“All I hear, Kingmaker,” he spat, “are lies from the mouth of a murderer.”
She took a deep breath. Head lowered, eyes closed.
“I hope you like storms more than you did when you were a babe,” she said, looking at him again. “There’s a big one headed our way. And if I hear you crying in your sleep, I’ll not come singing this time.”
“I hate you,” the boy hissed.
She flicked her cigarillo over the railing, breathing smoke.
“Like father, like son, I suppose.”
* * *
It wasn’t a bath so much as a brass barrel.
It was bolted to the floor in Corleone’s quarters—an en suite off the bedchamber, which in turn led off from the main cabin. Mia’s first thought when she laid eyes on it was to wonder where exactly the brigand was supposed to fit if she’d taken him up on his offer to bring the soap. She’d be able to squeeze in there with a little effort, but it wasn’t exactly palatial in scope.
This alleged “bath” had more in common with a bucket.
Still, the water in it was steaming, fed by pipes from the arkemical stove in the galley below. And as Mia stripped naked and sank into the heat, she understood why Corleone had indulged in such an extravagance.
“O, Black fucking Mother,” she groaned. “That is gooood.”
She dunked her head after some clumsy maneuvering and found if she hung her legs out over the lip, she could get most of her body submerged. Leaning back, she soaked a washcloth and draped it over her face. Lighting another cigarillo, she breathed a contented gray sigh, listening to the song of the sea outside.
“I could be a pirate,” she mumbled, smoke bobbing on her lips. “Avast, ye lubbers. Hoist the giblets. Stow the mizzen-whatsit, you pig-loving fuck-monkey—”
“Alone at last,” said a voice.
Mia dragged the washcloth away, saw Ashlinn leaning against the door. She wore a drakebone corset over her red shirt, leather leggings, and thigh-high boots. She’d bought some herbs in Whitekeep, washed the henna from her hair. It’d been let loose from her braids, rolling down her shoulders in golden waterfalls.
“Two isn’t alone,” Mia said.
Ash ran a finger down the doorframe. “I can leave. If you like.”
“No,” Mia smiled. “Stay.”
Ash’s face brightened and she slipped into the en suite, closing the door behind her. There was nowhere to sit, so she straddled the barrel instead. Plucking the cigarillo from Mia’s mouth, Ashlinn leaned down to plant a light kiss on her lips. She remained hovering close, their noses brushing against one another, ticklish.
“Hello,” Ash whispered.
“Hello,” Mia replied.
Ash leaned in and they kissed again, soft and warm and altogether dizzying. Ashlinn’s lips parted, inviting, and Mia felt the girl shiver as their tongues touched, light as feathers. She sighed into Ash’s open mouth, raising one hand to caress her cheek as their kiss deepened. Drowning in it, never wanting to come up for air, sucking Ash’s bottom lip as they slowly pulled apart.
Opening her eyes, she saw Ash’s face just an inch from hers. Their lips brushed together as the girl murmured.
“You kiss like you kill, Mia Corvere.”
“And how’s that?”
“With finesse.”
Mia smirked and Ashlinn kissed her again, again, again, a dozen whisper-light touches scattered across her lips and cheeks like rose petals.
“I missed you,” Mia sighed.
“How much?”
“Not entirely sure how to measure that,” Mia frowned. “Couple of feet, maybe?”
“Fuck you.”
“Bath isn’t big enough for that.”
“I hate you.”
“Strange. I hate everyone but you.”
“Sit up,” Ash grinned, kissing her again. “I’ll wash your back.”
Ashlinn swung herself off the tub so Mia could wrangle herself upright, rest her head on her arms, and lean forward. Ash sat behind, legs slung on either side of the barrel. Mia couldn’t see what she was doing, but she soon felt warm, soapy hands across her shoulders, the scent of honeysuckle and sunsbell in the air. Ash pressed her thumbs into Mia’s aching muscles, kneading the knots of tension like dough.
“O, Black Mother, that’s … fucking … good…,” Mia groaned.
She closed her eyes and let Ash’s hands shush everything away for a moment. Her frustration at Jonnen and her anger at Mister Kindly. Her worries about Sid and the others, the thought of what was waiting for them across the ocean in Ashkah. Mercurio and the Moon and his damned crown.
Ash was keeping quiet about Tric, too, even though they could both feel the question of him hanging like frost in the air. She was too smart to bring him