Godsgrave. Jay Kristoff
TRIC.
They’d made a promise. Him to her and her to him. If she were to fall, Tric had sworn to murder Scaeva and Duomo for her. And if he fell, she swore she’ d kill his wretched bastard of a grandfather, Swordbreaker. In truth, she thought she was owed a death after saving the lives of every man and woman in this room. But perhaps here was the reason she’ d been sent to a backwater like Galante?
Silence rang in the hall, Mia stewing within it.
“May I ask why I am here?” she finally ventured.
Solis’s lip curled. “You have a devotee, little Blade.”
The girl raised an eyebrow at the Revered Father. “If it’s someone in this hall, they hide it very well.”
Aalea smiled, lips dark as blood. “Perhaps ‘patron’ is a better word. The last three offerings you performed—the son of Senator Aurelius, Magistrate Phillip Cicerii, and the mistress of Armando Tulli—were all requested by the same client of the Church. They specifically requested the services of ‘she who slew the justicus of the Luminatii Legion and his finest centuries beside him.’ And they paid handsomely for you.”
“Who is this patron, Shahiid?”
“Irrelevant,” Solis scowled. “All you need know is that, miracle of miracles, they are pleased with your results. You are being sent after bigger game.”
Mia looked Solis up and down, considering. From the scowl at his brow, the tension in his jaw, she’ d wager her last coin the Revered Father had violently objected to her assignment. But despite that, she’ d been appointed anyway. Which meant this patron was powerful. Or rich. Or both.
Well, that narrows it down …
“So what new backwater does my illustrious patron send me to?” Mia asked. “Last Hope? Amai? Sto—”
“Godsgrave,” Mouser replied.
Mia’s tongue cleaved to her teeth, her heart running quicker.
Maw’s teeth. The ’Grave …
The capital of Itreya. Only the Church’s finest Blades served in the City of Bridges and Bones. Grand Cardinal Duomo lived there, as did Consul Scaeva. If Mia wanted revenge for her familia, her first step was getting close to the men who murdered them.
If she’ d somehow lucked into a dream posting …
“I know your mind,” Solis growled. “I know why you came to this Church and what it is you seek. So, while I am sending you to the capital against my better judgment, I am telling you this now, and I am telling you once.” Solis towered over her, blind eyes boring into Mia’s own. “Consul Julius Scaeva is not to be touched.”
Mia scowled. “Wh—”
“I will not tolerate you pursuing your own vendettas while serving this Ministry,” Solis said. “You already murdered a bara of the Dweymeri out of some misplaced sympathy for the boy you were bedding. I’ ll not have another unsanctioned kill wrought by your hand. Or your quim.”
“Who I bed is my concern. And you don’t get to dec—”
“I do decide!” Solis roared. “I am Revered Father of this congregation! I give not a beggar’s cuss for who you wet the furs with, but Swordbreaker was a fucking king! What if he’ d been a patron of this Church? We’d have breached Sanctity! Our reputation shattered over a child’s whim.”
“It wasn’t a whim, it was a promise!”
“Let us speak of promises, then, girl,” Solis spat. “Disobey me, and I promise you an ending from which even the Goddess herself would avert her gaze. Scaeva is not to be touched!”
“And why not?” Mia looked among the Ministry, her anger finally getting the better of her. “The Luminatii killed Lord Cassius, almost killed all of you! You think Scaeva didn’t order it? Remus was a fucking lapdog. You think he took a piss without asking the consul’s permission first?”
“Hear me now!” Solis raised a finger in warning, blind eyes flashing. “Scaeva will be dealt with. But in our own way. In our own time. You are a servant of Our Lady of Blessed Murder, and in the Mother’s name, that means you fucking serve!”
Mia felt her cheeks flush with rage. She stared into Solis’s blind eyes and imagined drawing the gravebone stiletto in her sleeve. Cutting his throat. Spilling his steaming guts onto the floor. But amid the outrage, a single, ice-cold thought took her by the scruff of the neck and shook her ’til she was still.
… He’s right.
She had been childish.
She had risked the Church’s reputation in killing Swordbreaker.
She had thought to kill Duomo and Scaeva if she got back to the ’Grave.
Her knuckles were white on the book in her grip. But she forced her fingers to unclench, speaking words that rang heavy in the quiet dark.
“In the Mother’s name. I will serve.”
Solis’s huge frame slowly relaxed—Mia realized he was actually hoping she’ d buck. But after a long heavy silence, the big man reached into his robe, produced a leather scroll case sealed with black wax.
“One kill. A woman who calls herself ‘the Dona.’ Leader of a braavi gang who run in the streets of Little Liis. You grew up there, neh?”
“… Aye.” Mia reached for the case.
“One stipulation,” the big man 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. The Dona is brokering an exchange with the map’s current owner. You must take the map, along with her life.”
“… What’s the map of?”
“It provides detailed directions to the Empire of None of Your Fucking Concern.”
“The exchange will take place in the headquarters of the Toffs,” Spiderkiller said. “Before month’s end.”
“That’s eight turns from now,” Mia said.
“Black Mother be praised,” Solis replied. “The girl can count.”
“On both hands, Revered Father.”
Solis gave over the scroll case with a scowl. Mia sucked her lip, mind spinning. Eight turns wasn’t long to plan a kill like this. She needed backup she could trust.
“Can I bring my own Hand to the ’Grave?” she asked. “My last one met a crossbow bolt he didn’t like.”
“I fear not,” Aalea said, as if reading her mind. “Naev is needed here. With most of our blood pools destroyed, our supply situation is critical. A new chapel has been built in the necropolis beneath Godsgrave. The local bishop will provide you with a Hand. Adonai has already sent a blood missive informing him of your arrival.”
Solis tilted his head, milk-white eyes aimed somewhere over Mia’s shoulder.
“You have eight turns to end this Dona and recover the map. Your patron may have more offerings for you, presuming you do not perish in pursuit of this first.”
“I’m