was giving off a heavenly aroma. “It’s just me. No—scoot, Jasifur.”
“Mango,” Jasimir mumbled from the couch. The orange cat left off rubbing on Khoda’s ankles and went to go sniff the prince’s hand.
“You have terrible taste,” Khoda informed the cat. He set the basket on the table and opened the window drapes to let in drastically more sunlight than Fie expected.
Jasimir sat up and cringed. “Why in Ambra’s name—er. Why is it so bright out?”
“The sun’s been up for about three hours now,” Khoda answered. “But I figured you two could use the rest, and I could use the opportunity to get my rounds in without having to worry about you running off to assassinate the queen. And I’m afraid I got some … disturbing news.”
Fie rolled out of the bed and shambled over to the basket, where she found a heap of fresh panbread and stuffed rolls. “All of this mess has been disturbing.”
“The quarantine courts are empty,” Khoda said. “No sign of the sinners, no blood, not even a blanket. They’re all gone. And the queen’s only statement is that the situation has been addressed.”
After a moment, Fie shoved a roll in her face, then went back to bed.
“You’re right,” she said, spraying crumbs everywhere. “I hate it.”
“Can Viimo find them?” Jasimir suggested, helping himself to a roll.
Khoda shook his head. “She needs a possession to track the owner, and the Hawks are burning anything the sinners had with them in the palace. We can try to look if we have time, but … there are two days until Rhusana’s ball. We’d be better served focusing on what’s in our control.”
“You say that, but you won’t be the one to cut all those throats,” Fie said sharply. “How many do you think we’re up to now? Two score sinners?” Khoda’s nostrils flared, and she knew the count was higher. “Are the beacons even burning?”
“The last anyone saw the sinners, the only symptom was the Brand. I don’t like it either, but two days from now, Rhusana will be at her weakest, and that may very well be our only real chance to unseat her before it’s too late. After that we’ll have a new king, and no one will fight Jasimir on lighting beacons then.”
“I still think Fie should be queen,” Jasimir said abruptly.
Fie’s scathing retort died in her throat.
“I know—I know what you and Aunt Draga said, I heard it the first time.” Jas held up his hands. “But we can all see it, can’t we? The crows all over the palace, the, the half plague, the fact that the real reincarnation of Ambra is here now. The Covenant wants something.”
Khoda started tearing panbread into even strips, slow and methodical. “I didn’t want to bring this up in front of your aunt for obvious reasons, but there’s another … consideration. You’ll need an heir.”
Jasimir looked to Fie, nervous. “I’ve considered it. I meant what I said earlier. I could pardon Tavin, and—”
“We’ve been through this,” Khoda started.
Jasimir plowed on. “—and if he and Fie reconcile and decide to have children, I’ll name one to be my heir, and if not, we’ll find another way, but—”
Fie swallowed. Jasimir might be able to pardon Tavin, but even the softest parts of her had tried to forgive him for weeks and failed. It was one thing to near rut Tavin on her own grave; it was another to make him father of her child.
And that wasn’t the only issue. “It’s not enough for me to be queen,” Fie said. “Ambra swore to give up the crown.”
Khoda laughed in disbelief. “Hear that? It’s not enough to be queen! And pardoning Tavin will only give your enemies an alternative—”
“Rhusana is extorting him,” Jasimir insisted. “He said to her face he knew she’d kill him. Tavin only signed those orders because she was threatening to hurt Niemi.”
“But he still signed them,” Khoda said, cold.
Jasimir looked ready to throw a roll at him. Patpat slunk off the sofa to hide under the low table beside it. “He’s my brother.”
“We need to be consolidating your power, not dividing it,” Khoda snarled, “and you’d see that if you weren’t too busy trying to save a traitor.” He turned to Fie. “You tell me, Fie. How do you feel about raising a child with the man who—”
Something snapped in Fie. “I KNOW WHO HE IS!” she bellowed. Even Barf looked taken aback at the outburst.
Fie ran her hands through her hair, then reached for her slippers. “I’m