the plague. We just need to be patient.”
“And how long is patient?” Fie found her voice again, now on familiar ground. “How much of the country’s burning plague beacons right now?” From Draga’s flinch, she knew the answer was too much. “Every day it’ll get worse. It’ll be more to burn. And the queen’s driving the only ones who can stop it into hiding. You tell me how that ends.”
Draga scowled and looked away a moment. “I’ll keep fighting the queen on the beacons,” she said finally, resting her chin on her interlocked hands. “One more thing to keep her distracted. And … she’s throwing that ball three days from now, her biggest yet. I can challenge her there, in front of everyone, on how she’s handling the plague. Either we force her to back off the Crows, which should cost her the support of the Oleander Gentry, or she doubles down, which costs her the support of every plague-fearing citizen in Sabor. No matter what, she’ll be at her weakest.”
“I like it,” Khoda said. “It could be the right moment to reveal the real Prince Jasimir as well. The nobility will be starving for an alternative to Rhusana.”
Draga nodded slowly. “Jasimir can call fire to prove he’s a Phoenix, and we’ll arrest Rhusana for abducting and assaulting the crown prince, and throw in murder, treason, the standard. It’ll be quick, be public, and leave time for the real coronation to happen before the end of Phoenix Moon. I think we have a plan.”
There was a knock at the door. Fie snapped the glamours back into place, and Draga jumped. “Gods, that’s uncanny,” she muttered, then raised her voice. “Yes?”
The same war-witch as before opened the door. “Prince Jasimir is here. He requests a private word.”
The four of them exchanged glances. What did Tavin want with Draga?
Draga swallowed. “Very well. Cat-masters, take your leave. We will make another appointment for later.”
Jasimir crinkled the fish treats and the cats came running, dragging their leashes behind them. Fie picked Barf up again and glamoured her coat to pure black. No sense in risking Tavin recognizing the tabby.
Tavin was waiting in the hallway as they left, knotting his hands together, and he brushed past them without so much as a sideways squint. His escort of Hawks lingered outside Draga’s office, but they paid no mind, either.
The three of them were just passing the archives hall when a handful of people spilled into the courtyard. Some wore Sparrow servant uniforms, but others were in the violet robes of Owl clerks. All of them had one sleeve yanked up, flashing the Sinner’s Brand rash on their arms.
The squad of Hawks behind them seemed to be debating something. Fie caught “—her orders—” and “—no room left!”
“Then take them to the quarantine court for Splendid Castes!” the corporal commanded. “There has to be some room there.”
One pointed to the eastern gate. A curl of black smoke was rising; someone had kindled the plague beacon again.
“Thank the Mender,” one soldier muttered.
Then the beacon was doused in a puff of steam.
“This is absurd.” The soldier planted his spear butt in the ground. “These people aren’t sick and we can’t—”
“Enough! The last time someone spoke out against the queen, they left without a hand,” the corporal snapped, then realized they had an audience. “Move along, Sparrows. This isn’t your concern.”
The prince, the spy, and the only Crow in the palace traded looks. It was, in fact, very much their concern.
That didn’t mean there was aught they could do about it now.
“Of course, sir,” Khoda said, and hurried them away.
Behind them, Fie heard the squabble continue as the sinners huddled in the courtyard, wide-eyed and afraid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CROWS IN THE GARDEN
In her dream, Fie walked the burning streets of Karostei, fire on every side. At her feet lay a long, long line of bodies: young, old, Sparrows, Owls, Hawks, Peacocks, Lakima, Khoda, Yula, Jasimir.
The line stretched far as she could see. All their eyes were open. All their eyes were on her.
“Mercy,” they whispered as one. The Sinner’s Brand climbed up their throats like strangling vines. “Give us mercy, Ambra.”
“That’s not my name,” Fie answered. “That’s not who I am!”
The fire roared around her, the sea roared below, they were falling into black, bottomless water and there was no way out—
Fie woke with a start. Barf leapt off her chest.
“Sorry,” she heard Khoda whisper. He eased himself back through the door of the guest quarters with a basket on one arm that