The Merciful Crow - Margaret Owen Page 0,126

stood. “Yes, chief.”

* * *

Fie woke in the soft half shadows before dawn, still curled against Tavin, still marveling that he was there.

And, by the creeping morning light, she allowed herself to untie the most painful knot in her head and heart, made all the worse by the boy at her back.

He shifted, mumbling her name in his sleep, and that undid her entirely. She eased herself from the bed, pulled a robe over the shirt she’d stolen from him, and glided into the hall. The Hawks at guard just nodded as she passed.

This time she caught the familiar watch-hymn sooner and followed it up to the wall that Draga seemed to favor. The master-general stood there wrapped in a thick snow lion pelt, eyes on the west.

“Tavin hummed that at watch,” Fie said. Draga’s gaze flicked to her, then returned to the horizon. “That’s how I figured out you were his ma.”

Draga barked a quiet laugh. “He’s right. It’s truly impossible to slip anything past you. Here.”

She drew a dagger from her sash and handed it to Fie hilt-first. The moonlight drew out waving bands across the blade.

“That’s tiger steel,” Draga said. “It’s stronger than any other metal we know. This blade outlived my mother and her mother, and it will outlive me. But it takes a master blacksmith to forge.”

“Aye.” Fie passed it back. “I saw it once in a Hawk tooth. Rush, and it shatters.” She leaned against the wall. “But leave the blade too long, and it’s rutted all the same.”

“I thought it would be like tiger steel,” Draga said. “The oath. Because you’re right, no Saborian should live as the Crows do. And if we forge something better, the nation will be stronger for it. But if we move too fast…” She sighed. “The fact is, we’re already shattering. How we treat Crows is a liability. The queen’s using it to net herself a throne. And you, a teenage girl, used it to fool the master-general of the kingdom’s armies.”

“No hard feelings,” Fie said with a shrug.

Draga shot her a sharp look. “It’s been a long day and night, Lady Crow. Don’t try me. Especially while wearing my beloved son’s shirt.” Fie coughed, ears burning, and Draga continued. “I’ve had war scholars digging through our libraries for anything on skin-ghasts. We’ve found nothing. There’s no knowing how great a threat we’re facing, but we know the queen means to wipe out people the Hawks are honor-bound to protect.”

Fie took a gamble. “Because no one’s protected us.”

“Because we failed.” Draga nodded, jaw set.

“Pa says change always has a price.” Fie stared at dawn’s edge in the eastern sky. “That even Phoenixes need ashes to rise.”

A moment passed before Draga spoke. “A few hours ago, Corporal Lakima came to my office with five other Hawks. They’ve volunteered to accompany you when you leave.”

Fie blinked.

“Other command posts have sent in reports of the skin-ghasts. I’m going to order them to increase patrols by night. I’m also going to relay that the Crows are being targeted and require them to report any Crow casualties immediately.” Draga turned about to face the east, same as Fie. “It’s not perfect. There are a thousand ways it’ll be fouled up. But it’s a way to flush out the Hawks who are part of the problem, so that once Rhusana is handled … we can keep the oath.”

Fie’s fingers dug into stone. “You’ll—you’ll give us Hawks?”

“Save your victory dance,” drawled Draga. “First I have to parade that boy all the way back to the royal palace with enough bells, flags, and armed soldiers to really say, ‘Auntie Draga loves you.’ Then we have to win over the king and sort out a gods-awful horror of logistics and recruit volunteers and then…” Draga rubbed a hand over her face. “Then, yes. You will have Hawks.”

Fie couldn’t breathe.

You will have Hawks.

She’d done it. She’d made the oath. She’d kept it.

For her ma, for Pa, for Wretch, even for Hangdog—she’d kept the oath.

“I … apologize,” Draga said stiffly. “You should have had us sooner.” She slid Fie another look. “You’ve already figured out the catch, haven’t you?”

Fie nodded, throat tightening once more.

“Then I’m sorry for that, too.” Draga’s face softened. “He’ll be waking up any moment now. I believe you have a better use for your time.”

Fie mimicked the Hawk salute, much to Draga’s ire, and returned to her room. Tavin rolled onto his back when the door shut, drowsy and smiling as he reached out

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