Godsgrave

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 too pretty to perish.” Mia tossed her fringe from her eyes.

Solis sneered. “Marielle will tend to your wounds. Adonai will prepare your transportation to Godsgrave. Say your farewells and be in his chambers by midbells.”

Questions bounced around inside her skull. Who was this patron? Why kill a member of the braavi? Why did they request her specifically? What’s on this map?

It doesn’t matter, she realized.

It wasn’t her place to ask. It was her place to serve. The sooner she proved herself, the sooner she’ d earn a permanent posting in the Godsgrave Chapel. And from there, no matter what Solis might say, she’ d be one step closer to her revenge.

The wolf did not pity the lamb.

The storm begged no forgiveness of the drowned.

“I’ll not fail,” Mia vowed. “In the Black Mother’s name, I swear it.”

Solis folded his arms, his face unreadable in the gloom.

“Go,” he finally said. “May Our Lady be late when she finds you. And when she does, may she greet you with a kiss.”

Mia took the scroll case, tucked it under her arm along with her beaten book. Bowing low, she backed slowly out of the hall. As she stalked away down the darkened corridors, past beautiful stained-glass windows and grotesque bone sculptures, two shapes slipped from the darkness and fell into step alongside her.

A cat made of shadows. And beside it, a wolf of the same.

“Can you believe him?” Mia hissed. “Calling me ‘acolyte,’ the bastard.”

“… you act as if solis’s bastardry is some kind of revelation …,” Mister Kindly replied.

Eclipse’s growl came from somewhere beneath the floor.

“… CASSIUS ALWAYS THOUGHT OF HIM AS AN ARROGANT THUG. OF ALL THE MINISTRY, HE LIKED SOLIS LEAST. ONE TURN, WE SHOULD TEACH HIM A LESSON IN MANNERS …”

“… there are less dramatic forms of suicide, pup …”