“Cigarillos?” the boy said, eyeing her with distaste. “Must you?”
“I must,” Mia nodded, propping one at her lips and striking her new flintbox.
“My mother said only strumpets and fools smoke.”
“And which am I, brother mine?” she asked, sighing gray.
The boy watched her with lips pressed thin. “Perhaps both?”
Eclipse coalesced on the boards between them, placing her head in Mia’s lap.
“… YOU SHOULD NOT SPEAK TO HER SO, JONNEN…”
“I shall speak to her how I choose,” the boy declared.
“… DO YOU REMEMBER I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE LITTLE BOY I KNEW? CASSIUS…?”
“Yes,” the boy sniffed, eyeing the wolf sidelong.
“… HE ALWAYS SAID BLOOD STAINS DEEPER THAN WINE. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS…?”
The boy shook his head.
“… IT MEANS FAMILIA CAN HURT YOU MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE. BUT THAT IS ONLY BECAUSE THEY MATTER MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE. WHEN YOU SPEAK SO, THOUGH MIA DOES NOT SHOW IT, IT WOUNDS HER…”
“Good,” he snapped. “I do not like her. I do not wish to be here.”
Jonnen looked out to the blue waters rushing along their flanks.
“I want to go home,” he said.
“We’ll pass it in a week or so,” Mia nodded to the Itreyan coast. “Crow’s Nest.”
“That is not my home, Kingmaker.”
“… HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS, CHILD…”
Mia tapped her breast and smiled. “Explains my empty chest.”
“… FOOLISHNESS…,” Eclipse scoffed. “… YOU HAVE THE HEART OF A LION…”
“A crow, perhaps.” She wiggled her fingers at the wolf. “Black and shriveled.”
“… YOU WILL KNOW THE LIE OF THAT BEFORE THE END OF THIS, MIA. I PROMISE…”
Mia smiled and took a slow drag, reveling in the warmth of the smoke in her lungs. Looking sidelong toward Jonnen. Brother. Stranger. He was clever, that much was certain: education from the finest tutors in the Republic, coupled with the fierce intelligence of Alinne Corvere and the cunning of Julius Scaeva. Watching the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, Mia suspected he’d grow up even sharper than she was. There was a cruel streak in him, learned from his father, most like. But there was a cruelty to her, too, she supposed. Jonnen was still her blood, her familia. The only kind she had left, unless you counted the bastard she was going to kill. And after all these years without one, she found herself aching for some kind of real connection with him.
“I remember the nevernight you were born there,” she told the boy. “In Crow’s Nest. I was barely older than you are now. The midwife brought me in to meet you, and Mother handed you over to me and you started screaming. Just … screaming like the world was ending.” Mia shook her head. “’Byss and blood, you had some lungs on you.”
Another drag, eyes narrowed against the smoke.
“Mother told me to sing to you,” she said. “She said even though your eyes were shut, you’d know your sister. So I sang. And you stopped crying. Like someone threw a lever inside your head.” She shook her head. “Damnedest thing.”
“My mother does not sing,” Jonnen said. “She dislikes music.”
“O, no, she loved it,” Mia insisted. “She used to sing all the time, she—”
“My mother is Liviana Scaeva,” the boy said. “Wife of the imperator.”
Mia felt a rush of blood to her cheeks. Pulse thudding in her temple. Despite herself, she felt her brows drawing together in a scowl. Breathing smoke like fire.
“Your mother was Alinne Corvere,” she said. “Victim of the imperator.”
“Liar,” the boy scowled.
“Jonnen, why would I—”
“You’re a liar! A liar!”
“And you’re a fucking brat,” she snapped.
“Villain,” he spat. “Thief. Killer.”
“Like father, like daughter, I suppose.”
“My father is a great man!” Jonnen cried.
“Your father’s a cunt.”
“And your mother a whore!”
It took everything Mia had in her not to raise her hand to him again.
“… MIA…”
She hauled herself to her feet, her patience in flames. Shaking with anger. Wanting to bite her tongue but afraid the blood would just fill her mouth and drown her. Talking to the boy was like bashing her head into a brick wall. Trying to crack his shell was like fumbling at a lock with ten fucking thumbs. She’d no practice at being a big sister, no talent for it besides. And so, as was usual, frustration unlocked the door and let her temper out to run free instead.
“I’m trying, Jonnen,” she said. “Maw’s teeth, I am. If you were anyone else, I’d have kicked your arse over the side for what you said just now. But don’t you ever speak like that about