Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,176

even his manhood—stand for something.

And now, neither one of them looked set to be initiated at all.

“That goat-loving, mule-sucking, pig-fucking sonofabitch,” Ash growled.

The girl was pacing the length of Mia’s bedchamber, Mia herself nestled among her pillows. One of her last cigarillos sat on her lips. The last of her stolen goldwine sat untouched in two cups on Mia’s nightstand.

“How the ’byss did he do it?” Ash demanded.

“He’s clever,” Mia shrugged. “Cleverer than anyone pegged him for. I wonder if he didn’t get caught out after ninebells intentionally.”

“Took a scourging on purpose, you think?”

“Maybe. Just so we’d think him a rube.”

“Well, it bloody worked.”

Mia sighed a lungful of gray. “That it did.”

“And now I’m cooked.” Ash scowled, started pacing again. “Mouser’s trial was mine to lose. And now I’ve gone and fucking lost it. Lord Cassius will be back here in two turns for initiation. You’ll be drinking the Mother’s milk at the banquet with the other Blades and I’m going to be stuck with the rest of the chaff being inducted into the Hands. Presuming they don’t just fail me outright and gift me to the Mother.”

Mia dragged on her cigarillo, eyes narrowed against the smoke. “You should probably spend the nevernight moaning about it, then.”

Ash rounded on Mia with a withering glance. “Your sympathies are sincerely appreciated, Corvere. My thanks.”

“Fuck sympathy,” Mia smiled. “You come to me, you get solutions.”

Ash waved her hands in the air. “So solute, then.”

“Aalea still hasn’t given her favor, Ash.”

“And what chance do I have of winning that?”

“If you keep wearing a hole in my floor with your pacing, none. If you hit the ’Grave and find something especially juicy…”

“Needle in a fucking haystack.”

“Well, hunting needles is better than just sitting around here praying, aye?”

Ash put the tip of one of her warbraids in her mouth. Chewed thoughtfully.

“I’ll come with you,” Mia offered.

Ashlinn glanced up at that. “Looking to avoid Tricky, neh?”

“This has nothing to do with Tric.”

“I’m sure.”

Mia raised the knuckles. Swallowed her whiskey in a single toss. “Come on, let’s be off.”

Ash made a face, shook her head. “I think I’d best go alone.”

“Two set of ears are better than one?”

“Aye,” Ash shrugged. “And I appreciate the offer and all. Just … wouldn’t feel right. If I can’t do this myself, perhaps I don’t deserve to be here at all.”

Mia nodded. Though she hid it behind the jests and smiles, Ash was a proud one. Proud of her skills. Of her father and his legacy. Mia could understand why she’d not want to be initiated on someone else’s coattails. And so she rose off the bed, put her arms around her friend and squeezed her tight.

“Goddess go with you. Be careful.”

Ash squeezed Mia back, tight enough to make her wince.

“You know, folk around here have got you figured for a ruthless bitch after that stunt with Diamo. But I know better. Someone hurts those you love, you’ll not forgive it. But underneath it all, you’re a good sort, Corvere.”

Mia kissed Ash’s cheek, smiling. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve a reputation to uphold.”

“I mean it. Sometimes I wonder what you’re doing in a place like this, Mia.”

“… Since when do you call me Mia?”

“I’m serious,” Ash said. “You should be sure.”

“… Of what?”

Ash searched her eyes. All trace of her smile gone.

“If you really want to be here tomorrow eve.”

“Where else would I be?”

Ash seemed set to say more, but her stare hardened, and she caught herself before she spoke. She hung a moment longer, arms still around Mia’s waist. Lips parted. Pupils wide. And then Ash let go, slipped out through the door and disappeared down the hallway in search of the speaker. Mia closed the door behind her, slunk back to her bed. Watching the cigarillo burning down in her hand.

What was Ash on about? This was everything she’d worked for. Everything she wanted. All the years, the miles, the struggle. The things she’d done to get here, the lives she’d taken on this bloody road. Hands dipped in red. But now she was just one step away from initiation.

One step closer to Remus’s throat.

Duomo’s heart.

Scaeva’s head.

Then it would all be worth it, wouldn’t it?

Wouldn’t it?

A black shape coalesced at her feet. Whispering like wind through winter trees.

“… tomorrow…,” it said.

Mia nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

1. His last pair. The good chronicler had broken his spare set during a wrestling match with a copy of At His Majesty’s Service, the autobiography of Angelica Trobbiani, courtesan during the reign of Francisco VI. All copies of this