“… you’re just going to keep rubbing that in, aren’t y—”
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the not-cat faded away like smoke. Mia looked up to see an administratii unlocking her cell. The man was stocky, bearded, clad in white robes marked with the three suns of the Itreyan Republic. Beside him stood a young boy in a short-sleeved novice frock, carrying a tall chair and a mahogany box.
Dona Leona walked softly into the cell, followed by one of the most wellbuilt men Mia had ever seen. He was Itreyan, perhaps in his mid-thirties, thick beard going gray at the edges, thick hair swept up and back in a long tail. His skin was like leather, and a particularly vicious scar bisected his brow, cheek and lip, twisting his features into a perpetual scowl. His stare was bloodshot, and he leaned heavily on a walking stick, its handle shaped like a lion’s head. Looking down, Mia saw he was missing his left leg below the knee, an iron pin affixed there instead.
He scowled at Mia with steel-gray eyes, his voice like cracking stone.
“She’s a girl.”
Dona Leona raised one perfectly manicured brow. “I noticed.”
“’Byss and blood, Dona, you dropped a thousand silver on this slip? I’m not a miracle worker. I need good clay to work with.”
“She killed five men in five minutes,” Leona said. “She was worth every coin.”
“A bloody good thing, then. Since we’ve not a beggar left to our names.”
“We’ve two other purchases this trip, both fine stock. And you’ve no cause to rebuke me, Executus. If you weren’t out drinking the Garden dry yestereve, you’d have been with me this morn when I made purchase.”
The big man grunted, looked again at Mia.
“On your feet, slave.”
Mia complied mutely, stood with hands clasped. The man limped in a circle around her, iron leg clanking on the stone. He poked the muscle at her gut, squeezed her biceps with massive hands, checked her teeth. Mia endured the inspection silently, eyes downturned. She could smell goldwine on his breath.
“She’s too short,” he declared. “No reach in these arms.”
“She is fast as the wind,” Leona replied.
“She’s too young. It’ll be years before she’s ready for the sand.”
“Five men,” Leona repeated, “in five minutes.”
“She’s a girl,” the big man growled.
“So was I,” the dona replied softly. “And you never thought lesser of me for it.”
“One sniff of her and the men will lose their fucking minds.”
“Did my father not say the same about me when I’d visit the collegium? And was it not you who asked that I be allowed to stay? To learn?”
“A different tale, Mi Dona. You were the domini’s daughter. This slip’s going to be down in the barracks with the rest of them.”
“And until she proves herself in the Winnowing, you will ensure my investment comes to no harm,” Leona said coolly.
“She’ll never survive the Winnowing.”
“Then you will have the distinct pleasure of saying ‘I told you so,’ Executus.”
The big man scowled at Mia. She met his stare, just for a second. Fury burned in the blacks of her pupils as a silent vow echoed in her mind.
You’ll be eating those words come truelight, bastard.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“They call me Crow, Mi Don,” she replied, eyes once more to the floor.
“Do I look like a fucking don to you, girl? You will address me as Executus.”
It was all Mia could do not to bury her knee in his bollocks. Punch his teeth loose from his jaw and dance on his head.
“Yes, Executus,” she replied.
The man glowered, his expression turned all the darker by his scar. Bladework, she reckoned. Probably earned somewhere on the sand. He moved like a fighter. Graceful and powerful, despite the missing leg.
“We sail on the morrowtide,” Leona said. “The sooner we return to Crow’s Nest and begin her training, the better.”
Mia’s heart surged in her chest.
“… Crow’s Nest?” she whispered.
The slap knocked her back into the wall. Her head cracked on the stone and she collapsed to her knees, gasping. She was back on her feet in a moment, eyes flashing with hatred as she glared at the man who’d slapped her. But quick as silver, the executus’s fist crashed into her belly, sending her to her knees once more.
He’s fast …
Mia felt a brutish hand in her hair, dragging back her head as she gasped in pain.
“You forget your place, girl,” the big man said. “If ever again you speak in presence of your domina without being spoken to, I’ll set my blade to your tongue and feed it to my fucking dog. Do you hear me?”
Patience …
“Yes, Executus,” she whispered.
The man grunted, released his hold. Mia glanced up at Leona, saw the woman regarding her with a cool, imperious gaze. Whatever her opinion of Mia’s martial skills, it was clear her new domina had no issue with her man’s brutal methods.
After a moment’s tense silence, Dona Leona turned to the administratii, still waiting patiently in the corridor.
“Come, then, be about your work.”
The administratii shuffled into the cell, his novice beside him. The boy plonked the tall chair down beside Mia, opened the mahogany box he carried and proffered it to the administratii. Inside Mia saw a collection of iron needles. Powders in stoppered phials, small bottles of ink. Her shadow surged, fear swelling in her belly. She knew this was coming. It was all part of the game. But still …
“Sit,” the administratii said.
Mia dragged herself up from the floor, glanced at the buckles and straps on the chair’s armrests. They obviously intended to bind her for what came next. She knew if she spoke again, she’d only earn herself another blow. And so she fixed her stare on the small barred window, the blue sky beyond. And she remained standing.
The executus growled deep, raised his hand to strike.
“Do as you’re—”
“No,” Dona Leona said, watching Mia with curious eyes. “Let her stand.”
“All respect, Dona Leona,” said the administratii,
