by Jay Kristoff
2 The origins of the Vow of Blood are shrouded in antiquity, but many believe they lay in the Old Ashkahi Empire, and the mythology of the famed warrior-prince Andarai.Andarai’s exploits were so well known, his legend survived even the fall of the empire itself. He was a typical brand of hero for the age—peerlessly wise, undefeated in battle, and reputedly hung like a mule. He spent much of his time running about rescuing princesses, slaying beasts, and siring bastards, though he also apparently found time to invent the lyre, the loom, and, strangely enough, the birthing stool. His most hated foe was the legendary Thief of Faces, Tariq, who, among his other exploits, stole Andarai’s blacksteel sword, and bedded Andarai’s mother, sister, and daughter, all reportedly on the same evening.Andarai was somewhat put out about this. Particularly the bit about his mother.The pair’s rivalry spanned decades, and looked surely to end in the death of one or both. But when the daemon-king, Sha’Annu, rose in the north and threatened all the empire, the pair joined forces to defeat him. Bound by the kinship found only in battle, the pair declared themselves brothers, and vowed in blood they would remain so ’til the end of their days. Tariq even refrained from bedding Andarai’s mother again.His daughter, however . . .
BOOK 2
Blood and Glory
13: egress
Clove-scented smoke curled in the sea air, slipping out in thin trails from Mia’s nostrils. She dragged the last breath from the cigarillo, crushed the life out of it against the wall and breathed a contented sigh.
“’Byss and blood, I needed that.”
“I knew you’d be missing them.”
Ash smiled, dragged a lock of blood-red behind her ear. She’d dyed it for subterfuge—if by some horrid stroke of fate, someone from the Church saw her and Mia together at a distance, Ash might be able to pass for Jessamine. It was a thin ruse, but as Mister Kindly was so fond of telling Mia, this whole game was so thin it was practically translucent.
Still, Mia inclined her head in thanks, and closing her eyes, she leaned back against the old leather couch, listening to the tobacco buzz in her blood.
“It’s good to see you again,” Ash said.
Mia opened her eyes, staring at Ash through her lashes. Mister Kindly hopped up onto the lounge, tail draped over Mia’s shoulder. Eclipse wrapped herself around Mia’s waist, head in her lap. Neither of her passengers trusted Ashlinn, and even after setting all this in motion together, Mia couldn’t bring herself to either. Ash killed Jess. She’d killed Tric. Killed anyone who stood in the way of her revenge.
Is she so different from you?
She’d not given the Luminatii the location of Mercurio’s shop, after all . . .
Ashlinn peered at the rags Mia was clad in.
“Nice to see you dressed up for the occasion.”
“Take you much trouble to get here?” Mia asked.
Ash shook her head. “Mister Grumpy found us quick enough.”
Eclipse’s laughter came from beneath the floor. Mister Kindly titled his head at Ashlinn and whispered with a voice like smoke.
“ . . . insolence . . .”
Ashlinn smirked at the shadowcat, slipped a dagger from her belt, and skewered an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table beside her. With a deft flick of her wrist, she tossed it into Mia’s outstretched hand.
“We waited at Whitekeep as planned,” Ash said. “Once Leonides arrived and you weren’t among his purchases, I knew something had gone balls up. Though I didn’t imagine jewels were facing so proudly skyward until Mister Smartarse found us.”
“ . . . stop that . . .”
“ . . . NO, DO CONTINUE, PLEASE . . .”
Ash ignored the shadows, instead quirked an eyebrow at Mia. The girl took a noisy bite out of her apple, chewing for a good while before she answered.
“I admit, the plan has suffered a few . . . setbacks.”
“You always had a talent for understatement, Corvere.” Ashlinn stabbed another apple from the bowl, began peeling it with deft strokes of her blade. “Living in the keep that belonged to your father before he was hanged for treason. Under ownership of the wife of the justicus you murdered. In a stable that can only be a half-year old at most, and only has one laurel to its name. How’s that faring?”
“I survived the Winnowing,” Mia shrugged.
Ash slipped a sliver of apple between her lips. “I had noticed you weren’t dead.”
“And I’ve taken the blood vow,” Mia continued. “I’m full-fledged gladiatii now. The plan remains the same. I’ll just have to do it through a different collegium is all.”
“You’re going to have to fight twice as hard,” Ash pointed out. “Leonides has already assured his collegium a berth in the magni from previous years’ victories. Leona doesn’t have anything like the political capital her father does. She needs to win at least three more laurels before she can even fight in the grand games.”
“If I need someone to state the bleeding obvious, I already have Mister Kindly, Ashlinn.”
“ . . . some things are important enough to point out twice . . .”
“Listen, nobody knows better than me how deep the shit we’re in is,” Mia snapped. “But if one of you can think of a better way to get Duomo and Scaeva at once, without the Red Church getting a whiff of it, I’m all fucking ears.”
“I’ve told you before, Mia,” Ash said. “I can get Duomo for you. I trained at the Church, same as you. We can sail back to Godsgrave right now and—”
“No, I told you,” the girl scowled. “Duomo is mine. Scaeva is mine. I want to look those bastards in the eye as they die. I want them to know it was me.”
“ . . . BLOOD MUST HAVE BLOOD . . . ,” Eclipse growled.
Ash popped another slice of apple between her teeth, raised an eyebrow at Mister Kindly. The pair might have been at odds about everything else, but as far as the insanity of Mia’s plan went, they were of one accord.
“ . . . mia, perha—. . .”
“No!” she snapped. “This is the way. And this was the deal, Ashlinn. You help me get Scaeva and Duomo, Mercurio and I help you get the Ministry.”
“You wouldn’t just be getting them for me, Mia. Let’s be honest.”
“Are you certain you know what honesty even looks like anymore, Ashlinn?”
The girl sucked her lip, slowly nodded. “A fine thrust.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
“I should point out that I am here helping you, Mia.”
“I get Duomo. I get Scaeva. That was the bargain struck.”
And so it was. Insane as the plan had seemed, sitting for hours in the Godsgrave Chapel, neither Mercurio nor Ashlinn could ponder a better one. Scaeva rarely made public appearances anymore, and Duomo spent most of his time in the Basilica Grande. For the pair of them to be together at the magni, within striking range, all while Duomo wouldn’t be wearing a cursed trinity about his neck . . . No matter how hard it would be to get there, the opportunity was too ripe to waste.
And so, Mercurio had reported to the Ministry that the deal with the braavi had gone south, and that Mia was now pursuing the map on the mainland. The trio had then set about researching the best collegia to see Mia through to the magni, although Mercurio wasn’t exactly happy about Ashlinn being involved. True, the girl wanted revenge on the Red Church, almost as badly as Mia. True, she was a better liar than Mia; she and her brother had almost brought the Church down all by themselves. But, the fact was, Mia and her old mentor trusted her about as far as they could spit her.
Still, Mia had Eclipse around to keep Ash under watch—the girl couldn’t breathe without the daemon there to hear it. And when swimming in drake-infested waters, it never hurt to have company, if only so the drakes had someone to eat other than you.
Ashlinn stretched like a cat, ate another slice of apple.
“Fair enough,” she said. “I’m just pointing out other options. But the deal was struck, and I’ll hold to it. Never let it be said I’m not a woman of my word.”
Mister Kindly scoffed, tail curling about Mia’s throat.
“ . . . on the contrary, i feel it should be said as loudly and often as possible . . .”
Ashlinn flipped the knuckles. “Nobody was talking to you, Mister Positivity.”
Eclipse raised her head, her whisper echoing through the floorboards. “ . . . AS YOU MAY HAVE GUESSED, DONA JÄRNHEIM AND I HAVE BEEN GETTING ALONG FAMOUSLY IN YOUR ABSENCE . . .”
“ . . . color me unsurprised . . .”
“ . . . HAVE YOU NOT MICE TO CHASE, LITTLE MOGGY . . . ?”
“ . . . HAVE YOU NOT CROTCHES TO SNIFF, DEAR MONGREL . . . ?”
“All right, enough, enough,” Mia said. “I need to get back to my lovely stinky cell in Crow’s Nest before I’m missed. We need to find out as much about Leona as we can. We knew the book on her father, but the dona herself is something of a mystery.”
“A good thing I’ve been asking around, then,” Ash smiled.
The girl sliced off another sliver of apple, pressed it to her tongue.
Mia raised an eyebrow. “Out with it, then.”
“Say please,” Ashlinn smiled.
“Ash . . . ,” Mia growled.
The girl grinned, leaned back in her chair. “I’ve only been here a turn. So there’s more to learn. But I know Leona married Remus around three years back. She caught his eye at the last magni, and Remus sought her hand from her father soon after. Quite a coup, for the daughter of a mere sanguila to be married off to the justicus of the Luminatii Legion. Shows how much political clout her da has, I suppose.”
Mia took a bite of the apple, spoke around her mouthful.
“Their marriage was arranged?”
“They always are at that level.” Ash sliced a thin wafer, popped it between her lips. “Though from what I can tell, Leona wasn’t forced into it. Remus was rich. Handsome. His political star on the rise. She stood to gain a lot from slipping into bed with him. So I’d not let it slip you slit his throat were I you.”
“O, damnation, because I was planning on it.”
Ashlinn smirked and pressed another sliver to her tongue.
“What about Arkades?” Mia spoke around another noisy bite. “He was Leonides’s champion for years. Why does he serve Leona as executus instead of her father?”
Ashlinn shrugged again. “I’ve only been here a single turn. Give me time.”
“Well, I need all the leverage I can get.” Mia wiped her lips, stood, and stretched. “So the more you can find out about my domina, the better.”
Ash nodded to the rags Mia was wearing, staring pointedly at her bare midriff and legs. “I like her fashion sense, if nothing else.”
Mia ignored the comment, slipped to the window, peered out to look for unfriendly eyes. Finding none, she swung her leg over the sill, made to climb out.
“Mia.”
She turned to look at Ashlinn, one eyebrow raised. The girl’s hands fluttered at her sides, picking at the hem of her britches.
“Be careful in there,” she said.
Mia glanced at Eclipse, still curled on the divan in a puddle of black.
“Keep an eye out,” Mia said.
“ . . . AS MUCH AS THE EYELESS CAN . . . ,” the not-wolf replied.
And with that, she was gone. Down the wall, to the alley, dragging the shadows about her head. Stealing back up the way to Crow’s Nest with Mister Kindly to guide her to her rest.
She thought about the way Ashlinn looked at her. The kiss they’d shared the turn Mia left the Mountain. That had all been for show on Ashlinn’s part, she was sure of it. Just a play to further the girl’s plan to take down the Ministry. Mia knew it. Everyone knew it. Ashlinn Järnheim was poison. But thinking on that kiss, her mind drifted to that nevernight in Gaius Aurelius’s bed, the way that Liisian beauty had tasted on his lips. Wondering if that had been all for show on her part—just another ruse to get within striking distance of the senator’s son. Wondering if part of her hadn’t enjoyed it, or if it mattered, even if she had.
Wondering why she was wondering at all.
Eyes on the fucking prize, Corvere . . .
Back at Crow’s Nest, she found the portcullis still sealed, the guards watching. The hour was late, and there was little hope a servant might be sent down to the Rest until after the gladiatii were roused for mornmeal. And so Mia reached out to the shadows at her feet, the shadows in the courtyard, and drawing a deep breath, she
Stepped
across
the space
between them.
She fell to her knees in the dust, head swimming, the burning light of the two suns overhead pounding upon her skull. At least the wine had worn off, and she wasn’t tempted to spew, but the sensation was still far on the south side of pleasant. The captain of the dona’s houseguard, a sharp-eyed fellow named Gannicus, turned at the sound of her hitting the dirt. But with Mia hidden beneath her cloak in the shadow of the wall, he saw nothing of account, and slowly turned back to his watch.
It was several minutes before Mia felt steady enough to rise, creeping slow across the courtyard at Mister Kindly’s whispers, down the building’s flank to the open verandah at the rear. Stealing down the stairs, groping blind, she finally found the iron bars that sealed off the barracks from the rest of the villa. Taking a moment to ready herself, dreading the incoming vertigo, she felt for the shadows of her dingy little cell. And closing her eyes tight she
Stepped
down into the black
at her feet
and into the cell beyond.
The heat of the suns was nowhere near as intense in the barrack’s dark, but still, she was almost sick, puke bubbling up from her gullet and welling in her cheeks. She was getting better at shadow-stepping since the basilica roof—like any muscle, she supposed it grew stronger the more she used it. But a second Step so soon after the first was apparently too much, especially with the suns burning so bright in the sky. She swallowed thickly, crouched upon the straw, clutching the stones beneath to stop the world from spinning. Listening to the cells around her, she heard nothing but soft snoring and sighs.
“ . . . all looks clear . . . ,” came a whisper in her ear.
She waited a moment longer, the world slowly steadying itself. And finally, safe inside her cell, Mia threw her shadowcloak aside and blinked around the cellar’s gloom, right into Sidonius’s opening eyes.
“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Look wh—”
Mia crossed the cell in a flash, seized the man by the throat, one hand over his mouth. Sidonius clawed her back, muscles bulging, growling as the pair struggled. Sid was bigger, Mia faster, the pair scuffling silently in the straw. Each had the other in a choke hold, veins bulging at their throats, Sid’s eyes welling with tears.
“P-pe . . . ,” he gurgled.
Even as Mia choked him, his own hold tightened. Mia’s throat cinched closed, her chest burning, blood cut off to her brain. She was still dizzy from her shadow-stepping, she’d no idea if the big Itreyan would succumb before she did. No idea what he’d do if she did . . .
“P . . . peace,” he managed to gasp.
Mia eased off her hold a fraction, looking into Sidonius’s eyes. The big man did the same, letting just a whisper of breath into her lungs. Slow as melting ice, she released her grip, the big man’s fingers unwinding from about her neck. Mia rolled off the big Itreyan, retreated to one corner of their cell.
“’Byss and b-blood,” Sid whispered, rubbing his throat. “Wh . . . what was that for?”
“You saw,” Mia whispered.
“So what?”
“You know. What I am.”
Sid winced, trying to swallow. He whispered almost lower than she could hear.
“Darkin.”
Mia said nothing, dark eyes locked on his.
“And that deserves a bloody strangling?” he pressed.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” Mia spat, looking about the other cells.
“ . . . a
dvice best followed by everyone concerned . . . ?”
Sidonius’s eyes grew wide as the shadowcat faded into view on Mia’s shoulder.
“Bugger me . . . ,” he breathed.
“ . . . a generous offer, but no, thank you . . .”
“And thank you for telling me all looked clear,” Mia whispered.
The not-cat tilted his head.
“ . . . i can’t be perfect in every way . . .”
Mia and Sidonius looked at each other across the straw. There was fear in the man’s stare—fear of the unknown, fear of what she was. But, despite it, Sidonius held his peace, held his tongue, looking her over with curious eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be screaming for the guards right now?” Mia asked. “Blathering that they should be nailing me up for witchery?”
“Witchery?” Sid scoffed. “Do I look like some addle-witted peasant to you?”
“ . . . I admit, you’re taking the news better than most.”
“I’ve seen a lot of this world, little Crow. And you’re not the strangest of it. Not by a long ways.” The Itreyan leaned back against the bars, folded his arms. “It’s true, then . . . what they say about you lot?”
“That we spoil milk where we walk and deflower virgins wher—”
“That you walk through walls, you little nonce. I woke up to piss a half-hour ago and you weren’t here. Then, pop, you appear right out of the fucking air?”
“That’s not what happened, Sid.”
“I know what I saw, Crow.”
Sounds of waking could be heard in the villa overhead. The Cook’s footsteps on the boards, the watch changing outside. Executus would be down here soon, rousing them for their first round of brutal calisthenics.
Mia looked Sidonius in the eye, studying him with care. The man was a smartarse, a thug, an utter lackwit when it came to women. But he was no fool. She didn’t trust him, not by half. But they’d bled together on the sands of Blackbridge, and that counted for something. Still, there was no chance she was willing to share anything of herself without him giving something in return . . .
