Roa hesitated, wanting to defend Safire.
But Safire could take care of herself. She stared Rebekah down as she said, “What’s the use in being good at a game I have no interest in playing?”
With everyone focused on the storm brewing between the hostess and the commandant, Roa saw her chance and took it. She slipped on her mask. Dressed in an unremarkable kaftan and without a white hawk on her shoulder, the queen went unidentified as she ducked out of the room.
Unrelinquished
It was several days after the Relinquishing when the brokenhearted girl started noticing the bird.
It was a plain desert hawk, with sandy feathers and brown eyes, and it was there in the window every morning when she woke.
It liked to watch the girl and often flew from window to window, depending on which room she was in. It perched on rooftops when she helped in the fields or dueled with her weaponry tutors in the gardens. And if she rode with her parents to one of the other Great Houses, the hawk was there, soaring through the sky above.
Following her.
The girl might have been alarmed if its presence weren’t so comforting. Or perhaps that’s why she should have been alarmed: because of the hum. It seemed to glow warmest and brightest whenever the hawk was near.
No,she thought.It can’t be.
One night, after everyone had gone to sleep, the girl opened the windows and beckoned it in. The bird swooped to her bedside table, perching atop the lantern there. Its claws grappled with the iron handle, trying to keep a steady hold. As if it wasn’t used to the weight and shape of its own body.
The girl sank down on the bed beside it, studying the beautiful arch of its throat. The sheen of its feathers. The sharpness of its claws.
It was when their eyes met that a too-familiar voice flooded her mind:
Hello, sister.
The girl reeled from the shock of her sister’s voice in her head.
“You didn’t cross,” said the girl, studying the bird’s feathers.
And leave you all alone?Her sister’s voice rang through her mind.How could I?
The girl thought she might be going mad.
But it wasn’t madness. It was true: her sister’s soul had come back to her.
Seventeen
Just like in the dining hall, the corridor ceilings were high, rivaling those of the palace. Tall arched windows let the evening breeze blow through, making Roa shiver.
The mosaicked tiles clicked beneath her feet as Roa ripped off her mask, tossing it to the floor. Stuffed animal heads lined the hall here; some Roa recognized—a lion, a deer—while others she didn’t—a striped horse, a huge fish with a spiraled horn protruding from its head.
Someone in this household obviously liked to hunt.
Her gaze quickly scanned the doors. A message from Theo had arrived that morning. The knife was in Silva’s private collection, he’d written, behind a scarlet door.
Just as Roa turned the corner, Lirabel’s voice called out.
“Where are you going?”
Roa squeezed her eyes shut, then turned to face her friend, who was already advancing.
Essie rode on her shoulder, cocking her elegant white head as if to sayDon’t look at me. This was her idea.
“Couldn’t you stay with Dax?” Roa pressed her palms to her eyes. “Like you usually do?”
Lirabel halted, her forehead pinching. “What is that supposed to mean?”
