She stretched out her hand, watched the shadows play. Feeling the power that had been growing inside her these last few turns finally blooming. With a wave of her hand, a tendril of shadow flipped an entire stack of books into the air, scattering the tomes across the room. At her whim, more shadows reached out, putting each book back in its proper place. She opened her bedroom door with a glance. Dressed without lifting a finger.
"...bravo...," Mister Kindly had said. "...if only i had hands to applaud..."
Mia smacked her backside. "I`d settle for lips to kiss my sweet behind."
"...i would have to find it first..."
"Arses are like wine, Mister Kindly. Better too little than too much."
"...a beauty and a philosopher. be still, my beating heart..."
The not-cat looked down at its translucent chest.
"...o, wait..."

"It can`t be..."
Tric peered over her shoulder. "Aye. It`s a book all right."
"This is Ephaesus. The Book of Wonders."
"Good read?"
"I wouldn`t know. Every copy in existence was incinerated in the Bright Light. This book... it shouldn`t exist." Mia`s gaze roamed the stacks. "Look, there`s Bosconi`s Heresies. And Lantimo the Elder`s treatise On Dark and Light."
"Mia, I`m starting to get the feeling we shouldn`t be in here..."
Tric`s fear echoed her own, but she pushed back against it, hard as she could. "The truth of what I am must be in here somewhere. I`m not leaving 'til we find it."
"Maybe we should start at the letter S?"
"S?"
"S for stubborn. S for stupid. S for smart-arse."
"S for shut it."
"See, that`s the spirit."

"What do you want, Red?"
"Your skull on the Senate House steps beside my father`s," Jess replied.
Mia sighed. "Julius Scaeva executed my da just like he did yours. That makes us allies, not enemies. We both hate the sa—"
"Don`t talk to me about hate," the girl snarled. "You`ve never tasted it, Corvere. My whole familia is dead because of your fucking traitor father."
"You call my father a traitor one more time," Mia growled, "you`re going to see your familia again a little sooner than you`d like."

For a moment, Mia found herself swept up, cradled in his arms, spun and dipped and swayed as the music seemed to grow louder still and all the world beyond became nothing. For a moment, she wasn`t Mia Corvere, daughter of a murdered house, parched with the thirst for revenge. Not a fledging assassin or a servant of a goddess. Just a girl. And a boy. Their eyes blind to all but each other. Aalea`s voice echoing in her ears.
"Enjoy yourselves, my dears. Laugh. Love. Remember what it is to live, and forget, if only for a moment, what it is to serve."

One of the most feared swordsmen of his age, Antony Caravaggio was a duelist in the court of King Francisco III. An infamous rake with a fondness for young donas of quality, Caravaggio fought no less than forty-three duels over the course of his life, and reportedly sired fourteen bastards. Caravaggio fought with twin blades — one in each hand — pioneering the art of dual-wielding that eventually bore his name.
Ironically, his fondness for twins also proved his downfall: he was killed in a duel by Don Lentilus Varus after spending a night of drunken passion with Varus`s twin daughters, Lucilla and Lucia. Reportedly still intoxicated and too exhausted to heft his rapier, he was skewered by his opponent quite easily — an inglorious end for such an artisan of the blade.
His last words were reportedly "Worth it..."