followed.” He pried a tooth from his string and tossed it aside. Fie couldn’t believe he’d burned a whole Sparrow tooth without her catching on. “Pair of the queen’s trackers. They tailed us to the bridge and no farther.”
“Cur.”
The prince, the Hawk, and Pa all looked up. Wretch’s mask was off as well. Fie knew when she called Pa “Cur,” they were in for a spectacle.
“I see you’re busy ministering to the needs of the royal louts here,” she cooed, voice rising, “but I don’t suppose if, perchance, when it suits your fancy, you might share with your kin what nonsense, suicidal, scum-brained scheme you’ve just dragged us into?”
The Hawk bodyguard moved first, striding toward Wretch. “Of course, I apologize. We’ve been quite inconsiderate.” He tapped his right fist to his lips and held it out in greeting. Wretch, taken aback, did the same, and they clasped hands briefly. “My name is Tavin. I’m sure you’ve figured out who my friend is.”
“We’ve a notion,” Hangdog drawled, leaning on the cart. There was a nasty edge in his voice, the kind he got when he hungered for a fight. “Got bored of your palace, cousins?”
The prince’s face darkened at the slantways insult. Before he could bite back, his Hawk guard flicked his hand, dismissive. “I don’t typically commit wide-scale blasphemy out of boredom. Repeat assassination attempts tend to motivate a man, though.”
Wretch scowled. “If someone doesn’t start talking sense, I’m getting as far clear of here as possible.”
“Then I’ll rephrase,” the Hawk said. “Rhusana wants us dead.”
“She wants me dead,” Prince Jasimir corrected. “She’s wanted it since she used Father to marry up into the Phoenixes, and she wants it even more now that she’s birthed a prince of her own. First it was just a hunting accident, then a viper in the bathhouse, then ground glass in the wine … and it won’t stop until she’s gone. Or I am.”
Wretch flung her arm at the road. “Well done, then! You’ve given her square what she wants. So now that we’ve dragged you to freedom, we’ll be taking our leave, aye?”
The Hawk—Tavin, he’d said he was Tavin—didn’t answer, instead holding out a hand to Fie. “I’m sorry for scaring you, by the way.”
She let him pull her back to her feet before yanking free. “Well, I’m not sorry for punching you.”
“That’s probably not the last time you’ll say that.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Jas and I need to tag along with you for a few days.”
Pa stiffened, crossing his arms. “That wasn’t our deal.”
Tavin and the prince traded looks. Tavin’s mouth twisted. “It’s complicated,” he began.
“It’s not. I kept my word. Our business is done.” Pa’s tone had turned a chill sort of civil. Fie snorted. Typical high castes, thinking they could twist the terms of a deal as they pleased. They’d picked the wrong Crow chief for that.
“You don’t understand.” Prince Jasimir’s voice rose. “We’re—”
“Out of Dumosa,” Pa answered, even and immovable. “And we have our viatik. That was the deal. No more, no less.”
The Hawk guard scowled. “You have to hear us out.”
Fie contemplated punching him again.
“This isn’t your palace, lads.” Pa bent to pick up a drag-rope. “We don’t have to do aught.”
“They’re going to try to kill you,” Prince Jasimir said, abrupt.
A moment’s hush dropped, then ruptured in laughter. Madcap wheezed so hard, they had to lean on the cart. Both the prince and the Hawk looked taken aback.
“Oh, they’ll try to kill us?” Wretch cackled. “That’s new. That’s bold. Oh, I like that.”
Prince Jasimir’s brow furrowed. “How could you possibly find that amusing?”
“They’ve been trying to kill us. There’s always some ‘they.’ Reckon they’ve been at it a few centuries now.” Fie swept him the same mocking bow she’d given Queen Rhusana. “My deepest of sorrows, Your Highness, but if you mean to frighten us into helping you, you’ll have to think bigger.”
“Are the Oleander Gentry big enough?”
Fie snapped up straight to stare at Tavin as the laughter died. The Oleander Gentry were more than a “they.” The Oleander Gentry were a fist to the windpipe of every Crow.
“It’s a funny story, you see,” the Hawk guard continued, the sudden razor edge in his words suggesting it was anything but a jest. “Turns out the queen’s been making lots of new and horrible friends. Right now I’d give it a month before she tries to take the throne for herself. And when she does, she’ll owe most of her success to her greatest allies: