isn’t,” Tavin said, “and neither are you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE CROWN
“They’re called the Black Swans.” Master-General Draga’s voice was calm enough, but she paced about the tent like a tiger pestered by a persistent bloodfly. “Always thought the name was a touch melodramatic. They’re spies.”
Fie would not put good odds on that bloodfly; nor did she put good odds on Khoda or Steward Burzo, both bound hand and foot. They knelt on plain, sturdy woven mats in the master-general’s tent before Tavin, Fie, Jasimir, and Draga herself. They’d offered surprisingly little resistance to being hustled straight to Draga; Khoda had just seemed resigned, and the steward utterly baffled.
Khoda straightened up now, looking almost indignant as he jerked his chin at the steward. “He’s not one of ours. And we prefer to be called specialists.”
“Specialists in infiltrating other castes, gathering key intelligence, and reporting back to their spymaster, the monarch, and myself.” Draga folded her arms, coming to a halt beside a rack of spears. “Spies. I understand you’re trained in identifying potential threats. What do you call a Swan agent embedded with one of Rhusana’s prime targets?”
“An asset,” Khoda said shortly. “I can assure you, the Black Swans have absolutely no desire to see Rhusana on the throne. If I were on her side, she’d already have Fie’s hair.”
“That’s a fair point,” Jasimir allowed.
Fie wasn’t sure any of it was a fair point. A whole moon, a whole moon Khoda had been spying on her and her band. The notion made her skin crawl. Aye, he’d run off Oleanders, he’d kept watch, he’d played the part of a Hawk all too well. None of it meant a damn if he’d done it to buy his way into her graces.
Tavin shook his head as he moved about the tent, lighting lamps with a fingertip against the waning daylight. “We can’t trust anything he says until it’s verified by a Crane witch.”
“No need to wait.” Fie pushed a witch-tooth free from her string with perhaps more enthusiasm than was appropriate. Any Crane tooth could spot lies from him; a witch-tooth could force him to speak plain truth.
Fie rolled the molar between her palms and looked to the master-general. “Who first?”
As Khoda opened his mouth to protest, Draga tapped the crown of his head. He slumped over in a healer’s sleep. “Steward Burzo.”
The tooth-spark snapped to attention at Fie’s call, a stringent old magistrate with little patience for criminals and even less for liars. “How long have you been working for the queen?”
Burzo blinked up at her, and the truth slipped out of him far more easily than she expected: “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know how long or you didn’t know you were working for her?” Jasimir asked.
“I didn’t know I was working for her,” Burzo answered.
Tavin seized his shirt and yanked him close. “You tried to take Fie’s hair. You tried to kill her guard. Who do you think you were working for?”
“I don’t know,” Burzo sputtered.
Fie set a hand on Tavin’s arm and shook her head. “He’s telling the truth.”
The master-general waited until her son let the steward go. “Burzo. Why did you do all that?”
“I…” The tooth-spark gave a hitch, like a net tugging on a bewildered fish. Burzo’s open face said as much, his mouth pursing as he searched for words. “I … wanted to.”
Fie and Draga traded glances, and the master-general tapped Burzo on the back of the skull. He wilted into a healer’s sleep as well.
“First the skin monsters, now this.” Draga rubbed a thumb between her brows, scowling at the ground. “The Swans have always been cagey about the extent of their witches’ powers, but … Rhusana knew when to push Burzo into taking Fie’s hair. There’s a chance that she can see what he sees or hear what he hears. We’ll keep him under watch until Rhusana’s dealt with.”
Fie rolled the tooth a little too hard against her thumb. Spies in her band, spies in Jas’s camp, and no knowing what secrets they’d stolen. If one more spy popped out of the woodwork, she was going to skip the questions and go straight to cutting throats.
When Khoda was dragged out of his sleep, he took in the unconscious huddle of Steward Burzo, then smirked at the rest of the tent. “I bet that was frustrating.”
Tavin looked ready to haul him about by the collar, too, but Draga held up a hand, face impassive as she stared down at Khoda. “What makes you say that?”
Khoda’s smile didn’t waver