Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,147

clues when Floodcaller got his throat cut. More than half of us have died since then and not a tear’s been shed for any of them.”

Solis glowered, blind eyes flashing. “I would counsel you to watch your tone when you speak to your betters, girl. Your distaste for Jessamine is well known. The beatings she’s given you in the Hall of Songs would be reason enough for you to spread lies about her now. And if there are any among this congregation who stood to benefit from Carlotta’s death, it was you.”

Mia blinked. Gobsmacked. “What?”

“You said yourself she was close to solving Shahiid Spiderkiller’s quandary. If Carlotta did concoct the antidote, your best chance to finish top of hall would be lost, neh? You certainly have a sunsbeam’s chance in the ’byss of standing victorious in the Hall of Songs.”

“You miserable…”

“Mia,” Tric warned, putting a hand on her arm.

“… black-hearted…”

“Corvere,” Ash muttered.

“… fucking…”

“… mia…”

“PRICK!” Mia roared. “She was my friend! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Solis brought his fist down on the workbench and bellowed. “I am a Shahiid of the Red Church! The Mother’s Blade on this earth, thirty-six sanctified kills wrought in her name! And I swear you will be the thirty-seventh if you dare speak to me so again!”

Mia took one step forward, rage burning in her chest. She knew better than anyone what it meant to cross Solis. But she was still heedless, ever fearless, Mister Kindly swallowing caution whole. Tric and Ash grabbed her arms, pulled her into check. But it was the Revered Mother’s voice that finally brought still to the room.

“Where were you yestereve, Acolyte?”

Drusilla tilted her head, peered at Carlotta’s body.

“Sometime around three bells?”

Spittle on Mia’s lips. Eyes narrowed. Jaw clenched. “Abed, of course.”

“No one to account for your whereabouts, then.”

“… No.”

The Revered Mother fixed her in a cool blue stare. “Interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?”

“I’ve ventilated a few throats in my years.” Drusilla motioned to Carlotta’s corpse. “From the wound’s look, I would judge the killer to be left-handed.”

Silence descended on the room. Ashlinn and Tric exchanged uneasy glances, the sweat on Mia’s skin beginning to cool. The Mother was looking right at her.

“Jessamine is ambidextrous,” Mia said. “She fights just as well with either hand.”

“And which hand do you favor, Acolyte?”

“… My left, Mother Drusilla.”

The old woman motioned to the desk. Mia noticed a faint outline in the blood spatter, as if a rectangular object had been sitting in front of Lotti as her throat was opened, shielding the bench from some of the spray.

“Carlotta was obviously working on something as she was murdered. It would seem to be around the shape of a book. A journal perhaps. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Acolyte?”

“Carlotta kept her notes on Spiderkiller’s antidote in there. Everyone knew that.”

The Revered Mother tilted her head. “Interesting.”

Mia met the Mother’s stare without blinking. Spiderkiller’s voice broke the still.

“We have work to do, Acolytes. You should be about your mornmeal. I will see you back here for Truths at lesson time.”

Ash took Mia’s hand, dragged her from the hall. The trio ate a lifeless meal at the Sky Altar, Mia’s glare fixed on Diamo. The big Itreyan watched her with cool, dead eyes, daring her to make a play. Jessamine was nowhere to be seen.

Mia grit her teeth. Food like dust and death in her mouth. Ash’s whispers unheard. Blood pounding in her ears. Tric insisted he step forward, testify that he’d spent the night in Mia’s bed. That she couldn’t have killed Carlotta. But Tric’s session with the weaver had finished well after ninebells—he’d had dispensation only to return to his room, certainly not to go wandering into Mia’s. So in the end she pleaded with him to keep silent. There was no sense in Tric risking torture until she knew how hot the water she swam in was.

During lessons in the Hall of Truths, Mia couldn’t tear her eyes from Carlotta’s empty chair. The faint bloodstain that even Spiderkiller’s arkemy couldn’t quite bleach from the ironwood bench. She pictured the girl’s final moments. Hunched over her notebook. Head pulled back by a quick hand. The brief seconds of terror between the time she felt the blade and the time the blackness took her.

Mia stared at Jessamine, who’d joined the class only seconds before it began. A silent vow echoing in her head.

This will be the end of you, bitch …

“Mia Corvere.”

Mia blinked. Looked up from Jessamine’s face to find Revered Mother