned forward and glowered. “Now go. To. Your. Room!”
The boy stared at his sister. His eyes narrowed. The shadows about him shivered and snapped like bullwhips, echoing the rage in his eyes. Some of the cutlery began rattling on the tabletop.
“… Mia?” Ash asked.
“… MIA…?”
In a blinking, the shadows turned sharp and pointed like knives, lashing out at her throat. Mia scowled, jaw clenched, wresting the dark from her brother’s grip with but a thought. He was furious, aye. But she was older. Stronger. Far, far deeper. Seizing control over them was literally akin to wrestling them from a child. And with a toss of her head and a whip of her will, the shadows snapped back into their usual shapes.
“I shall smile when they hang you, Kingmaker,” he hissed.
“Take a number and queue up, little brother,” she replied. “In the meantime, get your arse back to your cabin before I kick it.”
The boy’s lip wobbled as he admitted defeat. Cheeks pinking with fury. And without another word, he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind.
“Eclipse, could you keep an eye on him?” Mia murmured.
“… AS ONLY THE EYELESS CAN…”
The shadowwolf rose from beneath Mia’s chair and faded from sight. Mia sank back down into her seat, elbows to table, head in her hands.
“Littleman?” BigJon said into the silence following.
“Apologies.” Mia waved one hand. “If that offends.”
BigJon leaned forward and batted his eyes. “Will you marry me, dona?”
“Get in line, littleman,” Ashlinn smiled, squeezing Mia’s hand.
“JUST DO NOT TURN YOUR BACK,” Tric said. “ASHLINN DISLIKES COMPETITION.”
“Black fucking Mother.” Ash thumped her fork down, three turns’ worth of tension finally getting the best of her. “Must you take every opportunity to have a stab at me?”
“AN INTERESTING CHOICE OF WORDS, GIVEN WHAT YOU DID TO ME.”
“It’s called irony, Tricky,” Ashlinn snarled. “Old playwright’s technique. I’d have thought you an expert on drama, the way you’re laying it on.”
“LAYING IT ON?”
“Aye, a little thick, don’t you think?”
“YOU MURDERED ME!” Tric cried, rising from his seat.
“I did what had to be done!” Ashlinn shouted, rising along with him. “You said yourself the Red Church has lost its way! Well, I’ve been trying to take it down longer than any of you! I’m sorry you had to go, but that’s just how it is! And I stabbed you friendways, in case you’ve forgot. In the front, not the damned back. I can’t undo it, so what the fuck do you want from me?”
“A HINT OF REGRET? SOME SHRED OF REMORSE? FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND SOME SMALL PART OF WHAT YOU TOOK FROM ME?”
“Remorse is for the weak, Tricky,” Ash said. “And regret is for cowards.”
“YOU’VE GOT NOTHING INSIDE YOU, DO YOU? NOT A SHRED OF CONSCIENCE OR A—”