Barf returned after dinner, smugly sauntering into their roadside camp with tail aloft as Fie unrolled her woven-grass sleeping mat a safe distance from the fire. It was early yet, but Fie’d needed the rest ever since waking up in Maykala’s shrine. The others rolled gambling shells, mended masks, pounded fresh nails through their sandals’ soles; all of them kept one eye on the flatway as dark fell. Barf herself just jumped back into the wagon hold and curled up among their sacks of millet and rice.
The prince hunched by the campfire, curling flame round his fingers, until Swain sat to his side. “Would His Highness like to see the rarest scroll in the kingdom? You’ll not find its like anywhere, not even in His Majesty’s own library.”
Jasimir’s brows rose.
Fie settled down on her mat. Swain had worked at his scroll long as she could remember, setting down all the songs and tales Crows carried in their heads. She’d never been able to read a single letter, but she supposed it mattered to him.
When Fie’s eyes at last drifted shut, Swain’s and Jasimir’s heads still bowed over the scroll, intently conversing by the fire.
Then Fie’s dreams dragged her from the dark of empty sleep, fast and vicious and red.
She held Hangdog’s hand in front of a pyre in broad day.
It was no pyre; it was the village they’d left behind, and it burned with phoenix-gold fire.
She’d wanted to burn it to the ground. No, she’d wanted them to know that she could.
Teeth spilled from her open palm, bloody and new, bursting into flame as they fell.
We need this deal, Pa said, nowhere to be seen.
The village changed: Now she saw a vale far to the north, burning end-to-end, all a massive black plague beacon. Screams for mercy filled the air.
No one answered, Pa said, shaking his head, much too close to the fire. And now we all will.
It was not Hangdog at her side; it was Tavin’s hand in hers, and he took her measure once again.
She yanked free—
“Fie.”
She woke to a sea of flames.
The campfire. It was naught but the campfire. Fie tried to catch her breath.
“Fie, get up.”
That was the Chief voice.
“Pa?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes. It was too dark yet to pack out.
The prince rolled to his knees, drowsy and scowling. Hangdog stood frozen nearby.
Then the answer came with the faint rumble in the earth beneath her thin pallet. Her own gut frosted over.
They never should have taken the sinners’ teeth.
“Get the prince and grab what you can.” Pa was a blur in the night, rushing from one Crow to the next, then dragging the prince to his feet. The rumble only grew. “Up, Highness. The Oleander Gentry are coming.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE CAT AND THE KING
The prince was barefoot.
In her sixteen years, Fie had learned many a hard lesson when it hit her right in the teeth: Always watch the crowd. Always know your way out. Never go into town alone.
And on the nights you burn sinners, sleep with your sandals on.
Jasimir’s toes slipped on a mossy tree trunk as Fie struggled to hoist him to the nearest branch, choking down a frustrated scream. Thunderous hoofbeats welled in the ground beneath them; Crows darted about camp, scrambling to cover their tracks. Though the prince’s heel was braced on Fie’s shoulder, his hands shook too bad to find purchase on vine or bark. But Pa had said to get the prince out of sight—she had to get them clear—
Tavin pulled the prince from the trunk. “Fie, you go first—pull him up—”
Up. The word was a shackle breaking.
Nails in her sandal soles chewed through bark and moss as up she went, easy as walking a stair. The strap of her loose mask cut into the flesh at her throat, the heavy beak banging against her spine. From the corner of her eye she saw other Crows scaling the trees as well. Wretch had strapped the rolled-up pallets to her back. Swain bore their meager stash of maps and scrolls, the cooking pot bouncing at his side.
She didn’t see Hangdog at all.
Up. If she lost the prince, she lost the oath.
Fie crawled onto the first branch. She whipped her robe over her head, twisted it into a rope, then looped it where branch married trunk. The prince seized a handful of crowsilk and began to climb.
“Fie!” Pa stood below. He threw a tooth up to her, then dashed away once she’d caught it.