until it ground against her own knuckle-bone. “He’s … he’s still alive.”
The hush that followed ached near as much as Fie did.
“He swore an oath,” Tavin said at last.
It was Fie’s turn to stiffen. She turned a hard stare on the Hawk. “What,” she hissed, “does that mean?”
“I think you know what it means.”
Fie did. She was a Crow; she knew a Money Dance when she heard one.
Jasimir sat up. “Tav—”
Fie jerked her arm free. It started to bleed again. “If you think I’m going to leave my family with some monster—”
“Your father told me if anything happened to him—” Tavin began.
“You two happened to him.”
“So did your oath.”
Her heels dug into the earthen floor. “We said we’d get you two to Cheparok—”
“Your father swore a Covenant oath to get Jasimir to his allies, in this life or the next.” Frost slivered through Tavin’s voice. He wouldn’t look at her.
That only maddened her more. A Money Dance worked only when you knew your worth. When you knew what you were owed.
But they both knew what she owed him and his prince: nothing.
“We told her we—I had allies in Cheparok.” Jasimir broke his silence. “The Crows kept their end of the deal.”
“Really?” Tavin slashed a still-shaking hand at the moldering walls. “Does this look like the Floating Fortress to you, Jas? Did I miss you somehow mustering an army in the last ten minutes?”
The prince recoiled, cheeks darkening, but his jaw stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. They got us this far. I can’t ask for more.”
“We don’t have a choice.” The wire around Tavin’s words pulled taut. “The Oleander Gentry are about to own the throne. We all know how that ends.”
The prince had no answer for that.
Fie did. “Pull that ‘we’ out of your mouth. My kin got you to the allies you asked for. And your damned allies shot arrows through—” The words turned to gravel on her tongue.
Hangdog’s tooth stayed cold and quiet. Gone.
All of it was gone.
She had to get it back, she had to get them out, she had to get out—
“I’m sorry.” Jasimir’s hands tangled together, eyes scanning the dirt as if searching for words. “We … He said he’d take us in. I don’t know what happened, why … If I just had my fire, I could have—”
He meant it to be an apology. Something to pacify her. Instead, a snarling tiger in Fie roared free.
“I don’t give a damn,” she spat. “Those are my people, and I’m supposed to be their chief. And now I’m supposed to abandon my kin, I’m the one who has to save royals who haven’t lifted a finger to protect me or mine?” She tottered to her feet.
“Get scummed.” The ground swayed beneath her. She staggered toward the corridor anyway. “Both of you can get scummed.”
“Fie—”
“Look after your own,” she snarled. “And I’ll look after mine.”
Her hand closed around the bag of teeth.
Tavin’s hand closed around her good arm. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“I’m going to get my pa,” she shot back. “And I’m getting what’s left of my people. And I’m getting my damn cat. Let go before I make you.”
Tavin did, but only to slide past, planting himself between her and the way back.
“Move,” she snarled.
Tavin had that look on his face again, the one that left a thousand things unsaid. A hard edge cut through his voice. “None of us want this, Fie. Not for you, not for us. But Jas and I don’t have a chance against Rhusana without you. And neither do your people.”
Pain shot through Fie’s bloody hand as she snatched up Pa’s rag-swaddled sword and pointed the broken end at Tavin, loose threads trembling. “Don’t you dare. You brought my people into this. Don’t you dare.”
He didn’t stir, watching her. This time the look on his face said a solitary thing:
What do you want, Fie?
She knew full well how fast he could move. That if he wanted, Pa’s sword would be on the bricks and she’d be next to it. But he knew how many Phoenix teeth were in that bag. And if she wanted, she could light him ablaze, light this city ablaze, light Sabor ablaze from mountain to coast, all before she hit the ground.
Almost all of her wanted to. Wanted out, out of this city, out of the deal, out of the oath she’d danced her way into.