The pot fell. She didn’t answer.
Even if they didn’t catch the fading Peacock glamour, sooner or later, one of the skinwitches would spot the scar tangling about Tavin’s wrist, a burn that a fireproof Phoenix prince would never have. Fie just prayed they caught on while they still had use for hostages.
“He’s not dead,” Jasimir repeated, angry.
Fie just pulled a spare cloak out of the pack, winding it around her shaking fist. Her silence only seemed to stoke his anger.
“He only gave himself up so you could get away,” Jasimir railed on. “He did this foryou.And you didn’t even—you won’t even go after him. You don’t care.”
Fie bit her tongue hard, hard enough to taste blood. Then she looked at the modest heap of Tavin’s supplies and decided she’d carry them on her own after all. Anything to leave this damned canyon faster.
“You could have saved him. You have every Phoenix tooth in Sabor. Why didn’t you do anything? You just let them—”
Finally Fie picked up Tavin’s sword and stood.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jasimir demanded, scrambling to his feet.
“We have to leave,” she croaked.
“Twelve hells we do!” Jasimir’s voice cracked. “We’re getting him back.”
“Shut your mouth.” She needed him to stop talking about Tavin. She needed to cut her losses and move on, move out before anything else fouled up.
“You didnothing, it’s your fault—”
She spun around. “Aye, to be sure it’s all my fault, it’s not like you kept harping onHawksanddutyand howhehad to keep you alive—”
“You didn’t stop him, you let him go—” Jasimir sputtered back.
“—and it’s my fault your rat-heart cousin turned on us in Cheparok, and I’m sure it’s my fault your rotten pappy let the Oleanders grow strong enough to sway a queen, aye—”
“Don’t talk about politics you don’t understand—”
“—and of course, when this all goes guts-up because no one in their right mind will buy thatyouhave a drop of Ambra in you, that’ll be my fault, too, aye?”
“How much more will you let them take from you?” The prince’s hands balled into fists. “They have your father, they have your family, and now they have Tavin. Whatelseare you going to give up?”
Fie turned, half to get moving, half because her lip quivered. “We have to keep the oa—”
“Fuckthe oath!” Jasimir shoved her from behind. The sword tumbled from her grip and clattered to the earth.
Fie stood a moment, breathing hard. Then she collected the sword and turned, slow, to face Jasimir. His chin jutted out, eyes burning in the bloody dusk.
“Say that again,” she rasped.
He glared dead at her, tears cutting fresh lines down his face. “Fuck. The. Oath.”
The iron in her spine yielded to murderous fire.
A curious thing happened then: the crown prince of Sabor looked at Fie, and for the first time, fear crept into his eyes.
Perhaps it was the sword that she had and he didn’t. Perhaps it was the memory of what she’d done to Viimo and the knowledge that more Hawk teeth waited in the bag at Fie’s side.
Perhaps it was the fact that to most of the nation, he was good as dead.
For the first time, both of them kenned he was wholly at her mercy.
Fie cocked her head, eyes glittering sharp. Some part of her had been ready for this from the moment he tried to duck cutting the oath. He could spout his high-minded hogwash all he wanted, but she’d waited for what happened when it stopped being easy to keep his word. And here they were.
