Nevernight (The Nevernight Chronicle #1) - Jay Kristoff Page 0,55

Church than Old Mercurio, and the siblings had avoided any monstrosities on their way to the Quiet Mountain. Ashlinn seemed impressed by Mia’s story of the sand kraken. Osrik seemed more impressed with Jessamine. The redhead and her cunning wolf eyes was seated three stools down, and Osrik couldn’t seem to tear his stare away. For her part, the girl seemed more intent on the thuggish Itreyan boy seated beside her, whispering to him and occasionally staring daggers at Mia.

Mia could feel other furtive glances and lingering stares—though some were better at hiding it than others, almost every acolyte was studying their fellows. Hush simply stared at the sky and sipped his broth like it was a chore, not touching any other food.

Mia watched the Ministry between courses, noting the way they interacted. Solis, the blind Shahiid of Songs, seemed to dominate conversation, though from the occasional bursts of laughter he elicited, Mouser, the Shahiid of Pockets seemed possessed of the keenest wit. Spiderkiller and Aalea, Shahiid of Truths and Masks, sat so close they touched. All paid the utmost respect to Revered Mother Drusilla, conversation stilling when the old woman spoke.

It was halfway through the main that Mia felt a queasy feeling creep into her gut. She looked about the room, felt Mister Kindly curling up in her shadow. The Revered Mother stood suddenly, the Ministry members about her swiftly following suit, gazes downturned.

Mother Drusilla spoke, eyes on the acolytes.

“All of you, please rise.”

Mia climbed to her feet, frowning softly. Ashlinn turned to her brother, whispering with something close to fervor.

“Black Mother, he’s here.”

Mia realized a dark-haired man was standing at the Sky Altar’s balcony, overlooking the shifting wastes below—though for the life of her, she’d not seen him actually enter the room. She felt her shadow trembling, shrinking, Mister Kindly curling up at her feet.

“Lord Cassius,” Drusilla said, bowing. “You honor us.”

The man turned to the Revered Mother with a thin smile. He was tall, muscular, clad in soft dark leather. Long black hair framed piercing eyes and a jaw you could break your fist on. He wore a heavy black cloak and twin blades at his waist. Perfectly plain. Perfectly deadly. He spoke with a voice that made Mia tingle in all the wrong places.

“Be at peace, Revered Mother.” Dark eyes roamed the new acolytes, still standing as if to attention. “I simply wished to admire the view. May I join you?”

“Of course, Lord.”

The Revered Mother vacated her seat at the head of the Ministry’s table, the other Shahiid shuffling about to accommodate the newcomer. Still smiling, the man stepped to the Mother’s seat, soundless as the sunsset. His movements were smooth, flowing like water, sweeping aside his cloak as he sat in the Revered Mother’s chair. The sickness in Mia’s belly surged as the strange man glanced directly at her. But as he took a seat and lifted a cup of wine, the spell of utter stillness he’d seemed to have cast over the room softly broke. Hands scuttled to set a new place at table, the Ministry sank slowly into their seats, acolytes following. Conversation began again, cautious at first, relaxing by inches until it filled the room.

Mia found herself staring at the mysterious newcomer throughout the meal, eyes tracing the line of his jaw, his throat. She was sure it was a trick of the light, but his long raven hair seemed as if it were almost moving, his eyes glittering with some inner light.

Mia looked for Naev, but the woman was seated with other Hands, too far away.

“Ashlinn,” she finally whispered. “Who is that?”

The girl blinked at Mia. Her brother Osrik raised an eyebrow.

“Maw’s teeth, Corvere, that’s Cassius. The Black Prince. Lord of Blades. Leader of the entire congregation. More bodies on him than a Liisian necropolis.”

“What’s he doing here? Is he a teacher?”

“No.” Osrik shook his head. “We’d no idea he’d be here this eve.”

“Da always told us Cassius stayed away from here,” Ashlinn said. “Keeps his comings and goings well secret. No disciple of the Church knows where he’ll be until he gets there. Only attends the Mountain for initiation ceremonies, they say.”

Osrik nodded, glanced to the students around them. “Some acolytes only lay eyes on him once in their life. The night he declares them full-fledged Blades. If you’re chosen, he’ll anoint you just as the Revered Mother did tonight at the baptism.” The boy pointed to the dried gore on Mia’s cheeks. “Only it’ll be with his own blood.