Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,101

writhing across the floor. She glanced up as another scream echoed down the corridor. Swallowing hard and searching for her voice.

“So Shahiid Aalea’s trial was just a ruse?”

“O, no. The acolyte who gifts her the finest secret will still finish top of Masks. And all of you will be sent to this city time and again in search of them, have no doubt. We simply take this opportunity to test the waters, so to speak.”

“The other acolytes who came to Godsgrave? You’re testing them, too?”

“We test you all.”

“… Did any break?”

“Someone always breaks.”

The man searched Mia’s eyes. Waiting, perhaps, for some kind of rebuke.

Mia remained mute, meeting that bottomless stare, fighting the illness in her gut. The greasy tang of bile hung in the back of her throat, her hands shaking so badly she was forced to grip the chair to still them. What was it about this man that affected her so? Was it because he was of her kind? The dark in him, calling to the dark in her?

She heard soft, padded footsteps behind her. That low wolf growl.

Eclipse …

“You’re the first darkin I’ve ever met,” she finally said. “Ever spoken to.”

“Perhaps the last,” he replied. “You stand many a nevernight from initiation. And if you think our kinship will buy you favor in the Mother’s halls, you are sorely mistaken.”

The Black Prince’s eyes were deathly cold. His beauty colder still. Mia could feel the shadowwolf behind her, prowling closer. Mister Kindly puffed up in her shadow and hissed, and a low chuckling resounded from the stones at her feet. The question clawed at her tongue until she gave it voice; a thin whisper hanging in the air like smoke.

“What are we?”

“What do you suppose we are?”

“Mercurio, Drusilla…” Mia swallowed. “They say we’re the Mother’s chosen.”

The hair on back of her neck stood on end as the Lord of Blades laughed.

“Is that what you believe yourself to be, little darkin? Chosen?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” she hissed. “I was hoping you could teach me.”

“What to believe?”

“What I am.”

“It matters not what you are,” Cassius said. “Only that you are. And if you seek an answer to some greater riddle of yourself, seek it not from me until you’ve earned it. In one measure, and one measure alone, you should be content. For in this, if nothing else, we are the same.”

Mia’s stomach surged as the Lord of Blades leaned in closer, drawing a dagger from his sleeve. And reaching down, he sliced through the rope at her wrists.

“We are killers, you and I,” he said. “Killers one, killers all. And each death we bring is a prayer. An offering to Our Lady of Blessed Murder. Death as a mercy. Death as a warning. Death as an end unto itself. All of these, ours to know and gift unto the world. The wolf does not pity the lamb. The storm begs no forgiveness of the drowned.”

He searched her eyes again, his voice thrumming in her breast as he spoke.

“But first and foremost, we are servants. Disciples. Surrounded by foes. Loyal unto the death. We do not bend and we do not break. Ever. This is the truth you learn in this cell. This is the first answer to any question of self you might ask. And if it does not sit well with you, Acolyte, if you think perhaps you have made a mistake in coming to us, now is the time to speak.”

So. No answers. Just more riddles. If Cassius held some greater truth about darkin, he wasn’t about to share it here. Perhaps ever. Or perhaps, as he said, not until she earned it.

And so, with a wince, Mia rose slowly from the chair. Her legs were shaking. Sick to her bones. She was cold. Damp. Reeking of bay water and blood. Cheek swollen, eye bruised, lip split. Dragging sodden hair from her cheek, she met Cassius’s stare.

Held out her hand.

“Can I have my cigarillos back?”

It took the best of her, but she held it inside.

Escorted from the basement cell. Down the bright boardwalk and back to the hidden tunnels beneath the Porkery. A wooden box sealed with tallow clutched in her hands. A gravebone dagger up her sleeve. Not a whisper on her lips.

The Blood Walk back to the Mountain was no easier the second time through. Mia stripped away her clothes, stepped naked into the scarlet pool beneath the abattoir. She fell beneath the flood, tempted for a moment to simply stay there forever