Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,134

forget her damn shadow if it wasn’t nailed to her feet.”

Adonai’s smile fell away like winter leaves.

“She may go where she pleases.” A sigh. “I care not.”

Adonai returned to his knees, eyes back on the pool. Dismissing Mia without so much as a word. Ash grabbed her hand, hauled her from the room. Dragging her down the corridor, stopping only once out of sight and earshot of the speaker’s chamber.

“’Byss and blood,” Ash breathed. “I honestly thought he was going to try a snog for a minute.”

“Well, you did tell me to distract him,” Mia said. “Now tell me it worked.”

Ashlinn reached into her britches and drew out a length of gold chain. Mia saw a flare of light, flinching as if scalded, hand to her eyes. “Maw’s teeth, put it back in your pants.”

“You really do leave the door open for me, don’t you?”

Ash tucked the medallion back into her britches, patted Mia’s shoulder. The girl opened her eyes tentatively, relaxing once she knew the Trinity was out of sight.

“You swapped it for the other?”

Ash nodded. “Jess will be none the wiser. Until next time she pulls it on you, that is. That’ll be your signal to kick her in the curlies.” Ash patted her leathers. “I’ll take care of this thing. Put it somewhere no one is going to get hold of it again.”

“The perfect crime,” Mia smiled.

“If it was perfect, it’d end with me getting cake.”

“It’s not ninebells yet.” Mia offered her arm. “Kitchen is still open?”

“See, I knew I liked you for a reason, Corvere.”

Arm in arm, the girls strolled into the dark.

1. Ashlinn’s best hangdog expression could make a legitimate hangdog quit its job, pack its bags and move somewhere quieter to raise chickens.

CHAPTER 24

FRICTION

The turns wore on.

Unsurprisingly, Ashlinn was still leading the pack in Mouser’s contest, though Hush was closing the gap from second. In light of the heightened competition, Mia was grateful her friend had taken the time to help her steal something that wouldn’t count toward the official tally. Acolytes were growing bolder, and trickier items off the list were being filched now, rather than simple trinkets. Still, if Mia were a gambler, she’d have staked her fortune that Ash would finish the year top of Pockets.

Though if Mia actually had a fortune, Ash would’ve likely stolen it by now, friends or no …

Mouser’s lessons were becoming as eclectic and eccentric as the Shahiid himself. He devoted several hours a week to teaching what he called Tongueless,1 and insisted all conversations in his hall be conducted in the language thereafter. In another lesson, Mouser wheeled a wooden tank into the Hall of Pockets. It was filled with dirty water, a handful of lockpicks scattered on the bottom. He proceeded to bind the acolytes’ hands and feet with leaden manacles and push them in one by one.

To his credit, the Shahiid seemed rather pleased nobody drowned.

Lessons in the Hall of Masks were more subtle, and in truth, far more enjoyable. The acolytes were still sent out regularly into Godsgrave, and Mia spent a dozen nevernights lurking in various taverna, working on her wordcraft and plying folk with drink and pretty smiles. She had two young and rather handsome members of the Administratii on a string, and overheard some juicy gossip in a portside brothel about a violent coup among the local braavi. Aalea accepted Mia’s new secrets with a smile and a kiss to each cheek. And if she noticed a change in Mia after the eve she spent in Tric’s bed, the Shahiid politely refused to comment.

In the turns after that night, Mia had resisted the impulse to smile at the boy over mornmeal or stare overlong during lessons. In the interests of keeping her distance, she’d told him she needed no more lessons in bladework. Mia knew letting anything more grow between them would be stupid, and for his part, Tric at least pretended to understand. Still, sometimes she’d catch him staring from the corner of her eye. At night, alone in her room, she’d slip her hand between her legs and try not to picture his face. She succeeded, some of the time.

As time wore on and initiation loomed, testing intensified. Mia had her vendetta against Scaeva and his dogs to keep her focused on her lessons, but every acolyte knew what was at stake. Another of their number had been killed since the Great Tithe masquerade; a boy named Leonis, who had his throat crushed by a stray swing