Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,41

growled.

She rolled out of the wagon, Tric hopping down beside her as she lit a cigarillo. The wind snatched at her fringe as she sucked down a lungful. Her fingers were crusted with blood. Naev was laughing, bashing the back of her head against the wagon floor.

“We should end it,” Tric said. “It’s a mercy.”

“She told us not to.”

“She’s in agony, Mia. Black Mother, listen to her.”

“I know! I’d have done it yesterturn but she asked me not to.”

“So you’re happy to just let her die screaming?”

“Do I look fucking happy to you?”

“Well, what do we do now? This is the simplest mountain for miles, far as I can see. I don’t see any steeple, do you? We just ride around until we drop of thirst?”

“I don’t know any more than you do. But Naev told us to ride in this direction. That blood werking wasn’t just for shits and giggles. Someone knows we’re here.”

“Aye, the fucking dustwraiths! They’ll hear her screaming miles away!”

“So is it mercy or fear ruling you, Don Tric?”

“I fear nothing,” he growled.

“Mister Kindly can smell it on you. And so can I.”

“Maw take you,” he hissed, drawing his knife. “I’m ending this now.”

“Stop.” Mia clutched his arm. “Don’t.”

“Get off me!” Tric slapped her fingers away.

Mia’s hand went to her stiletto, Tric’s hand to his scimitar. The shadows about her flared, long tendrils reaching out from the stones and swaying as if to music only they could hear.

“She’s our only way to find the Church,” Mia said. “It’s my fault those kraken got her in the first place. And she asked me not to kill her.”

“She couldn’t find her britches for a piss, the state she’s in. And I didn’t promise her a thing.”

“Don’t draw that sword, Don Tric. Things will end badly for both of us.”

“I picked you for a cold one, Mia Corvere.” He shook his head. “I just never knew how much. Where do you keep the heart that’s supposed to be inside your chest?”

“Keep it up and I’ll feed you yours, bastard.”

“Bastard I might be,” Tric spat. “But you’re the one who decides to be a cunt every turn of your life.”

Mia had her knife out, smiling.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Tric drew his scimitar, those pretty hazel eyes locked on hers. Confusion and rage boiling behind her stare. A soup of it, thick in her head, silencing the common sense shouting at the back of the room. She wanted to kill this boy, she realized. Cut him belly to throat and wash her hands inside him. Soak herself to the elbows and paint her lips and breasts with his blood. Her thighs ached at the thought. Breath coming faster as she pressed one hand between her legs, murder and lust all a-tumble in her head as Mister Kindly whispered from her shadow.

“… this is not you…”

“Away,” she hissed. “To the Maw with you, daemon.”

“… these thoughts are not your own…”

Tric was advancing, eyes narrowed to knife-cuts, veins standing taut in his throat. He was breathing heavy, pupils dilated. Mia glanced below his waist and realized he was hard, britches bulging, the thought making her breath quicken. She blinked sweat from her eyes and pictured her blade slipping in and out of his chest, his into hers, tasting copper on his tongue …

“This isn’t right…,” she breathed.

Tric lunged, a sweeping blow passing over her head as she swayed. She aimed a kick for his groin, blocked by his knee and tempted for a second to simply drop to her own. She stabbed at his exposed belly, knowing this was wrong, this was wrong, pulling the blow at the last moment and rolling aside as he swung again at her head. He was grinning like a lunatic, and the thought struck her funny as well. Trying not to laugh, trying to think beyond her desire to kill him, fuck him, both at once, lying with him inside her as they stabbed and bit and bled to their endings on the sand.

“Tric, stop it,” she gasped.

“Come here…”

Chest heaving, hand outstretched even as she moved closer. Panting. Wanting.

“Something is wrong. This is wrong.”

“Come here,” he said, stalking her across the sand, swords raised.

“… this is not real…”

She shook her head, blinking the sting from her eyes.

“… you are mia corvere…,” said Mister Kindly. “… remember…”

She held out her hand and her shadow trembled, stretching out from her feet and engulfing the boy’s. He stuck fast in the sand and she backed away,