Fie swung the pack down and settled beside it. “Food, cooking gear—Pa’s got the rest of it in his pack—”
“I’ll have the teeth.” Little Witness pointed to the bag fastened at Fie’s belt.
Her heart skipped a beat. She had a sudden horrid hunch wherethis was going, but she undid the bag’s straps anyway, fingers shaking. It was a beautiful work of stamped leather, with pockets and compartments inside to help her order her teeth instead of having to fish around pouch within pouch. Tavin had gifted it to her before she left Trikovoi, with a particular charm stitched into one hidden corner: a milk tooth of his own. His mother had kept them.
In Fie’s darkest moments, when she doubted she’d ever see him again, she’d reach for that tooth and the spark still burning within, and know she could yet find her Hawk.
“Not that one,” Little Witness said as Fie’s fingertips strayed to that tooth now. She pointed to the largest compartment, where the Phoenix teeth were stored. “Those.”
Fie couldn’t hide a flinch.
“What’s the matter?” Little Witness asked. “You’re not using them.”
A thousand refusals howled in Fie’s ears.They keep us safe. They make us feared. I earned them.
I need them.
Little Witness’s cockeyed smile said she knew square what she asked for. And that only vexed Fie more.
“H-how many?” she gritted, unfastening the compartment.
“How many can you spare?” Little Witness returned. “You’ve two swords, six Hawks, thousands of fire teeth. How much is enough for you?”
Fie went still.
The dead god leaned forward, her eyes too knowing for her child face. “Truth is, you always like your fire too much. You claimed every Phoenix tooth in the land. Did that fix your problems? You took a Hawk’s steel. Was that enough? You cut an oath from a prince, one to change all Sabor. Do you feel safe?”
Wind whistled through the tower. Fie clutched her bag tighter andmet Little Witness’s gaze with her own. “No Crow is safe with Rhusana climbing the throne.”
“But it’s not just Rhusana, is it?” Little Witness asked.
Something in Fie’s gut rankled at that, and in the back of her skull, a dead Peacock girl whispered,The Covenant madeyouas a punishment.
“When the prince is on his throne, will you let your fire teeth go then?” Little Witness pressed. “Will that be enough?”
“You know it won’t,” Fie snapped before she could rein herself back in. “Aye, it’s not just Rhusana, it’s the people who ride for her. The ones who know she’ll let them. It’s everyone who thinks Crows are naught but sinners to abuse as they please. And why shouldn’t they? You’re the one who can remember clear back to the dawn of days, soyoutellmenow: Why did the gods make us like this? Why don’t Crows have a Birthright?”
Little Witness leaned back, eyes narrowing, as smug as Barf with a mouse in her claws.
“And who said you didn’t?” she asked.
For a terrible moment, Fie knew sore how that mouse felt.
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
“It eats at you every time,” Little Witness said, almost sad. “You think wanting more makes you less, when you just want what was stolen. You’re right! Rhusana isn’t the whole of your problem. She’s just the newest thief on the throne.”
Fie stared at her. “Stop. Forget Rhusana. We had a Birthright?”
Little Witness wagged a finger at her. “Forget Rhusana and you’ll just die again, and you’ll never make it here in time in your next life.”
“Enough.” Fie didn’t know if her heart pounded with fury or wonder, but she knew which ruled her now. “The rest of Sabor thinks we have naught to offer but cutting sinners’ throats. And you’re telling me you knew we had a Birthright this whole damn time?”
“You can’t—”
“Crows havediedwhile you sat in your tower!” Fie lurched to her feet, Phoenix teeth rattling across the basalt floor. Her very breath came bitter with memories of every pyre she’d lit for her kin, starting with her own mother. “And you couldn’t be bothered to, oh,tell anyonewe had a Birthright until now?”
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
