or a stretch of shattered slate ahead. Tavin took an experimental step into the slide. A rock slid free and set off a small cascade. He looked over his shoulder. Fie followed his look and saw no Vultures, but that meant naught to her.
“The ravine won’t give us away,” she said.
“This is faster,” Tavin said shortly. “We just have to cross before they notice.”
“Fine.” The prince strode into the slide, not looking back.
Fie followed, uneasy. The rocks slipped and rolled beneath her feet as she struggled to keep up, keep her balance, keep the harmony. Wave after wave of broken stone tumbled down the hill in their wake. Even if the Vultures couldn’t break through her triad of Sparrow teeth, this spectacle all but begged to betray them.
Pa’s broken sword banged at one hip, the bag of teeth swinging at the other.
You have to keep the oath, Fie.
Halfway across the shattered stones, the prince fell.
It all happened faster than Fie thought possible:
In one heartbeat, Jasimir teetered ahead of her.
In the next, he’d slid yards away, rolling in a tangle of slate and rag.
He skidded to a halt and staggered to his feet, bedraggled but whole. Below him, the ripple of falling rock grew, and grew, until stones the size of Fie’s head toppled down the hill in a cracking cacophony.
Then a mournful hunting horn swelled above the falling rock, sweeping from the valley at their backs.
The Vultures had found them.
“Get to the ravine!” Fie bolted down the hill, half sliding as the footing buckled and shifted. The roar of blood and adrenaline clashed in her ears with the clatter of plummeting rock. Then they slowed and stopped at the edge of the gorge, and she realized half the noise came from hoofbeats upon hoofbeats.
They hurried toward a steep game track winding into the canyon but had made it just a few paces when Tavin yanked both Fie and Jasimir to a stop. Not a half league downhill, riders cantered into the gorge’s mouth.
“Bridge,” Jasimir gasped, pointing to a rope bridge farther down, spanning the narrowest neck of the gap. “If they don’t notice us cross—”
“Done.” Tavin turned on a heel. Fie cursed the dead god who’d invented hills, legs burning as pure adrenaline carried her back up the game track. Something coppery stained each agonizing breath. They reached the bridge a minute later, squinting down the canyon. Riders thundered toward them, just a quarter league and a few bends of the canyon walls away.
Fie lurched toward the bridge. Tavin caught at her arm.
“Wait.” He touched two fingers to her lips. They came away bright with crimson. “Fie. You’re—you have to let the teeth go.”
“They’ll find us,” she gasped, mountain and sky spinning in her sights.
“They’ll absolutely find us if you’re dead.” His hands wrapped around her shoulders. “Let them go.”
“But—” Jasimir’s eyes locked on the Vulture riders.
Look after your own. She shook her head. Not Misgova. Not again. She was a chief.
“Let them go.” Tavin’s hold on her tightened.
Her vision blurred before she could muster a retort. Only adrenaline had kept her moving this long, she kenned it as well as he did. One moment of fraying focus was all it took.
Fie buckled.
A tooth slipped away, then a second, and the third.
“Bridge. Now.” Tavin waved the prince on, then guided Fie onto the swaying planks, one hand braced on her spine.
Another hunting horn howled down the stone.
The canyon floor heaved below, not even thrice a man’s height away. Fie near vomited.
“Hang on.” Tavin’s fingertips pressed in a steady half-moon between her shoulders. “Just have to get over the bridge.”
Jasimir looked back. “We can’t outrun them. Not like this.”
“Keep going,” Tavin barked.
A horse’s scream ripped down through the gorge.
Fie tried to train her eyes on the end of the bridge, on one fixed point. Make it off the bridge. Keep on your feet. Keep going.
The hoofbeats rose like a tide.
“We won’t make it,” the prince called. “Maybe we can negotiate—”
“They negotiate using arrows, Jas. Keep going.”
“We’ve already lost!” Jasimir stopped and spun around, a few planks from the end of the bridge. “It’s over. She’s too weak—”
“Fie,” she interrupted, hoarse.
“What?”
“You know my name.” She spat blood into the canyon below. “If I’m about to die for you, you can damn well use it.”
Jasimir looked from her to Tavin and took a deep breath. “They … they aren’t after you. If I give myself up, the two of you can escape.”
Wind and hoofbeats and hunting horns crashed around the rock walls.