“Is there just the one reason, or did you draw up a list?” A good parry. He meant to paint her as shrewish, petty.
And Fie meant to remind her Crows who he really was. “We don’t even know who you are. Or who might be looking for you. You never told us your whole name.”
He shrugged. “Is that all?”
The look the prince gave her could have kindled her own funeral pyre. “Tav, you don’t have to—”
“It’s fine,” Tavin said, but that warning line in his brow was back. Fie had hit the nerve she’d dug for. “My full name is Taverin sza Markahn. Does that answer your question?”
It did.Szameant “son of.” A clan like the Markahns, high enough to whelp the crown prince, should have flaunted Tavin’s own parental pedigree in the name that followed. Instead, he only had the broad clan name.
Or, as Hangdog summed up: “So your pappy was good enough to rut a Markahn, but not good enough to give his name?”
“That’s no business of yours,” Jasimir snapped.
Tavin shrugged again. “No, that’s about right, and I’ll give my father your opinion if I find out who he is. But all things considered,my bastardry is probably the least of our problems.” He tried another patronizing smile on Fie. “Got anything else?”
Fie wondered how many times the lordlings would just wander direct into her traps. At this rate she could dance her way onto the throne herself.
“Oh, I was just curious about your name, Hawk boy.” Fie mimicked his shrug, then went for the throat. “I mainly don’t trust you because you like flashing your steel.”
“What?”
“You saw the only blade we have is broken. You didn’t need to pull your sword on Hangdog last night and you knew it. You just did it because you could.”
That rustled up hums of assent. He could cut his hair and mum at diplomacy, but when it mattered, he still acted the Hawk.
“So I’m not allowed to defend myself.”
“Pray, cousin,” Fie crooned, “when was the last time you pulled steel on the Splendid Castes?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the prince broke in. “Drawing a blade on the wrong noble could start a civil war.”
“Right. Best stick to Crows, then.”
Prince Jasimir scowled. “When they attack us—”
“She has a point.”
The prince’s head snapped around to stare at his guard.
Tavin’s mouth opened, then closed. He sighed. “So do you, Jas. Everyone’s right. Gods, I’m tired of talking about this.”
“Oh aye,you’retired,” Fie scoffed.
Tavin tipped his head back. “Yes. I’d much rather address the fact that we’ve been followed for the last quarter league.”
“Aye.” Pa didn’t turn about, but one hand rested on his string of teeth.
Fie swore a silent oath. She ought to have been minding her roads, not dancing about with the Hawk. She snuck a glance down the trail. Sure enough, three distant figures hovered at the road’s bend, just far back enough to haunt them unheard. Weak sunlight glinted off their hand-scythes.
“They won’t trouble us long as we still have the bodies,” Pa said. “And they’ll leave off once we hit the flatway, it’s too open.”
That was half the truth. Fie swallowed a sigh. Followers could be an omen of Oleanders. That meant the Crows had to drag the bodies double as far before making camp tonight, and hope the distance put off any Gentry.
“So you’ll allow them to trail us as long as they please?” Prince Jasimir asked.
“What’d you have us do, Highness?” Wretch scowled. “This is squarely why scummers like them don’t let Crows carry whole blades. They don’t chase fights they won’t win.”
