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i. the glass is less and less full
The Bride didn’t even bother to learn the new ones’ names before she stalked back to her cell. Not much had changed since the last time they’d left Belle Reve; the sheets on her bunk were even folded exactly as she remembered leaving them.
She flung herself onto her bunk, crossing her legs at her ankles. She laced her arms behind her head and stared at the ceiling.
Weasel scratched at the doorframe.
“It’s fine,” she responded, figuring that was close enough an answer to whatever he was asking.
She listened to his claws click against the concrete as he crept away. That was all she expected at the moment; it wasn’t like Phosphorus was going to inquire as to her emotional well-being.
The Bride began to imagine what Nina might ask her, then shook her head. She was mad enough without granting a sliver of her brain to an imaginary ghost.
She closed her eyes and sank deep into her body, feeling the creak of her borrowed lungs.
ii. how long will you be so beautiful?
Princess Ilana Rostovic hadn’t impressed the Bride at first; she was too busy internally damning Waller for making her set foot back in godsdamned Pokolistan. The princess was pretty enough, she supposed, but she’d seen plenty of leggy blondes over the centuries.
She’d also seen plenty of women turn strategically flighty in the presence of men with pretensions of power. Seeing Ilana near-on giggle at Flag’s posturing, the Bride rolled her eyes and put the woman out of her mind.
And if she noticed the way Ilana’s gaze drifted over her throat, the curve of her hip, and the length of her boots, well. She was used to getting that from leggy blondes, as well.
iii. a bad dream of you choking
Their next mission was to Boravia and the Bride only barely paid attention to what their objectives were. Something to do with stabilizing the black market by murdering someone, probably.
She was scouting the outskirts of an armory or whatever when Princess Ilana rounded the corner wearing tactical gear and, unfortunately, accompanied by three guards pointing an array of weaponry in her direction.
The Bride dropped a hand to her hip. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Ilana shrugged. “I suppose you would think that.”
She tapped the butt of her pistol. “I shot you. In the forehead.”
“Yes, it was very impressive.” Ilana tilted her head. “But I got better.”
“Magic?” the Bride asked. “Or has the necro-technology in Pokolistan advanced with the teams?”
“That would be telling.” Ilana graced her with, the Bride had to admit, a well-deserved smirk.
“So, what,” the Bride said, “you’re here for revenge?”
“I’m here to make you an offer,” Ilana said. She gestured to one of her guards, who lowered his weapon and dug a gadget from his pocket. She took it, tapped a few buttons.
The Bride felt a haptic thunk somewhere at the base of her skull. “Did you just--"
Ilana turned on her heel, looked over her shoulder. “Coming?”
iv. your ghosts, your heart and its weary stories
The private airfield was populated by two vehicles: A cargo plane and a private jet. Two of the guards peeled off to towards the cargo plane, while the remaining one preceded Ilana to the jet. He was holding the nano-bomb detonator.
The Bride narrowed her eyes as he disappeared into the cockpit. When turned back to the princess, Ilana was shedding her tactical vest to reveal a sleeveless embroidered tunic, cut low to showcase the pendant hanging beneath her breasts.
“Please,” Ilana said as she slid into a cushioned seat, “join me.”
The Bride heard the whine of the jet engine spinning up. She took the seat facing Ilana, spreading her legs wide to emphasize how very little she took this seriously. Ilana’s eyes tracked from the arch of her thigh to the tilt of her shoulder as she leaned forward. “Some people would negotiate before being trapped alone with me,” the Bride pointed out.
“I have nothing to fear,” Ilana said. She bit her lip, more calculated than coy. “Are you not a loyal subject of Pokolistan?”
The Bride propped her elbows on her knees, steepled her fingers. “Are you expecting me to kneel?”
Ilana leaned forward, mirroring the Bride. “In time.” Her pendant shifted.
The Bride considered catching it, saw Ilana notice. “You killed Nina,” she reminded her.
Ilana frowned. “Nina was the--"
“Careful,” the Bride warned.
“Of course,” Ilana said. She thought a moment. “She was going to kill me.”
“Of course,” the Bride said. “That’s the business we’re in.” She did reach out then, catching the chain of Ilana’s necklace in one finger. She twisted it, just a bit, enough to threaten.
Ilana’s smile wasn’t quite an apology. “If you think that will work,” she murmured, eyebrow arching up. Her breath was warm; the Bride realized they’d come within biting distance of each other.
Ilana’s gaze fluttered down to the Bride’s lips, then up again. “You haven’t heard my offer yet.”
“You presume I’m ready to hear it.” The Bride released the pendant, trailed her fingers over at Ilana’s neckline, then slipped her hand in, reveling in the gasp elicited. She pulled back just as she gently tugged so that Ilana’s left tit spilled out of the bodice. “Like a rake in a bloody historical romance,” the Bride chuckled before dipping her head and trailing her tongue not exactly where Ilana wanted it.
Ilana’s next breath was a sharp Bozhe, and her hand snaked up to clutch the back of the Bride’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” the Bride said, teeth light against heaving skin, “you were going to make an offer?”
Ilana cursed again. Her free hand slid up the Bride’s thigh, pressed, then circled when the Bride’s hips bucked. “Like that?” she asked.
The Bride grasped Ilana’s hand and brought it to the buckle of her trousers. “Do better,” she challenged.
Ilana narrowed her eyes, and did.
v. the water level rises and rises
The Bride looked out the jet window at some forest in Kasnia. They’d landed forty minutes ago; the cargo plan shortly after that. In the cockpit, the pilot and the guard were conferring with, the Bride assumed, their eventual escort to the capital.
She tugged her corset back into place again, thinking this was an incredibly bad idea. “You realize this plan is doomed, right?”
A squeak of white noise, then the pilot announced their descent.
Ilana emerged from the rear of the jet clad in a sleek red gown. “That’s why I brought you.” The Bride noticed the darkening mark low on Ilana’s throat and hid her smile. “In case diplomacy fails.”
“Diplomacy?” The Bride scoffed. “There are prophecies about your definition of diplomacy, Princess.”
Ilana sniffed. “I’m not the only villain here, lyubima.”
The Bride rolled her eyes. “I’m not the only corpse here, mila.” She unholstered her pistol, spun it, and holstered it again. “Now are we going or not?