“These are really quite good,” Tavin said, passing Fie a mushroom cap. “Here, try it. That’s all,” he added to Jasimir.
The true prince bowed once more, fingers tightening on the tray. Then his face dropped, eyes widening. He didn’t remember to change his voice as he shouted, “Look out—!”
Fie whirled in time to see Lord Dengor, deep in conversation with a terribly bored woman, walk right into Khoda’s back. Khoda stumbled, a pitcher of wine flying from his grasp.
It shattered at Rhusana’s feet. Red drenched the bottom of her lily-white satin skirts.
The Midnight Pavilion went silent.
Rhusana looked down at her skirts. Then she looked up at Khoda.Even if he’d wanted to pin it on anyone else, scarlet wine had splashed all over his own uniform, ruining even the cloth-of-gold sash. He dropped to his knees, staring at the ground.
The queen cocked her head and somehow made it look like brandishing a dagger. “Manservant,” she said thinly. “How old are you?”
“This unworthy one is forty-three, Your Majesty,” he said, for Fie had given him an older man’s face tonight.
“And how much do we pay you per year?”
Khoda’s mouth twisted. Fie had to give him his due as he paused: even facing down a queen, he kept his guise up, working out the figures like a Sparrow servant who rarely dealt with great sums of coin. “About a thousand naka, Your Majesty.”
Rhusana glided over to him, just the way Niemi had showed Fie, her pet tiger shambling in her wake. She lifted his chin with the tip of one of her silver claws.
“So what you’re telling me,” she said sweetly, “is that you could work in the palace for the rest of yourwretched”—she backhanded him across the face, leaving red gashes over a cheekbone—“useless”—another slap, another set of scratches to match—“life and still not make up for what you’ve just done to me.”
Fie heard a faint scuff. A mushroom cap rolled off Jasimir’s shaking tray. Fie glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw the faintest bit of smoke coming from where he gripped the silver.
Tavin had frozen beside her, eyes locked on Khoda and the queen, but Fie didn’t want to count on that holding up. Slowly, she shifted her weight, then tapped Jasimir’s foot with her own. Jasimir blinked. The smoke went out.
“Let’s think of another way you can pay.” Rhusana tapped her lips. “What about an arm? Or an eye? Which would you rather pay?”
Fie heard Tavin’s sharp breath.
Khoda’s face went gray. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Please, Your Majesty—”
Rhusana raised her hand again, the rings and claws tipping her fingers now speckled red. Khoda flinched. “Are you notsorry, manservant?”
“I—this unworthy one is sorry, Your Majesty, so sorry—”
“Thenshow mehow sorry you are,” she cooed. The queen yanked her tiger’s chain. The great beast lumbered closer, sniffing. “Make your choice, or Ambra here will be happy to make it for you. An arm or an eye?”
The tiger nosed Khoda’s bloody face. A heavy pink tongue lolled out and lapped at the scratches.
No one moved. Not even Tavin.
There were Phoenix teeth on her string, Fie knew, and there was steel in the blade beneath her skirt, and Jasimir could call fire down, but there were Hawks all around them, and it was a long way to the palace walls.
She didn’t know if she could stop this. Not without giving up everything they’d worked for here—not without giving up her chance of stopping Rhusana.
Here she was, garbed in all the power of a dead aristocrat, on the arm of a prince, and she couldn’t even save one servant.
What good wasanyof this?
“Choose,” Rhusana ordered in a singsong voice, eyes dancing. She curled her fist. The tiger shuddered, its tail lashing faster. Its whiskers flicked back in a snarl.
“Your Majesty, if I may…” The woman Dengor had been nattering at stepped forward and spread her hands in apology. “I’m afraid this was all an accident, my brother wasn’t looking and—”
Rhusana’s nostrils flared. Her tiger lurched forward, swiping a massive paw. It caught the gray-haired older woman across the arm andthigh. Her scream rebounded through the assembled Peacocks, but no one moved. She crumpled to the ground. The beast’s jaws closed on her wrist.
The queen dragged at her tiger’s chain again, and it let go with a muffled roar, shaking its head. A hand fell out of its jaws, only to be snapped up again. Droplets of blood flecked its fur and Rhusana’s skirts alike. The woman below her moaned, sobbing but still alive, clutching the stump where her hand had been. Blood bloomed all across her side. Not even Lord Dengor stirred to help her.
