Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,171

Mister Kindly.”

“… spiderkiller’s contest ends in six turns, mia…”

“I’m glad you’re here to tell me these things.”

“… you should have just won solis’s edge and been done with it…”

“Then Tric wouldn’t have become a Blade.”

“… better him than you…?”

Mia flopped down on the bed, eyes on the ceiling. Saying nothing. Thoughts racing in her head. Everything Mister Kindly said was true. There were bigger things at stake here than she and Tric. Scaeva. Duomo. Remus. All she’d worked for. Only a trained assassin of the Red Church was ending any of those bastards—her attack last truedark was proof enough of that. If she didn’t finish top of hall, who knew if she’d become a Blade at all? Why in the Daughters’ names hadn’t she just—

“… you are letting your feelings for the boy cloud your judgment…”

“I don’t have any feelings for the boy.”

“… o, really…?”

“Yes, really.”

“… then why spend months training in secret with naev only to—”

A knock sounded at her door. Mia rose from her bed, padded across the room. Tric was waiting on the other side, saltlocks tumbled about his face. Mia’s heart beat a little quicker to see him. Those damned butterflies back in her belly. She grit her teeth, caught them with her fingers and plucked their wings away. Killing them one by one.

“Good turn to you, Don Tric.”

“And you, Pale Daughter.”

She looked down to the boy’s shirt. He wore a simple pin at his breast—a musical clef carved of polished ironwood. He’d been presented with the brooch at tourney’s end by Solis himself; proof that he’d finished top of the Shahiid’s hall.

“Congratulations,” Mia said.

The boy nodded. Chewed his lip. “Can I come in?”

Mia looked up and down the hallway, and seeing no other acolytes, stepped aside. For insects with no wings, those butterflies still seemed to be making an awful commotion.

“Drink?” she asked, turning to her stolen goldwine.

“No. I won’t be here long.”

She heard the odd note in his voice. Turned to stare up at him, those hazel eyes hard as stone. His shoulders were set, like a man preparing to charge.

“You let me win,” he said.

“No.” Mia shook her head. “I fought hard as I could.”

“But you made me fight harder.”

She shrugged. “I knew you’d fight soft, otherwise.”

“Know me so well, do you?”

“I know how you feel about me.”

“O, really. And how’s that?”

Mia dropped her gaze, ran a hand through her hair. Searching the shadows at her feet. The truth was lying plain there for her to see. She lifted her eyes to Tric’s, unable to speak it. Hoping he heard it anyway.

The boy shook his head. His gaze still hard. Voice harder. “You knew what saying that word would do to me. You know what it means.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “You know me well enough to know I didn’t mean it. But I had to make you angry. I knew you’d let me win, otherwise. I can still finish top of Truths. I didn’t need to top Songs.”

“I don’t need your fucking pity, Mia.”

“Maw’s teeth, it’s not about pity! There’s room enough for both of us on the roster. You’ve finished top of hall, now you’re practically guaranteed to become a Blade. One step closer to standing on your grandfather’s grave. We made a promise we’d see each other have our vengeance, remember? I want what what’s best for you, don’t you see that?”

“And so you play me like a lyre, neh? Twist me up inside and send me blind.” Tric shook his head. “Aalea teach you that, did she? Little Mia Corvere. Wolf in crow’s feathers. You’ve got us all fooled. Me, Diamo, Jessamine. Who else is dancing to your tune and doesn’t even know it? Who else are you going to kill to get your way?”

“Four Daughters, Tric, this isn’t a bloody—”

“A bloody nursery! I know! You’ve told me a thousand fucking times, Mia.”

“And how many times do I have to say it before it sinks in?”

“Never again.”

The words hit her like a buckler to the jaw. Though she’d deny it to herself afterward, she actually flinched to hear them.

“We were fools to let it get this far. You hear me, Mia?” Tric pointed to her. To himself. “You and me? Never. Again.”

“Tric, I—”

He slammed the door as he left.

Mia stared down at her empty palms. Tric’s accusations echoing in her skull.

She pictured Diamo’s face. The agony in his eyes as he begged for his life. But he’d deserved it, hadn’t he? For Lotti?

His cries were echoing inside her head, intertwined