Darkdawn--Book Three of the Nevernight Chronicle

by Jay Kristoff

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “So suddenly keen for my counsel, are we?” Aelius scoffed. “You haven’t set foot in this place for a fucking decade.”

  “I am the Lady of Blades, the Red Church is—”

  “Don’t you fucking dare lecture me on what this place is and isn’t,” Aelius spat. “I know it better than any of you.”

  “I am not diminishing your contribution, Chronicler, but times have—”

  “Contribution?” Aelius crowed. “I started this fucking place!”

  “But times have changed!” Drusilla finished, rising to her feet. “You may have carved this church out of nothing, aye. But that was centuries past, Aelius. Millennia ago. The world you knew is dust, and for all your service to the Maw, she saw fit to drag you back from your place at Hearth centuries after you were dead, and for what? To make you her general? Her undying Lord of Blades to lead her flock to new and greater heights? No!” Drusilla shoved aside the stack of books on his desk, sent them spilling across the floor. “She made you her damned librarian.”

  Out in the dark, a bookworm roared again. Closer this time. Aelius drew long and deep on his cigarillo, embers sparking in his eyes, his fingers stained with ink.

  “Don’t fuck with librarians, young lady. We know the power of words.”

  “Spare me,” Drusilla said. “Where is the third one?”

  “Third what?”

  “The third volume!” Drusilla said, slamming her palm down on the first two chronicles in time with her words. “Birth! Life! Where is Death?”

  “Waiting for you right outside in those shelves, you keep kicking these books around.”

  “Where?” Drusilla snarled.

  The chronicler tilted his head back, breathed gray into the air. “Dunno. Never looked for it. Things don’t get found in this place unless they’re supposed to be.”

  “That, good Chronicler, is but the latest in a series of foolish assumptions.”

  Drusilla snatched up the two Nevernight Chronicles and stalked past him, her blue eyes flashing with anger and impatience. He caught the scent of roses in her long gray hair, and underneath, the faint aroma of tea and death. Walking to the mighty Athenaeum doors, Drusilla flung them wide, glowering at the legion of Hands waiting in the dark beyond. Dozens of them. Maybe a hundred. Black-clad and closemouthed, awaiting orders like obedient lambs.

  This was never how it was meant to be.

  This was supposed to be a house of wolves, not sheep.

  “You will search every inch of this library,” she told them. “Every shelf, every nook. Do no harm to the books, and the worms will do no harm to you. But you will find what I seek.” She raised the first two chronicles in her hands, displayed them before the servants. “The third in this chronicle. Mercurio of Liis the author. May the Mother be late when she finds you. And when she does, may she greet you with a kiss.”

  The Hands bowed, and without a word, swarmed out into the shelves.

  Drusilla turned back to Aelius, the two volumes in her hand.

  “You don’t mind if I borrow these, do you, good Chronicler?”

  The old ghost glanced to the Hands among the forest of dark wood, the rustling leaves of vellum and parchment and paper and leather and hide. He stubbed his cigarillo out on the wall and sighed.

  “Just let me fetch you a returns slip.”

  CHAPTER 23

  WAR

  Mia dreamed.

  A sky as gray as the moment you realize you’re no longer in love.

  Water like a mirror beneath her, horizon to horizon beneath a forever sky.

  Her breath was cold as starlight, chest rising and falling like her mother and father across the heavens. It would be nighttime soon. Time for her to ascend her throne and watch the night spread her gowns across the heavens.

  She would be full tonight. And beautiful. Reflecting her father’s light, bringing day to the dark, eating their fear and smiling as they walked the night, unafraid.

  All in balance.

  “No rival will I suffer,” a voice said.

  She opened her not-eyes.

  Julius Scaeva stood above her, a knife in hand.

  “Forgive me, child.”

  And the knife fell.

  * * *

  Mia opened her eyes.

  The curtains were drawn, but she could hear heavy waves on a stony shore, wind between the rocks, mournful gulls crying in the rain. The dream was a fresh echo in her head—the same one she’d been having every nevernight since Godsgrave. Her pulse was running quick, her heart thudding. She was surprised that the thump of it against her ribs hadn’t woken her brother.

  She turned to the boy in the bed beside her, his eyes closed, his expression serene. She brushed a stray curl from his brow and wondered what he dreamed. Envying him that he seemed to have escaped these strange visions that plagued her own sleep. If everything Tric said was true, there was a part of Anais inside Jonnen, too. And yet he slept like a babe.

  She wondered why.

  Could almost hear Tric’s reply.

  BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MOTHER’S CHOSEN.

  She sat up in bed, dragging her hair back from her face and breathing deep. The inn they’d booked lodgings in was called Blue Maria’s, and truth told, it was a little nicer than The Pub. Ash had booked the largest room they had, and the seven of them had trudged upstairs, sticking together for the sake of safety.

  Sid and Butcher were on the floorboards, wrapped in piles of blankets. Ash was curled up against Mia’s back in bed. A fire was burning in a small hearth, bringing a comfortable whiskey-warmth to the room. Paintings of the ocean on the walls, ships in rough wooden frames. Bladesinger was sat in a rocking chair, sword across her lap, dark eyes on the bedchamber door. She looked at Mia, her voice a soft murmur.

  “You were having bad dreams.”

  “True dreams,” Mia muttered.

  “Ah. They’re the worst.”

  Mia rubbed her face, looked the Dweymeri woman in the eye.

  “What do you dream about, ’Singer?”

  The woman breathed deep and sighed. “Men I’ve killed, mostly. Friends I’ve lost. The feel of arena sands under my feet. You know what it was like. You lived that life. It stays with you, even when you sleep.” She looked at Mia and smiled as if sharing a secret. “But sometimes, if I try hard enough, I can change it.”

  “Change it?” Mia asked. “To what?”

  “Instead of the sands of the arena, I think of sands on the beach of Farrow. I imagine myself walking on bright white shores and the kiss of the waves about my ankles. The smell of the ocean and crays cooking on an open fire and the feel of sunslight on my skin.” Bladesinger smiled. “You should try it. Next time you sleep. Take ahold of the dream and make it what you want. It belongs to you, after all.”

  Mia looked around the room and sighed. “Want me to watch for a while?”

  ’Singer shook her head. “Sid just woke me. You should sleep.”

  Mia carefully extricated herself from her brother and Ash, pulled her wolfskin boots on. She stood and stretched, slung her swordbelt over her shoulder, then padded softly toward the door. The fire reached toward her as she passed, hands of flame clawing and grasping at her heels. She spat into it.

  “I’m going to have a smoke,” she whispered. “If you’ve a need, just shout.”

  The Dweymeri woman nodded, rocked back in her chair, hands at rest on her blade. Mia slipped out the door, quiet as cats, her footfalls barely a whisper on the bare floorboards. She stole down the end of the corridor, through a creaking door, and out onto a balcony overlooking the docks. The wind was bitter cold, the rain still spitting, and it took three attempts to light her cigarillo. She breathed a plume of clove-scented gray, eyes narrowed against the smoke. Watching the steel-dark waters lapping against the jetties, the ships at berth, her eyes drifting past the Thorn Towers and their twists of razorvine to The Pub nestled down the boardwalk. Thoughts turning to the pale bo
y sitting by its hearth, patient as the dead.

  “THE ONLY WEAPON IN THIS WAR IS FAITH.”

  Mia shook her head. Still unsure what to believe, or where she’d find any faith in the midst of all this. She remembered Tric’s words at that ruined tower—his confession that he’d given up his place at the Hearth so he could come back for her. The thought frightened her, saddened her, and, yes, in some way, excited her. There was an allure in being so utterly wanted. To think she had such power over a boy that he’d defy death itself to stand by her side.

  She remembered the feel of him inside her. The press of his hands against her. Wondering what it would be like now to touch him. Kiss him. Fuck him.

  Licking her lips, she tasted sugar from the cigarillo paper, the smoke setting her tongue tingling. She pressed her thighs together, slipped one hand down the front of her britches, savoring the ache. Looking at the road ahead of her and wondering exactly where it ended. Where she might like it to. Skin like marble and eyes like truedark and clever fingers roaming all the way down …

  “All right, enough,” she growled.

  She dragged the last breath out of her smoke, crushed it underheel. Tossing her windblown hair from her face, she slipped back inside, closing the door against the bitter, clawing wind. Wondering if she should head downstairs to check on—

  A dark shape hit her as she turned, one hand at her neck, another grasping her wrist. She gasped, crushed back against the wall, her free hand fumbling for her sword as she felt a hard body pressed up against her, warm lips against her cheek, her throat. A flash of blond hair. A hint of lavender perfume.

  “Ash?” she hissed. “’Byss and blood, I could’ve—”

  Ash silenced her with a kiss, lips crushed to hers, hands slipping under her shirt and tracing lines of delightful featherlight fire along her hips, into the small of her back. Mia’s heart was thumping from fright as Ash’s hands slipped down into her britches and squeezed her arse. Mia dragged her mouth away, Ash biting her lower lip as they parted.

  “What the ’byss are you doing?” Mia whispered.

  “Waiting for you to sneak out for a smoke,” Ash smiled, smoothing a lock of Mia’s hair from her face. “Knew you’d be fiending for it. I fell asleep, though. You almost got the slip on me, bitch.”

  “If you wanted a snog in the hallway you could’ve asked.”

  “Not asking.” Ash shook her head. “Taking.”

  She kissed Mia again, mouth open, deep as shadows. Mia sighed as she felt Ash’s hand sliding across her belly, slipping down the front of her britches where Mia’s hand had been a moment before. A soft moan slipped over her lips as Ashlinn kissed her neck, nibbling, nuzzling, setting her shivering and sinking back against the wall. Her legs parted slightly, her heart racing, and not from her fright.

  Ash’s lips brushed her ear. “I got us a second room.”

  “… What?”

  “When I booked the first. Just for us. For the night.”

  Mia laughed softly. “Devious bitch.”

  “I’ve been aching for you since you knocked that bastard’s teeth out, Mia Corvere,” Ashlinn whispered. “It gets my blood up, watching you win.”

  Mia groaned as Ash’s fingers moved between her legs. “What about…”

  “Your brother’s with ’Singer and the others,” Ash murmured, lips brushing her throat. “Safe as he can be. They can spare you for an hour or two. Goddess knows when we’ll have time again.”

  Ash reached up under Mia’s shirt with her free hand, drawing whisper-soft circles across her breasts, tightening spirals around her hardening nipples. Her breath was hot, urgent on Mia’s neck, her fingers working a blinding magik between her legs.

  “I want you,” Ash whispered.

  “O, Goddess…”

  “I want you.”

  Mia slipped her fingers into Ash’s hair, dragged her up into a breathless, aching kiss. Cheeks flushed, pressed up against the wall, she crushed Ash to her, breathing hard in the shivering dark, every thought, every foe, every fear vanishing from her mind as she sighed around their tongues.

  “I want you, too…”

  * * *

  They fucked like war.

  War and blood and fire.

  They almost didn’t make it into the room, Ash fumbling with the key as Mia pressed the length of her body up against her from behind, kissing the back of her neck, fingernails digging into her skin. They slammed the door behind them and Mia slammed Ash up against it, her laughter turning to a breathless moan as Mia lunged at her throat. Mia pressed her lips to burning skin, felt Ashlinn’s pulse hammering under her teeth and tongue. Ash’s hands slipped up her shirt and across her back, tickling, teasing. But Mia took hold of her wrists, pressed them back firmly against the frame, grinding up against her as she kissed and nipped her neck.

  Chest heaving, lips twisted in a wicked smile, Ash thrust her away. Mia stumbled back and Ash collided with her, shoving her back onto the bed. They collapsed on the mattress in a tangle, Ash’s breath coming quicker as she tore at the ties on Mia’s britches, eyes glazed with lust. Mia dragged Ash’s shirt up and pulled her close, kissed her breasts, licking and sucking and sighing her adoration. But Ash pushed her back down onto the bed, pressed Mia’s hands against her chest to still them, finally getting her britches loose and dragging them down around her knees. Mia pushed her off and they fell to struggling, laughing and cursing and biting, flushed and panting, muscles taut, neither willing to yield. Mouth to mouth, tongues dancing against each other as they stripped each other’s clothes off in a torturous, maddening battle, piece by piece, sweat rising on their skin, each boot or button a small, breathless victory.

  Ash’s kisses were hungry, angry, their bodies pressed together as they rolled across the bed, finally, wonderfully naked. Mia spread her legs and groaned, back arching as Ash’s fingers slipped down and began to strum, hypnotic, melodic, playing a blinding symphony on her swollen lips. Mia’s own hand went searching, across the swell of Ash’s heaving breasts, down her drum-tight belly, through downy softness into slick, drenched heat.

  “O, Goddess,” Mia sighed.

  “Yes,” Ash breathed. “O, fuck yes.”

  She moaned as Mia’s fingers slipped inside her, curling and coaxing, O, Goddess, she’s so warm, lighting a fire that set her trembling. Ashlinn threw her head back and groaned, her hands matching Mia’s ecstatic rhythm as she swayed and rolled her hips in time. Mia pressed her mouth to Ash’s neck, fingers entwined in long, golden tresses, teeth nipping her skin, grinding against her hand. Each girl stoking the rising flames inside the other, each caress, each trembling touch, hotter, higher, more, more, until finally, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, they set each other aflame. Ash cried out, hair strewn across her face, muffling Mia’s own wordless cries as she crushed her to her breasts. Black light burst behind Mia’s eyes, brighter than truelight, her head thrown back as the immolation took her, shook her, leaving her trembling and gasping for breath.

  Mia’s fingers retreated, tracing lines of fire across the battleground of Ashlinn’s skin. She slipped them between her lips, savoring her lover’s taste, drunk with it. Ash found Mia’s mouth with her own again, moaning as she tasted herself between them, the pair sinking into an endless, soul-deep kiss. Ash wrapped long legs around Mia’s waist, squeezing tight, fingertips drawing arkemical spirals over her hips, across her back, up to the nape of her neck, shivers running all the way down her spine to coil thrumming and humming between her soaking thighs.

  Mia wanted to possess this girl. To own and be owned, every part of her, every desperate sugared secret, every smooth curve and shadowed arc.

  More.

  She wanted so much more.

  “Kiss me,” Mia whispered, caressing Ashlinn’s cheek.

  “I am kissing you,” Ashlinn sighed.

  “No,” Mia breathed, drawing back, looking deep into her lover’s eyes. “Kiss me.”

  Ashlinn’s breath came quicker, the thought making her shiv
er. Mia could see the want in her, the dazed, desperate, aching lust in her eyes, matching Mia’s own. She kissed Mia again, tongue darting into her mouth, lips curling in a dark smile.

  “Make me,” she breathed.

  Mia grinned, pressing Ashlinn back onto the sheets, pushing her hands up above her head. She sighed as Mia scattered a hundred lingering kisses across her lips, neck, breasts, her free hand once again slipping down between Ashlinn’s legs, rolling back and forth across her soaking lips. Pushing herself up onto her knees, Mia swung around, straddling Ashlinn’s face. And slowly,

  ever so slowly,

  “O, Goddess, yes,” Ash whispered.

  she lowered herself down onto Ashlinn’s waiting mouth.

  “O, fuck,” she groaned, shivering as she felt Ashlinn’s tongue tracing burning circles, over and around and finally inside, hands clawing her arse. Mia’s hips moved of their own accord, fingers roaming across her own skin, touching and teasing, plucking at her aching nipples, her thighs shaking. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, head drifting back as Ashlinn’s lips and tongue and fingers set her body humming, exploring her softest place, that dark, wondrous flame building inside her again.

  Mia opened her eyes, looked to her lover below her, wanting not only to be tasted but to taste in kind. Ash groaned as Mia dipped her head between her parted legs, wrapped her arms around her thighs, and sank her tongue into her depths. The sweetest nectar on her tongue, their mouths moving in time now, each moan sending vibrations through Mia’s whole body and making her moan in turn.

  Their struggles ceased. Their battle won. They were a song, then, the pair of them. A perfect duet, old as eons, deep as the dark between the stars. Not making war, but making love, sweet and deep and perfect, hands and lips and bodies, sighs and moans and shivers, skin to skin to skin. Prolonging the honeyed, blissful torture as long as they could stand, dripping with sweat, breathless and panting and burning white-hot, each in tune. Never wanting it to end. Never or ever.

  And finally,

  after a blissful age,

  lost utterly in time,