Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,152
tones, back and forth, all Mia had worked and bled for hanging in the balance. She could have kissed Tric. She could have punched him. But he was competition. First, last and always. She didn’t love him. He didn’t love her. There was no place for it here in the dark, and both of them knew it. Why had he risked so much for her? When she’d never do the same for him?
Mother Drusilla finally spoke, stilling the turmoil in Mia’s mind.
“Very well,” the old woman said. “In light of this new evidence, it would appear Acolyte Mia’s guilt is unassured, and her punishment may be unwarranted. And though it is late in its coming, the Ministry must applaud Acolyte Tric for his honesty. Such bravery should be commended, when considered in light of its price.”
Drusilla turned to the Hands beside her.
“Bind him.”
The robed figures surrounded Tric, dragged him forward to the statue’s base, Drusilla speaking all the while. “Sadly, Acolyte Tric, honesty aside, it seems the penalty inflicted upon Acolyte Hush was not incentive enough to dissuade novices from breaking curfew. Perhaps your own punishment will prevent further disobedience.”
She turned to Marielle.
“One hundred lashes.”
A murmur rolled down the line of acolytes, Tric’s face paling. Even if Adonai prevented him bleeding out, even if Marielle stopped him dying, the agony of a hundred lashes would surely kill him. After all he’d been through, all he’d already suffered, Tric was set to end here in the bowels of this black mountain, screaming in madness and begging for death.
He’d risked all for her. Spoken true, despite knowing what it could cost.
Knowing she’d never do the same for him.
“Revered Mother,” Mia said. “Wait.”
A cool blue stare turned on the girl. “Acolyte?”
She drew a deep breath. Shadow rolling at her feet.
… Would she?
“I asked Tric to come to my room. The fault is at least half mine.” Mia steeled herself. “I should bear half the punishment.”
The hall was still as tombs. The Revered Mother looked down the line of Shahiid, asking each one silently in turn. Mouser shrugged. Solis shook his head, seeming to wager watching Tric being flayed would hurt Mia worse than undergoing the punishment herself. But Aalea nodded, and Spiderkiller also acquiesced, dark eyes fixed on Mia. Drusilla pressed her fingers to her lips, brow creased in thought.
“Bind them both,” she finally said.
The Hands escorted Tric to the statue, locked his wrists. Mia glared at Tric the whole time, shaking her head. The boy stared back, his face drawn and bloodless.
“You fucking idiot,” they whispered simultaneously.
Mia felt her shirt being torn away. She was pressed against the stone, the rock cool beneath her flesh, goosebumps rising on her bare skin. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Adonai and Marielle standing behind her. Her fear was beginning to overcome Mister Kindly’s appetite. Pulse quickening.
But what must it be like for Tric?
The boy couldn’t seem to breathe fast enough, dragging great, heaving lungfuls through clenched teeth. Wide eyes locked on the black stone he was bound to. Mia strained against the manacles, her fingertips managing to find his and squeeze tight.
“Hold on to me,” she whispered.
Tric blinked the sweat from his eyes. Nodded. And then Hands stepped up behind them, and wrapped blindfolds about their eyes, shutting out the light.
Mia felt Tric’s hand clench tight, crushing her fingers in his grip. She knew exactly where he was then. Fourteen years old. Bound to the tree outside his grandfather’s home. Waiting in the dark for the next rock to hit. The next slap. The next gob of spit.
Bastard. Whoreson. Koffi.
“Mister Kindly,” she whispered.
“… no, mia…”
“Help him.”
“… and if i help him, who helps you…?”
She felt Hands checking the manacles at her wrists. Heard footsteps as they backed away. Tric was squeezing her fingers so tight they hurt.
“You told me that to master the darkness without, first I have to face it within…”
“… not here. not like this…”
“If not here, then where?”
She felt her shadow shiver. The fear inside her rising.
“I can do this,” she hissed.
Weaver Marielle’s knuckles popping.
Mother Drusilla’s voice echoing in the blindfold black.
“Begin.”
An empty, endless moment.
“… as it please you…”
The darkness rippled about her feet, one last goodbye. And then Mister Kindly was gone, slipping across the black stone and into Tric’s shadow. She heard the boy’s breath come just a touch easier, the crushing grip on her fingers slackening as the not-cat pounced upon his fear. There, pressed against that chill stone, despite the agony to come, Mia found herself smiling.