Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,173

odd times to avoid him. And if her dreams were visited by the boy in the few hours she actually slept, Mister Kindly devoured them before they had a chance to bother her.

With two turns until contest’s end, Mia was bent over a boiling flask in the Hall of Truths. Ninebells had been struck, but she’d received dispensation to be out after curfew from Spiderkiller again. The perfume of burned sweetness and dead rat hung in the air. Entwined in her hair. Blurring her eyes.

Mia heard the doors open.

She looked up expecting to see Spiderkiller, but instead, Mia saw bright blue eyes. Pale skin and sharp cheekbones. A boy more beautiful than handsome.

The huge double doors closed silently behind him.

Mia’s hand went to the stiletto in her sleeve.

“Hello, Hush,” she said.

The boy, of course, said nothing. Walking quietly across the hall to stand in front of Mia. He watched her through the glassware, lips pressed together.

His hands were behind his back.

Mia was tense as a mekwerk spring. This was the room Lotti had been killed in, after all. Mister Kindly had warned her Jessamine and Diamo might not be the culprits. Hush had been caught wandering after ninebells, but no one had ever explained exactly what he’d been doing when he was discovered, and here he was, out of his chambers after ninebells again. And nobody had ever found out what happened to Floodcaller …

The boy’s silence was utter; not just his lips, but his entire person. He made no sound as he walked. As he breathed. When he moved, even the fabric of his clothes was voiceless. And his damned hands were still behind his back.

“You shouldn’t be out after curfew,” Mia said.

Hush simply smiled.

“… Can I help you with something?”

The boy slowly shook his head.

Mister Kindly coalesced behind Hush, watching. Every muscle in Mia’s body was wound tight. The shadows around her rippling as her fingers twitched. Her own shadow began to bend, snaking across the floor, longer and darker than it should have been. And Hush took his hands out from behind his back and showed them empty.

Mia sighed. Released her knife. Hush began to speak in Tongueless, his fingers moving so rapidly Mia had trouble following.

help you

Mia signed back, a little clumsier than the boy.

help me with what?

The boy motioned to the bubbling mixtures, the phials and condensers and jars. Mia recalled the sight of him at the scourging. Those toothless gums exposed as he silently screamed. Her hands moved quickly, eyes never leaving his.

why?

Hush paused at that. A faint frown marring that perfect brow.

i’ve been watching

you don’t belong here

It was Mia’s turn to frown now. Confused. Insulted.

what does that mean?

The boy’s hands swayed, deft fingers crafting words from the silence.

after the scourging

you were the only one

to ask if i was all right

no one else cared

Hush shook his head.

you don’t belong here

Mia scowled.

and you do?

The boy nodded.

ugly like the rest of them

Mia found herself confounded. She walked around the spires of bubbling glass, the sweet smell of death. Stood before the boy and took his hands, whispering.

“Hush, what are you talking about? You’re nothing close to ugly.”

The boy actually laughed at that. His vocal chords were atrophied from disuse, the guffaw emerging as little more than a squeak. He clapped his hands to his mouth and convulsed, but she still caught a glimpse of the toothless gums behind those bow-shaped lips. The cracks behind his eyes.

“What happened to you?” she breathed.

The boy’s gaze was intense. Eyes like a sunsburned sky.

slaved

“But you’ve got no slavemark.”

The boy shook his head.

they kept us pretty

“… They?”

pleasure house

Mia’s stomach ran cold as she watched him sign the words. She knew immediately what the boy meant. Where he’d come from. Who had owned him before this, and why they’d knocked out every one of his teeth.

“O, Goddess,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry, Hush.”

you see?

The boy’s lips twisted in what might have been a smile.

you don’t belong here

He looked around the room, the boiling liquid and dead rats, rot and rust in the air.

but kindness should reap kindness

even in a field like this

The boy reached into his britches, and for a moment Mia found her hand straying to her sleeve again. The dark about them trembling. But rather than some hidden shiv, the boy produced a notebook, bound in black leather. He opened to a random page. Mia saw notes in code—a variant of the Elberti sequence mixed with some homebrew. Recognizing the handwriting. The cipher itself.

“That’s Carlotta’s notebook,” she breathed.

The boy nodded.

“Where