Though since they’d acquired Phoenix teeth, perhaps that would all change. Even now, Fie seemed about to put out a hearty campfire, a trick he hadn’t mastered until he’d practiced his firecraft for a few years.
“It’s not working,” Jas whispered, and Tavin swore silently, knowing that had to have shattered the girl’s focus.
Sure enough, the fire roared with glee as Fie hissed. She drew a sharp breath, no doubt trying once more. Tavin debated a moment; she was too clever by far, and if she noticed someone else’s hand in putting the fire out—
Hoofbeats said they’d both be distracted soon. He didn’t have a choice.
The fire called to an ugly part of him, one that knew what it wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it. He breathed it in a moment, that need to ignite and devour, then exhaled, just as a Phoenix priest had secretly taught him, banishing the hunger and the flame.
The campfire went out.
He glanced sidelong at Fie. She didn’t seem to have noticed a thing, fumbling for that Sparrow witch-tooth again.
There was something in the way her brow furrowed that called to that hunger in him, hooked in his ribs like the point of a spear—
Fie dropped the memory like a hot coal, yanking her thoughts from the teeth before they could show her anything worse.
She had what she needed.
Just then, the silk crowns began to smoke.
Both the fires were real, little tongues of flame licking up the outside of the silks. Rhusana was sweating. Fie inhaled swift, feeling the fires call to the ugly part of her, the one that wanted to burn this hall down with them all inside, burn Sabor from mountain to coast, just to make them all reckon with a Crow for a conqueror.
And then—she cast it from her, breath and fire and rage.
The silk crowns snuffed out.
A gasp swept the crowd.
From where Fie stood, she had a truly perfect view of Rhusana’s face as it shifted through first bewilderment, then anger, then accusation. The faintest of snarls bared her teeth as she shot Tavina furious glare. He shook his head ever so slightly, as if to say,This isn’t me.
Rhusana kept staring at him. Tavin swallowed and closed his eyes, and a moment later, the silk crowns ignited again.
There were many, many things Fie could not forgive Tavin for. Something aboutthat, though, something about him still trying to light the damn crowns, still trying to makethatwork when he’d been so ready to give up on her and Jasimir—
That was something no chief would abide.
Initially, Fie had thought to just blow out the crowns, again and again, until the ceremony was called off. But Tavin’s own tooth had barely been tapped of its power, especially here on the Phoenix graves. It practically begged for her to put it to use.
And she’d made her plan back before Tavin himself had shown her the truth: in the end, she was one more thing to burn for a crown of gold.
Khoda had said the difference between a thief and a conqueror was an army. Tonight, it would be just a tooth.
Fie took another breath, letting memory and bone guide her, and this time she tasted it: every fire in the room, from lamp and torch and blazing column, simmering on her tongue. When she exhaled, it was a decree of exile.
Out, she told the lamps, and all along the walls, they obeyed.
Quiet, she told the crowns, and they fell silent, bleeding smoke.
Go, she commanded to every last towering column, to the fires within that carved dead Phoenix monarchs from the black iron.
One by one they went dark, plunging the Hall of the Dawn into unbroken night.
Fie caught muffled yelps of alarm, the rustle of fabric and clanging of jewelry, and allowed herself a vicious grin. Then she stuffedit below a mask of dismay and called on the Phoenix Birthright once more.
The Hall of the Dawn fell silent as fire bloomed into uneven letters over the dais, each nigh tall as Tavin.
MURDERER
