Wsssshhthunk.

The arrow struck the strawman, close to his heart.

Wsssshhthunk.

Another struck closer than the first.

Wsssshhthunk.

A third struck the target, right in its featureless face.

Mia lowered her bow, the fingers on her right hand throbbing.

“Fine work,” Bryn said beside her. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“Read about it in a book,” Mia growled. “When I was done fucking your father.”

The Vaanian girl chuckled, lifting her own bow and drawing back the string.

“Rough nevernight, little Crow?”

Mia set her bow aside, wincing at the pain. “I’ve had better.”

“Not with my poor old da, I’ll wager,” Bryn grinned.

The blonde let half a dozen arrows fly in quick succession. Three punched through the strawman’s heart, two into its throat, the last in its head.

“Maw’s teeth . . . ,” Mia breathed.

“You should see her shoot with her good hand,” Byern said, walking past the pair with a bunch of leather tackle slung over his shoulder.

“Ah, that’d just be showing off,” Bryn replied.

The twins had left Crow’s Nest early that morning, just as they did every second turn. Per Executus’s command, Mia had accompanied them, trailing behind like a dog with no bone. Arkades limped with them to the gates of the keep, Mia trying to keep the scowl from her face as she remembered how the man had spoken about her the nevernight before. Arkades had made no mention of her impending sale, the sword hanging over her head. It wasn’t as if he were offering a chance to prove herself, no. It was clear Executus simply wanted her gone.

It stung her pride, truth told. More than it should have. Mia didn’t know why she wanted his approval. But in the intervening hours, hurt pride had turned to burning rage. She didn’t have time to waste anymore—being sold to another master was a risk she simply couldn’t take. She needed to prove herself. Not to Arkades, but to Dona Leona.

The fact that she was bedding Furian aside, Mia suspected the dona still saw some measure of value in her. Mia had ignited the audience at Blackbridge, and the crowd’s reaction had set some small ember of respect burning in Leona’s breast. Mia need needed a way to coax that spark into flame.

The venatus at Stormwatch would decide her future, in this collegium, and in the arena. Her plan to murder Duomo and Scaeva hung in the balance.

She’d no idea, yet, how to tip the scales.

Mia, Bryn and Byern had been escorted by four of Dona Leona’s house guards, into the rough scrubland behind Crow’s Nest. After half a mile, they’d reached an oblong track, perhaps a mile long, marked in the ochre sand with flat stones. A stable stood to one side, and Byern marched inside with his harness and tackle while Bryn loosed quiver after quiver of arrows into the three strawmen targets.

The houseguards stood in the shade, paying no mind. Mia realized how easy it would be for Bryn and Byern to escape—a few arrows into each guard’s chest, two horses, and the pair would be dust on the horizon. But, even if they somehow made their way in the Republic with brands on their cheeks, the twins would be condemning every other gladiatii in Leona’s stable to execution in the arena.

She had to hand it to the administratii—the heartless bastards knew their trade.

Mia’s fingers were bruising badly, and it hurt to hold the bow for long, so she mostly contented herself watching Bryn’s form. The girl could shoot blind, left-handed as well as right. After emptying another quiver, she took off her boots, clutched her bow between her toes. And, in what might have been the most astonishing display of dexterity Mia had ever witnessed, slowly stood on her hands, arched her spine and loosed a shot with her feet, skewering the strawman in the heart.

“Speaking of showing off . . . ,” Mia said.

Bryn curled smoothly over and stood, brushing the dust off her palms.

“It’s child’s play when you and the targets aren’t moving,” she shrugged. Turning to the stable, she called to her brother. “’Byss and blood, Byern, are you rigging those horses or asking them to marry you?”

“I’ve asked before, they both said no,” came the reply.

“Well, they have excellent taste.”

Bryn’s twin emerged from the stable, carrying a great shield and leading a pair of horses harnessed to a long, sleek chariot. The beasts were white as clouds, muscles carved in marble. Despite herself, Mia felt a small pang at the sight of them, thinking of her own stallion, Bastard. After he’d rescued her from near death in the Ashkahi desert, Mia had set him free rather than lock him up in the Red Church stable. She hoped he was wandering somewhere pleasant, siring as many of his own bastards as he could.

She missed him.

She missed a lot about that time, truth told . . .

“Sister Crow,” Byern waved to the horses with a flourish, “meet Briar and Rose.”

Mia studied the pair pulling Byern’s chariot. Like every horse she’d ever met, the beasts were skittish around her, so she gave them a wide berth. The fact that she called the only horse who’d ever tolerated her “Bastard” spoke to her feeling about the beasts in general, but she knew a fine specimen when she saw it.

“They’re mares,” Mia noted. “Most equillai I’ve seen run stallions.”

“Most equillai you’ve seen are idiots,” Byern replied.

His sister nodded. “Stallions think with their cocks. Mares know how to keep their heads in a crisis. As with horses, so with humans, eh, brother mine?”

Byern raised a finger in warning. “Respect your elders, pup.”

“You’re two minutes older than me, Byern.”

“Two minutes and fourteen seconds. Now, are you coming or no?”

“Stand out in the center,” Bryn directed Mia, nodding at the dusty track. “When I give the word, you let fly with the best you have.”

“ . . . You want me to shoot you?” Mia asked, eyebrow raised.

Bryn laughed aloud. “I want you to try. And remember to breathe.”

With that, the Vaanian jumped into the chariot beside her brother. With a snap of the reins and a wink to Mia (met with a punch in the arm from his sister), Byern led the horses onto the track.

The chariot was two-wheeled, broad and deep enough to allow the siblings to trade sides. It was red, trimmed in gold paint, carved with the falcon of the Remus Collegium. The great shield Byern carried was also painted with a red falcon, and its edges were crenelated like the walls of a fortified keep.

Mia walked until she stood in the island of ochre dirt, surrounded by the oblong track. Strawman targets were arranged in a single row down the middle of the island, to Mia’s left and right. At a real venatus, those strawmen would be real men—murderers and rapists set to be executed e equillai before the adoring crowd.

Mia watched as the twins tore around the track, faster and faster. Bryn’s topknot whipped in the wind behind her, Byern’s bronze skin gleaming in the sunslight.

“Ready?” Bryn called to Mia.

“Aye,” the girl replied.

“Let fly, little Crow!”

Mia sighed, drew a bead on Byern’s chest. She tracked the chariot, breathing slow as Bryn had instructed despite the ache in her wounded fingers. And as the pair wheeled around the corner, she loosed a shot right at the handsome Vaanian’s chest.

Byern raised his shield, blocked the shot easily. Firing through the crenelation in the raised shield, Bryn loosed four shots, two of which struck the dirt at Mia’s sandals, the other two striking the strawman closest to her.

“I said shoot us, not ask us to dance!” Bryn shouted.

“I can dance with you later, if you wish,” Byern called.

Bryn punctured another strawman, and her brother leaned out of the chariot at a precarious angle, scooping up a small stone off the track with his free hand. Mia scowled, trying to shake the feeling she was being made a fool of.

“All right, fuck this . . . ,” she muttered.

Mia began firing, shot after shot as the pair galloped around the track. And though her aim was true, she soon realized Bryn and Byern were both masters. Byern’s shield was impregnable, and his skill at driving his horses was almost equal to his sister’s archery. At the most humiliating point, Byern blocked a shot whistling straight for Bryn’s throat, while simultaneously leaning out of the chariot to scoop up a stone, holding the reins in his damned teeth. Meanwhile, Bryn peppered every strawman with a dozen shots, pausing occasionally to make Mia dance by loosing a shot at her toes.

Nine laps later, the pair pulled to a stop in front of her. Byern hopped out of the chariot, bowed low. “Do you prefer the waltz or the balinna, Mi Dona?”

Bryn punched her brother’s arm again, smiled at Mia. “Fine shooting. You almost got me there, once or twice.”

“Liar,” Mia said. “I never came close.”

Bryn winced, nodded sadly. “I was trying to make you feel better.”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Our da raised horses,” Byern said. “And Bryn’s been a daemon with a bow since she could walk.”

Mia shook her head. She knew she shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t get close. But truth was, she liked this pair. Byern’s easy smile and Bryn’s self-assured swagger.

“How did you come to be here?” she asked, looking at the track about them, the silhouette of Crow’s Nest in the distance. “This place?”

Bryn sniffed. “Bad harvest. Three years back. Village didn’t have the grain to pay our tithe to the Itreyan administratii. They locked our laird in irons, had him and his whole familia flogged in the stocks.”

“We didn’t like that,” Byern explained. “Me and Bryn were too young for our da to let us go, but anyone big enough to swing a sword marched up to the magistrate’s door. Dragged him down to the stocks and gave him a flogging right back.”

“He didn’t like that,” Bryn said. “You can imagine what came next.”

“Legionaries,” Mia said.

“Aye,” Byern nodded. “Five centuries of the bastards. Killed every rebel. Burned every home. Sold everyone left standing. Sis and me included.”

“But you weren’t even involved,” Mia said. “Your da didn’t let you rise.”

“You think the Itreyans care?” Byern smiled lopsided. “This whole Republic, the Kingdom before it, even. It’s built on the back of free labor. But now, Liis, Ashkah, Vaan, they’re all under Itreyan control. So where do the new slaves come from? When there are no lands left to conquer?”

“They build a Republic that’s unfair in its bones,” Bryn said. “That benefits the few, not the many. But the few have steel. And men they pay to wield it, unthinkingly. So, when someone among the many rises against the injustice, the brutality, the system locks them in irons. Makes of them an example for others, and with the very same stroke, sends one more body to be branded. One more pair of hands to build their roads, raise their walls, work their forges, all for a pittance and fear of the lash.”

Mia shook her head. “That’s . . .”

“Bullshit?” Byern offered.

“Aye.”

“That’s life in the Republic,” Bryn shrugged.

Mia sighed, strands of raven black stuck to the sweat on her face.

All her life, she’d never questioned the rightness of it. Never stopped to look about her and see the people below her. The folk who’d walked like voiceless ghosts about their home, their apartments in the Ribs. The men and women who’d dressed her, made her meals, taught her numbers and letters. Her mother and father had cared for them, no doubt. Rewarded those who served well. But still, they’d served. Not because they wanted to. Because the alternative was the lash, or death.

She felt as if scales were falling from her eyes. The true horror of the Republic she’d been raised inside unveiled in all its awful majesty.

But still . . .

Scaeva.

Duomo.

Their names burned like flame in her mind. Like a lighthouse, ever guiding her way no matter how dark the world became. The injustice, the cruelty of this system, aye, she could see it. But what in truth could she actually do to change it? Without risking all she’d worked for? Closing her eyes, she could still see her father, swinging on the end of his rope in the forum. Her mother in the Philosopher’s Stone, light fading in her stare as she pushed Mia’s bloody hand away, and with her dying breath whispered.

“Not my daughter . . . Just . . . her shadow.”

The memories brought rage, and the rage tasted good. Reminding her of who she was, why she was here. To defeat the greatest gladiatii in the Republic. To stand before her familia’s murderers triumphant and open their throats, one by one. And she was going to have a hard time doing that if she was sold off like a leg of beef at market.

Excelling in the venatus at Stormwatch. That was her concern.

Her first, her only concern.

And so, despite the pain in her injured hand, she nocked another arrow to her bow and nodded at Bryn.

“All right. Tell me what I’m doing wrong. And then, we’ll go again.”

“So she’s apparently hocked herself to the eye teeth,” Mia said, dragging on her cigarillo. “And Arkades has convinced her to sell me to fend off her creditors.”

Ashlinn leaned back in her divan, popped a grape in her mouth. “Bastard.”

“After I killed a dozen people at Blackbridge. He’s got no thought for anyone on the sand, save Furian. ‘He is the champion of this collegium.’ ‘He will bring you your victory, Mi Dona.’ O, aye, he’ll bring her victory all right, you dozy fuck. Right after he brings her to climax. Should’ve heard the pair of them going at it . . .”

Mia breathed a lungful of gray smoke as if it were flame.

“Arkades stuck me on a leash in the circle, yesterturn. Near broke my hand with those ridiculous shields. Calling me ‘girl’ as if the word were kin for ‘dogshit.’”

“Fucking bastard,” Ash said, eating another grape.

Mia’s eyes narrowed at the girl sitting opposite her.

“Look, are you just agreeing to humor me?”

“Mostly,” Ash smirked. “But it’s good to get these things off your tits, Corvere.”

“ . . . i trust you are feeling better now . . .”

Mia looked at the not-cat curled on her shoulder. “You’re starting in on me too?”

“ . . . moaning or thinking. which is more productive . . . ?”

“It seems Mister Jolly and I agree on something for once,” Ashlinn said.

“ . . . had i true claws, little viper, i would cut the tongue fr—. . .”

“Eclipse and I have been snooping about,” Ash continued as if the shadowcat hadn’t spoken. “Your domina’s debts certainly aren’t common knowledge. She buys the finest at market. Dresses like a queen. I suspect that’s half her problem.”

Eclipse raised her head from Mia’s lap, voice echoing through the floor.

“ . . . TOO ENAMORED BY WHAT FOLK THINK OF HER BY FAR . . .”

“Probably doesn’t want word getting back to her father,” Mia said, crushing out her smoke. “Doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her struggling.”

Ash tossed a bunch of grapes to Mia, speaking around her mouthful.

“So the way I see it, we have a few options,” she said.

“ . . . THE SIMPLEST IS TO PUT LEONA’S CREDITORS IN THE DIRT . . .”

“Aye,” Ashlinn nodded. “It’d take some asking about, but I know for a fact the only place she’d be getting her grain is a merchant named Anatolio. It just so happens he’s fond of his whores, and I know exactly where he dips his—”

“We’re not going to top some poor bastard whose only crime is extending a line of credit to my domina,” Mia scowled.

“ . . . IT SOUNDS AS IF WE WOULD NEED TO END MORE THAN ONE . . .”

Ash nodded. “She’s almost certainly in hock to the harbormaster. Maybe the builders who worked on the Nest. And her seamstresses wou—”

“Aye, aye, I understand,” Mia said. “We’d probably need to murder half the Rest. Which we’re not going to do. If the collegium puts in a good showing, Leona might be able to secure patronage from some rich marrowborn bastard after the next venatus. So for now, it’s smarter to just turn our eyes to—”

“Stormwatch,” Ash nodded. “Aye. The only way to ensure your place in the Remus Collegium is to win at Stormwatch venatus. And win grand.”

“We don’t even know what shape the venatus there will take.”

“ . . . NOT YET . . .”

Ashlinn nodded. “That’s why you’ve got me and wolfie, here. There’s a ship bound for the ’Watch leaving amorrow. We can be there in a week, can scout the workings at the arena and know exactly what you’re in for. Then, we plan accordingly, give you a victory that will outshine even Leona’s little fuckboy.”

“I’d never have picked it if I’d not seen it,” Mia sighed. “She acts far too proper.”

Ash shrugged. “She wouldn’t be the first rich woman to pay for a fine stud to scratch her itches. Having to keep it secret is probably half the thrill.”

Mia chewed her grapes, brow creased in thought. The fruit was delicious, and a welcome change from the endless array of stew and porridge the gladiatii were served for eve and mornmeal every turn.

“Good grapes, these,” she muttered.

“Never let it be said I don’t love you, Corvere.”

Mia looked up sharply at that, but Ash was leaning back in her chair, dropping grapes into her mouth. Her boots were up on the divan’s armrest, legs crossed, leather-clad. Her hair was getting longer, falling down her back in red waves.

Red. Like the blood on her hands.

And yet, here Mia was. Trusting her. She knew Ashlinn wanted the Ministry dead. And Mia and Mercurio were Ash’s best chance back into the Mountain to see the deed done. But was that mutual hatred of the Red Church enough? Was Ash playing a longer game? It wasn’t like she hadn’t done so before.

Ashlinn Järnheim had lied to her.

Ashlinn Järnheim was poison.

So why had her lips tasted like honey?

Mia ran her hand over her eyes, nodded slow.

“Head to Stormwatch with Eclipse,” she said. “The more we know, the better the chance I’ll have at a victory Leona can’t help but reward. I imagine we’ll be arriving a few turns before the venatus begins. I’ll need to know everything by then.”

Ash nodded, finishing her mouthful and wiping her lips on her sleeve.

“So,” she said. “Leona’s stud. Furian, the Unfallen.”

“ . . . THE DARKIN . . .”

“Is he going to be a problem?”

Mia shook her head. “Nothing you need worry yourself with.”

“But I do worry.”

“Because without me, you don’t get the Church, aye?”

Dark eyes stared into glittering blue. Looking for the lies behind them.

“Look, I know we’ve blood in our past,” Ashlinn said. “But there’s more than just red between us. I’m not just here for the Church. And I’m surely not holed up in this dingy little shithole for the glamor of it. And you must know that, or you’d not be here with me, no matter how many shadowolves you have watching over my shoulder.”

Mia stared. Ashlinn’s eyes. Ashlinn’s hands. Ashlinn’s lips. The girl simply stared back, letting the silence ask her questions for her.

Mia ignored them all.

“Good luck in Stormwatch,” she finally said. “Keep an eye on the harbor. Send Eclipse when we arrive and let me know the lay of the games.” She stood swift, dragging her hair over her shoulder and avoiding Ashlinn’s stare.

“You’re leaving already?”

Mia nodded. “I’d best be off before I’m missed. Sidonius is a decent sort, but I’ve no wish for anyone else to find out what I am.”

Ashlinn said nothing, watching Mia walk to the window, climb over the sill and disappear from sight. Without a final word. Without a parting glance.

Shaking her head, Ash dropped another grape into her mouth.

“That much is obvious, Corvere,” she sighed.