“Well, well,” Sidonius said. “Look what the shadowcat dragged in.”

Mia crouched on the cell floor, still dizzy from her Stepping. The barracks were almost pitch black, the quiet broken only by the soft snoring and fitful murmurs of the gladiatii around them. Sidonius lay on his side in the straw, eyes open only a sliver. Mister Kindly had warned Mia that the man was awake, but he knew her secret anyway. Well, some of her secrets . . .

No sense in hiding what he already knew.

“You pinch me some grub, or what?” Sid asked.

Mia smiled, tossed the man a hunk of cheese she’d stolen from the kitchen. He grinned, tearing off a bite and speaking around his mouthful. “Sneakier than a fart in Church, you are.”

“Were you waiting up for me? Awfully sweet of you.”

“No, in fact I’ll have you know you interrupted a lovely dream involving me, the magistrae, a riding crop and a featherdown bed.”

“The magistrae?” Mia raised her eyebrow.

“I’ve a penchant for older women, little Crow.”

“You’ve a penchant for anything with two tits, a hole and heartbeat, Sid.”

“Ha! You know me well.” The big man grinned, raising his cheese in toast. “But Four Daughters, I do like your style.”

“A pity Furian can’t say the same.”

“Ah, that’s where you were. How’s he hung? A man swaggers around with that much bravado, he’s usually compensating for the peanut in his britches.”

Mia remembered the feel of Furian’s cock against her hip, pressed her thighs together to heighten the ache. She was feeling edgy after her encounter with the Unfallen. Restless and overflowing. Trying to ignore all of it and think clear.

“I wasn’t bedding him, Sid,” she scowled. “I was trying to convince him not to get me fucking murdered.”

“Well, speaking as a former world traveler, you’d be surprised how far a quick wristjob will go toward mending strained foreign relations.”

Mia kicked the straw at her cellmate and grinned despite herself. “You’re a pig.”

“As I say, you know me well, little Crow.”

“If Furian and I don’t learn to fight together, that silkling is going to be using my lower intestines to make her sausages.”

“She that fearsome?”

“I’m not afraid of her, no. But she’s the best I’ve ever seen with a blade.”

“O, aye? And how many others have you seen with a blade?”

“My fair share.”

“Mmf,” Sid grunted, leaning against the wall and looking Mia up and down. “Secrets within secrets with you. Not eighteen years old, I’d wager. Skinny slip of a thing, and better with a sword than I am. But you do realize there’s always an alternative to becoming a silkling’s suppertime, don’t you?”

“And what’s that?” Mia sighed. “Murder Furian in his sleep and hope Leona pairs me and Bladesinger with someone who not an insufferable cockhead?”

Sidonius lifted his hands and made the motion of flapping wings.

“Fly awayyyyy, little Crow.”

“Not an option.”

Sid scoffed. “You step in and out of this cell more often than a fourteen-year-old boy spanks his chaplain. You can leave this place any time you choose. So if Champion Cockhead is going to get you stone-cold murdered, why don’t you just escape?”

Mia sighed. “If I did, every one of you would be executed.”

“Bollocks,” Sid said. “I watch you, Crow. I watch you watching us. Arkades. Leona. Furian. Me. Those little wheels behind those shady eyes always aturn. And though I don’t think you’re quite the coldest fish in this pond, you can’t honestly say you give a damn whether any of us lives or dies. Especially when we’re all likely to perish in the venatus anyways. So what’s your game?”

“Believe me, Sidonius,” Mia replied. “The last thing I’m doing here is playing.”

“Have it your way, then.” Sid took another bite of cheese, shook his head, wistful. “I tell you true, you remind me of a woman I used to know. It’s bloody uncanny. Same eyes as you. Same skin. Secrets within secrets on her, too.”

“Some old flame? Break your heart, did she?”

“Neh,” Sid shook his head. “I never loved her. But most men who knew her did. She almost brought the Republic to its knees. But in the end, she and her shady eyes and her secrets within secrets got her whole familia killed. Husband. Young daughter. Baby son. And a lot of my friends besides.”

Mia’s stomach turned cold. Eyes narrowing.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Former dona of this house, of course,” Sid said, gesturing to the walls. “Wife of the true justicus. Alinne Corvere.” He shook his head. “Stupid fucking whore.”

Afterward, Mia couldn’t remember moving. All she could recall was the satisfying crunch as her fist landed on Sidonius’s jaw, the sharp crack as his head bounced off the wall behind him. The big man cursed, tried to batter her away as she clawed at his throat, punching his cheek, his temple, his nose.

“Have you lost your—”

“Take it back,” she spat.

“Get off me!”

Mia and Sidonius fell to struggling, the bigger man wrestling her onto the floor as her knuckles played a tune on his face. “Take it back!” she roared, the pair rolling about in the straw, flailing and punching. A few other gladiatii woke up at the commotion, Bladesinger peering out from the slit in her cell door, Otho and Felix cheering as they realized a brawl had erupted, straining at their cell bars for a better look.

“Shut the fuck up in there!” Butcher bellowed from the cell across the way.

“Peace, Crow!” Sidonius cried.

“ . . . mia stop this . . .”

“Take it back!”

“Take what back?”

Sidonius cracked Mia across the jaw, Mia punched him in the throat. Choking, the big man grabbed a fistful of Mia’s hair and slammed her head into the bars, ringing all the world like a gong. Lashing out blind, stars in her eyes, she landed a brutal kick to his bollocks. Both gladiatii fell to the stone floor, gasping, bleeding, the cut on Mia’s brow from her silkling brawl split anew, Sid groaning and clutching his jewels.

“ . . . mia, stop, arkades will hear . . . !”

Mister Kindly’s whisper cut through the red haze in her head, dragged her to her senses. The not-cat spoke truth—if they kept brawling, Executus would surely hear the commotion, and they’d likely be flogged. She aimed one last kick at Sidonius, who rolled away across the floor with a curse. The big man dragged himself into a corner like a whipped dog, Mia into the opposite, the pair gasping and glaring at each other across the bloodstained stone.

“What th-the ’byss . . . was that?” Sid managed, his voice almost an octave higher.

Mia dragged bloody knuckles across her bloody nose.

“Nobody talks that way about her.”

“About wh—”

Sidonius blinked. Ice-blue eyes narrowing as he looked across the cell to the girl panting and wheezing in the corner. Dragging her long dark hair away from her dark eyes—the eyes that reminded him of . . .

“Can’t be . . . ,” he breathed.

Sidonius looked to the walls around him. Back to the girl. Mia could see the slow puzzle of it, the impossible math, all of it falling into an insane kind of place in his eyes. This girl who wouldn’t escape these walls, despite being able to leave whenever she chose. This girl who seemed determined to fight in the most vicious contest yet devised in Republic history, just to attain a freedom she could have any time she chose. So, if it wasn’t about the freedom . . .

“The Crow,” he breathed. “And here we sit, in Crow’s Nest.”

. . . it must be about the winning.

“You’re . . . You’re their . . . ?”

She felt it welling up inside her. Behind the pain of Sid’s beating, the pulse throbbing in her head and spilling blood into her eyes. The weight of it. Being surrounded every turn by reminders of who she’d been, what might have become, all that had been taken from her. The frustration and hunger she felt around Furian, the confusion and desire she felt around Ashlinn, the sheer magnitude of the task before her. She didn’t feel fear in the face of it all, no, the thing in her shadow wouldn’t allow that. But she did feel sorrow. Regret, for all that was and might have been.

And just for a second, just for a moment, the weight of it felt too much.

The other gladiatii had realized the show was over, shuffled back to their places in the straw. Mia sat hunched, hugging her scuffed knees, glaring at Sidonius through her ragged fringe. Lip trembling. Eyes burning in the dark.

“Take it back,” she whispered, tears welling in her lashes.

“Peace, Crow,” the man murmured, swabbing his bleeding lip. “If offense was given, I beg pardon. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”

He stared at her bewildered, once more glancing at the walls around them. Red stone, iron bars, rusty chains. None could hold her. And yet, here she still was . . .

“Four Daughters, I’m sorry . . .”

Mia sat there in the dark, feeling his eyes, feeling his pity, crawling like lice on her skin. She couldn’t stand it, the weakness she’d shown, the sorrow in Sid’s gaze, dragging her bleeding knuckles across her eyes and feeling her temper swell once more. Feeling angry felt better—far better than feeling sorry for herself. The adrenaline from her brawl tingled in her fingertips, left her legs shaking. She wanted to run, wanted to fight, wanted to close her eyes and still the tempest inside her head, for time to stand still for just one second.

Is that what she wanted?

What do you want?

It had been stupid to let it slip. To let her rage get the better of her, let Sid guess who she was. But had it been a mistake?

He’d known her father. Served him loyally. Still revered him, after all these years.

Maybe she’d wanted him to know?

Maybe she wanted to know someone who knew them too? Who understood a fraction of what being here must be like.

The future loomed before her, the empty sands of Godsgrave arena. All the blood that awaited her, all the blood behind her. Every moment of her life had led her to this path, this vengeance, this unbending, unbranching road.

But what did she want, besides revenge?

It was still hours until nevernight’s end.

She didn’t want to sleep.

She didn’t want to dream.

She didn’t want to lay her head down in this place that had been her home, and now served only as a fading reminder of all that could have been.

So what do you want?

“Crow?”

She looked up at Sid, quietly bleeding in his corner.

“Blessed Aa, I’m sorry, girl,” he said.

She didn’t want him looking at her, that much was certain. And as he rose from his straw and sat down beside her, wrapping one of those big, ham-hock arms around her shoulder, she realized the last thing on earth she wanted was him consoling her. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want to fall into some lump’s clumsy, slightly uncomfortable hug and cry like some frightened child. That time was long behind her. Dead and buried like her familia. She was a Blade of the Red Church now. Not weak and fragile glass. She was steel.

But she didn’t want to be alone, either.

She thought of her time as an acolyte. The forgetting and solace she’d found in Tric’s arms. But he was dead and buried too, now. An empty tomb in a hollow hall, carved with the only memoriam he’d ever know. She’d told Shahiid Aalea that she missed him, and there was truth in that. But more, she realized she missed the clarity of it; the simple joy of wanting and being wanted in kind. The lingering ache from her visit with Furian wasn’t helping any.

The brightest flames burn out the fastest, Aalea had told her. But in them, there is warmth that can last a lifetime. Even from a love that only lasts the nevernight. For people like us, there are no promises of forever.

Looking up into Sidonius’s eyes, she finally realized what she wanted.

Not forever, perhaps.

But for now.

“ . . . Why’re you looking at me like that?” the big Itreyan asked.

And without a word

she looked over his shoulder

to the shadow in the stairwell

and disappeared right out of his arms.

* * *

Sounds of the harbor. Soldiers calling “all’s well” as they patrolled the nevernight streets. The wind blowing in off the ocean into Crow’s Rest was blessedly cool, Mia shivering after the dank heat of the barracks. Her hand hovered above the window-glass, just shy of knocking.

“ . . . this is unwise . . .”

“Go back to the keep,” Mia whispered. “And tell Eclipse to watch the street.”

“ . . . mia, i—. . .”

“Go.”

Without a sound, the not-cat left her, her shadow growing thin and pale. As soon as Mister Kindly departed, she felt it, sneaking and creeping inside her belly—the fear she’d have always felt without him beside her. Fear of being here. Fear of what it meant, or where it could lead. Fear of who and what she was. And before it could sink its cold claws too far into her skin, she knocked, once, twice, knuckles striking sharp upon the glass.

No sound from the room inside. Mia felt a deepening dread, thinking perhaps she wasn’t in there, that she’d stolen away after their argument, betrayed her and left her behind, proved that all the mistrust and sus—

The window opened. Ashlinn Järnheim stood beyond the sill, pillow-mussed and befuddled by sleep. Her eyes were the blue of sunsburned skies.

“Mia?” the girl asked, stifling a yawn. “What time is it?”

Those blue eyes widened as she saw the scrapes on Mia’s knuckles, the split above her bruised eye, the bruise at her jaw.

“Black Mother, what happened to . . . ?”

The question trailed off as Mia reached out, pressed a finger to Ash’s lips. They hung there a moment; two girls, barely touching, all the world around them holding its breath. The confusion in Ashlinn’s eyes began to melt as Mia moved her finger, gentle as feathers. She traced the smooth bow of Ashlinn’s upper lip, the plump softness of her lower, slow and soft. The arc of her cheek, the line of her jaw, Ash’s breath coming quicker as she came fully awake, aware, awonder, the skin on her bare arms prickling. And as she parted her lips to speak, perhaps to protest, Mia leaned in and silenced her with a kiss.

She’d not kissed a girl before. At least, not like this. The kiss between them in the Mountain had been of farewell—lingering perhaps, but still a goodbye. This kiss was an invitation; a gentle, desperate plea for a beginning, not an ending. A question without words, Mia’s mouth open and melting against Ashlinn’s own. And as she felt Ashlinn shiver, the featherlight brush of her tongue in kind, Mia had her answer.

She climbed in through the window, their lips never parting. Arms entwined, hands exploring, Mia breaking the kiss only long enough to drag Ashlinn’s nightshirt up over her head. She was naked beneath, stripped gloriously bare with a single gesture. Mia paused a moment to drink in the sight; the sunslight caressing the line of her throat, the swell of her curves, the shadow between her legs.

“Mia, I . . .”

Mia sank back, pressing her mouth to Ashlinn’s neck. The girl’s chest was heaving, her cheeks flushed, whispering soft nothings and letting her head drift back as Mia sank lower, down to her breast, teasing one pebble-hard nipple with her tongue.

The pair collapsed onto the bed, Ash’s hands tearing at the bindings about Mia’s chest, her hips, groaning as Mia’s teeth nipped at her neck. Any questions she might have had were drowned now, breath coming too quick to speak, lips parted as she crushed Mia to her, skin on skin, every sweet secret at her fingertips. Down her ribs, over the swell of her hips to the curve of her arse as Mia wrapped one leg about her, dragging her in closer.

Mia felt Ash’s fingers brushing the inside of her thigh, an arkemical thrill sizzling up her spine and sparking in the dark behind her eyes. Her own hand quested lower, down across Ash’s taut belly to the downy blond between her legs. Their hands found their marks at the same time, their kiss deepening, their sighs smothered. Mia’s back arched as she felt Ashlinn drawing tight, firm circles on her with clever fingers. She kneaded a breast with her free hand, the other setting to work between Ashlinn’s legs, mimicking her slow, agonizing rhythm and listening to her moan in time.

It was like nothing she’d ever known. Jolting current and sweet softness and kisses, endless, paralyzing kisses that filled her with a warmth all the way to her fingertips. Time stood still, nothing but teasing tongues and breathless sighs, a heat building between her legs, setting her whole body aflame.

“O, Goddess, yes,” Mia whispered.

“Don’t stop,” Ashlinn pleaded.

Her lips were honey, warm and soft, her body writhing as Mia’s fingers rolled back and forth across her swollen bud. She was so hot down there, slick and shivering, the hunger in Mia rising until she could stand it no more.

“I want to taste you,” she breathed, nuzzling Ashlinn’s neck.

“O, yes . . . yes . . .”

Descending, slow as melting ice. Running her tongue down the line of Ashlinn’s throat, smiling as the girl’s back arched, toes curled. Down to the swell of her breasts, Mia took one in her mouth, licking, suckling, her hand still strumming between Ashlinn’s thighs. A thirst was burning inside her, desert-dry, and Mia could think of only one way to sate it. Dragging her like some sweet, dark gravity. Down.

Always down.

Ash was splayed on the mattress, groaning as Mia continued her descent, long, languid kisses running over her ribs, her belly. Mia paused, tracing slow, burning circles around her navel with the tip of her tongue, fingernails tracing gentle lines across Ashlinn’s skin. Inhaling a soft hint of lavender and the dizzying scent of Ash’s desire.

“Please, Mia,” the girl breathed.

Down, down to the smooth length of Ashlinn’s parted legs, running her tongue closer to that intoxicating heat. There was a small dark mole at the divot of Ash’s thigh and her sex, and Mia licked it slow, smiling dark.

“Please what?” she whispered.

“Please, Mia . . .”

She pursed her lips, blew softly on her mark as Ashlinn shivered. She’d been tasted before, but never done the tasting, anticipation curling in her belly and making her tremble. She wanted to take her time, to savor every second, the thrill of it all, but Ash snarled her fingers in Mia’s hair, and with a shivering gasp, dragged her in.

Silken softness, drenched with lust, parting under the press of her kiss. Mia moved slow, running her tongue through Ashlinn’s folds, flickering in and out. Ashlinn mewled and sighed, hips grinding in time, the hands in Mia’s hair pulling her in tighter. Mia found herself consumed by it, thirsty, starving; the taste of her, the flood of warm nectar across her tongue. Delighting in Ashlinn’s moans as she pinched her swollen nipples, ran her hands down the girl’s breasts, clawed her arse.

Ashlinn lost herself as Mia went to work in earnest, eyes rolling back in her head, half-hanging off the bed as she urged Mia on, don’t stop, don’t stop. Mia had never felt so much power; her every movement, every flick of her tongue or touch of her lips eliciting a groan, a whispered plea, a tremor running the length of Ashlinn’s entire body.

Time lost all meaning, each second a year, each year a heartbeat, the heat building between them, dragging Ash ever higher, hotter, brighter, her moans growing louder, longer, until she went tense as a bowstring, spine arching, thighs clamped either side of Mia’s head, every muscle taut and straining as she pointed her toes skyward and screamed as if the world were ending.

Ash’s whole body went limp in the breathless aftermath, Mia tracing light circles, still savoring the her taste, the power of her little triumph. She grinned as she sank her tongue deeper into Ash’s petals, making her groan, “Enough, Goddess, enough,” relenting as the girl gently pulled her up. Ash enfolded Mia in her arms, their bodies melding into one, slender legs wrapped around Mia’s waist as they sank into another long, hungry kiss. Ash’s taste mingled upon their tongues, and Mia found herself drowning in it, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks, so right and sweet and heaped in bliss she never wanted it to end.

But then she gasped, Ashlinn smacking her arse, biting her lips, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Ow,” Mia flinched. “What was that for?”

“Making me beg,” Ashlinn scowled.

“O?” Mia smiled, lips brushing Ashlinn’s own. “I heard no complaints at the time.”

“Don’t get a big head on me now, Corvere. That was beginner’s luck.”

“O, really?”

Soft laughter turned to warm shivers as Ash nuzzled her neck.

“Really,” the girl breathed, teeth brushing her skin.

“Then . . . perhaps the dona would give the novice a demonstration?”

“Say please.”

“I—ah!”

Mia gasped as Ashlinn dragged her head back by her hair, landed another firm smack on her backside. The girl’s lips drifted along Mia’s throat, teeth grazing her jugular, fingernails tracing lines of fire and ice up her soaking thighs.

“Say,” Ash whispered, nipping Mia’s throat, “please.”

In her heart, Mia had never bowed to anyone. Not in the Church, not in the arena, not in the bedchamber. And though she’d delighted in the control of a moment ago, her every touch, her every move setting the girl in her arms aflame, Mia wondered if there might be a deeper joy found in some small moment of surrender.

Ash’s fingers danced over her, light as the breeze. Mia’s belly tightened as the girl sank lower, her tongue drawing a tightening spiral around her heaving breast.

“Say it,” the girl whispered, flicking Mia’s nipple with her tongue.

Smoky light filtered through the curtain, and Mia closed her eyes as Ashlinn descended, not wanting to see or hear or speak, but only to feel. A waterfall of kisses, cascading down her body, Ash’s hands seemingly everywhere at once. Mia found her legs parting of their own volition, the ache between them a sweet agony, her breath growing ragged, heart pounding with anticipation. A feeling like nothing she’d ever known was budding inside her—not with Tric, not with Aalea, not with Aurelius and that golden beauty, desire swelling to a burning pitch as she felt Ashlinn kneel between her legs, hot breath against her swollen lips.

“Say . . .”

A brush of the girl’s tongue, impossibly light, making Mia buck and shiver.

“ . . . please.”

Mia lifted her head, looking down the length of her body to Ashlinn, poised to devour her. Heart hammering, not enough breath in her lungs, dizzy. And eyes fluttering closed once more, she let her head fall back and the tension flee from her bones as she gave herself over to it utterly.

“Please,” Mia breathed.

A long, low moan escaped her lips as Ashlinn went to work, lips and tongue dancing in the dark. She’d no idea where the girl had learned her skills; Aalea, some new lover, some old flame. But Goddess, it was blinding. Ash was a maestro, the tune between them, older than time. The heat in her pulsed hotter with every brush of the girl’s tongue, Mia barely able to breathe, bedsheet twisted in her tightening fists. She almost lost her mind when she felt Ashlinn slip a finger inside her, curling, coaxing, stoking that smoldering heat, arkemical current crackling to the tips of her toes.

“O, Goddess . . .”

Helpless before it, caught up and swept away, a hurricane of lust and longing, the heat inside her almost impossible to bear. Ashlinn was merciless, the rhythm of her tongue matched by her touch, Mia’s back arching, lifting her hips high off the bed, mouth in a perfect O, fingers snarled in the red river of Ashlinn’s hair and dragging her deeper, harder, more, more. She was shaking so hard she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak save to wordlessly beg an ending to it all. And as she felt Ashlinn’s hand move, a second finger joining the first, Mia’s hips bucked uncontrollably, black stars blooming behind her eyes, the heat inside her bursting into ravenous flame and she lost herself, screaming soundlessly, blinded by the fire of a thousand suns.

She felt soft lips on her own, wet and darkly sweet. Mia opened her eyes and saw a girl above her, beautiful, smiling.

A girl she shouldn’t trust.

A lover she shouldn’t love.

She tried to find her breath, heart hammering against her ribs.

“That was . . . impressive . . .”

“That was overdue,” Ashlinn grinned.

Mia dragged her in for a kiss, their lips crushed together, the ripples of her climax still tingling in her bones. Breaking apart after a long, sweet forever, Ashlinn flopped back on the mattress, breathing a contented sigh.

Mia climbed out of the bed, legs still shaking. Atop the drawers, she found her silver cigarillo case, lighting one with her flintbox before slipping back between the sheets. Ashlinn threw her arms around her, took her hand and kissed her wounded knuckles before snuggling closer, nuzzling her neck. Mia took a drag of the cigarillo, inhaling deep and feeling the sweet, heavy gray fill her lungs.

“You smoke a lot,” Ash murmured.

“Settles the nerves,” Mia replied.

“Make you nervous, do I?”

Mia held out her hand in answer. She was usually rock-steady, never a tremor to weaken her swordgrip. But her hands were shaking now.

“O, you’re all aquiver, love,” Ash cooed. “First times will do that to a girl, neh?”

“Let’s see yours then, smartarse.”

Ash held up her own hand, and though she tried to hide it, Mia could see she was shaking too. She could feel the girl’s breast pressed against her, the heart beneath running to the same thunderous tune. Threading her fingertips through Ashlinn’s own, she sensed the current crackling between them. Realizing she was still thirsty.

“Perhaps you should take up smoking.”

Ash made a face. “Don’t enjoy the taste, I’m afraid.”

“I can make it sweeter . . .”

Dragging deep on the cigarillo, Mia inhaled another warm lungful. And tipping up Ashlinn’s chin with her fingertips, she leaned in close and kissed her, lips parted, breathing into her mouth. Her lips were sugared from the cigarillo paper, the clove-scented smoke drifting around their tongues as the kiss deepened. Ash tilted her head and sighed, pressing the length of her body against Mia’s own. Mia’s hands roamed her back, feeling the goosebumps rising on Ashlinn’s skin, the sweet ache rising once more between her legs. Ashlinn closed her mouth, sucking on Mia’s tongue before breaking the kiss.

“Not bad,” she smiled, exhaling gray. “But I’m still not taking up smoking.”

Mia shrugged, taking another drag. Ashlinn settled in against her side again, Mia’s arm around her shoulder. They lay in silence for a time, listening to the sounds of the nevernight outside. She took a good look at the girl in her arms, the slender curves, the twin divots at the base of her spine, fingers pushing the long tresses of blood-red aside and exposing . . .

. . . the inkwerk crawling across on her back.

“ . . . What’s that?” Mia whispered.

Ashlinn tensed, sitting up and tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

She’d only caught a glimpse, but Mia had seen intricate lines and shading, a hint of strange writing, the shape of a curved blade on Ash’s left shoulder . . .

“One stipulation,” Solis said, holding up his finger. “An item of import to your patron. A map, written in Old Ashkahi and set with a seal shaped like a sickle’s blade.”

. . . Goddess.

“The map,” Mia realized. “Duomo’s map.”

“Is that why you came here?” Ash asked softly.

Mia frowned, cigarillo bobbing on her lips. “What?”

“Eclipse is always skulking about. Maybe she caught a glimpse.” The girl fixed Mia in her bluesky stare. “So you figure the only way you’ll get a better look is to get my clothes off? Smart play, Corvere.”

“ . . . Is that what you think?”

“I don’t think anything.” Ash squared her shoulders, tossing her hair back and hiding the tattoo from sight. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Ash, I had no idea. Why do you have Duomo’s map tattooed on your back?”

“Not tattooed,” she said, nodding to the double circles marked on Mia’s cheek. “It’s arkemical, just like your brand.”

Mia blinked as realization struck her. “So if they kill you . . .”

“The brand disappears. No map for them.” The girl shrugged. “People who play with fire do better if they expect to get burned.”

A dozen questions burned in Mia’s mind. What was so important about this map that Ashlinn had it indelibly branded on her skin? What did Duomo and Scaeva want with it, that they were set to move so openly against each other to obtain it? Where did it lead? Where did the girl she’d just been holding in her arms fit in with all of it?

“There’s a lot about this you’re not telling me, Ashlinn.”

“I could say the same for you, Mia.”

“Such as?”

Ashlinn looked deep into her eyes, swallowing hard.

“Why did you come here? Why now?”

“Because I wanted to be with you.”

“But why?”

Mia took a drag of cigarillo, mulling it over.

“Because I was thinking. About all the things that brought me to this point. The things that made me what I am, and all the things I could’ve been if I’d been given a choice. And then I didn’t want to think anymore.”

“So that’s all this was?” Ashlinn kept her face steady, her voice cool, but Mia could see the storm building in that sunsburned blue. “Just a distraction?”

“The sweetest distraction,” Mia smiled.

“No jesting,” Ashlinn said. “You run hot and cold as a faulty bathhouse, and if this was just a quick roll to fuck unpleasant thoughts away, that’s fine. I’d rather that, than a ruse to see the ink on my skin. But whichever it was, I need to know.”

“It was neither, Ash.”

“I know a lie when I taste it, Mia.”

Mia sighed, shook her head. She’d pondered it on the way here, stealing down through the nevernight streets. Why it hadn’t been right before, why it felt right now. Her fight with Furian had left her enflamed, her fight with Sid had done nothing to sate it. But it wasn’t simply that, wasn’t the thought of her parents or the painful reminders being locked up in that place or the thought of where she’d been or what was to come.

“I thought about all the things I could’ve been if I’d been given a choice,” she finally said. “And I realized that mostly I’ve never had one. Ever since my father was killed, my feet were set upon this course. No denying it. No escape. So I wanted to choose something for myself. Something that could just be mine. My choice.”

Mia looked at Ash, running trembling fingertips across her cheek.

“And I chose you.”

Ashlinn simply stared, beestung lips parted as she breathed, and Mia found herself falling, down into a long, sweet kiss. Ashlinn surged against her, hands cupping her face, lost in the sweetness of a kiss that seemed to shiver all the way to Mia’s soul. She pulled away only with reluctance, dark eyes searching Ashlinn’s own.

“Do I taste like I’m lying?” she asked.

Ashlinn smiled soft, shook her head.

“No. Do I?”

Did she? Had anything changed here? Wasn’t everything still the same? The question of this map—where it led, why Duomo wanted it, what it all meant—still hung between them. Ashlinn Järnheim was still a girl who’d do anything to get what she wanted. Lie, cheat, steal, kill. She had secrets. She was dangerous.

But was Mia so different?

The more time they spent together, the more kinship she saw with this girl she supposed she should despise.

“You taste like honey,” Mia whispered.

Ashlinn smiled, pressed her forehead to Mia’s. Mia closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the streets outside, to the cool nevernight winds, now slowly dying. She had questions. Too many questions. But the turn would soon begin, Executus would rouse them for another session of sweat and beatings and bloody Furian, and all of it—for a blessed moment forgotten in the arc of this girl’s arms—came flooding back. Mia remembered who she was. What she was. Opening her eyes and sighing.

“We need to talk on this some more. But I have to get back.”

“I know,” Ashlinn said, leaning in for another brief kiss.

“I want to stay.”

“I know,” Ash breathed, nibbling her lower lip. “Just promise to return.”

“Say please.”

Ashlinn’s nibble turned into a painful bite.

“Fuck you, Corvere,” she smiled.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“I didn’t ask, remember?”

Grinning, she kissed Ashlinn’s eyes, Ashlinn’s cheek, Ashlinn’s lips, steeling herself against the moment. And then she rose from the bed, their bed, wrapping herself in her scraps of cloth, dreading the sunslight that awaited her just beyond the curtain. But still, she pulled the fabric aside, squinting against the brightness, turning to take one last look at the beauty she was leaving behind.

Has anything changed here?

With a sigh, she climbed out into the waiting light.

Nothing would ever be the same again.