risk Jasimir dying in a coup. And Jasimir’s captivity means there is no alternative—Tavin and Rhusana are the only eligible rulers.”
“Two of those count on Jasimir.” Fie frowned.
Khoda ventured another grin and pointed the stick at her. “Exactly. She’s keeping Jasimir imprisoned in the royal palace. If we can break him out, then Rhusana loses her leverage against Draga. A stool with two legs wobbles.” He drew a slash through one circle, then another. “We prove Jasimir is … well, the real Jasimir, and Rhusana’s plan falls apart in front of all of Dumosa. All she’ll have left is the king’s illegitimate son.”
Fie stared at the remaining circle. Ambra’s descendant. A bastard boy. A Hawk who hadn’t, in the end, believed she could win against the queen.
“I can take that from her,” she said, icy as a Marovar wind.
Khoda carved a line through the final ring. “And that’s why I’m here. Like I told you before, Rhusana’s biggest weakness is that she underestimates everyone else. She didn’t understand why giving you Phoenix teeth would be a problem until she’d already done it, and she doesn’t see you as a threat without them. So she’s going to account for Draga’s warriors, she’s going to account for Jasimir’s fire, she may even foresee an asp or two from a disgruntled noble. But she’s never going to expect you.”
Fie frowned, a thousand questions, fears, and rages running roughshod through her skull. “How long do you reckon this takes?”
“Well, the game is up if the solstice coronation goes through,” Khoda said with a shrug. “Then legally she’ll have command over the military whether Draga likes it or not.”
“Solstice is in four days.” Fie shook her head. “We’ll never make it.”
“Viimo and I brought horses,” Khoda said. “It’ll be a hard two days’ ride to Dumosa. If we can disrupt the ceremony, that will buy us time, but if we can’t end Rhusana’s reign before Phoenix Moon ends, I’d say we won’t end it at all.”
“Pa?” Fie turned to him. “How long can you hold out?”
He scratched his beard. “Jade’s band, Ruffian’s band, and your band … We’ll make it to the end of the moon, aye. But it’ll be tight, and if any more bands seek shelter here, it’ll be tighter.”
Part of Fie wanted to say no. But she’d be giving up on a future. She’d be giving up on the Crows.
She’d be no better than Tavin, and that she could not abide.
“Aye,” she said. “I’m in. Now how exactly do we break a prince out of a palace?”
Viimo let out a cackle. “Well, it starts with something you’ll like.”
* * *
“That ought to tide you over for Sparrow teeth.”
Pa dropped a dozen into Fie’s hand, and she tucked them into a pouch as they made their way through the shrine’s teeth storage. Viimo and Khoda had assured her they had most every other supply covered; they’d arrived with a third horse for Fie, one that had been weighed down with enough Hawk rations to perhaps buy the shrine a few more days, even.
That even included a few changes of clothes. She’d traded her crowsilk leggings and shirt for a Pigeon’s loose gray linen shift, painted leather vest, and trousers; her ragged black cloak had been replaced with one of striped gray, and a scarf round her throat hid her string of teeth.
It felt odd to wear aught that wasn’t crowsilk. It felt worse to wear it in a Crow shrine.
“Vulture, you’re set; Swan won’t do much good…” Pa tapered off, and Fie saw why. The jar he’d come to was painfully small and painted with the Crow mark for “Phoenix.”
Part of Fie wanted the whole jar for herself, wanted that weight in her bag, wanted the knowledge that if all else failed, she could burn her way clear.
But that wasn’t the part that won.
“You heard Khoda,” she said. “Rhusana’s accounted for fire. Keep them for if it gets bad and we need to go out and get viatik.”
“You sure?” Pa asked.
Fie let a hand stray to her scarf. If all else failed, she had one Phoenix tooth left to burn now—or at least, one last tooth from a half Phoenix.
“Aye,” she said. “I’m sure.”
He pushed his lips together, then waved a hand. “Come on, girl.”
They left the tooth stores, and Fie tried to ignore the looks from the other Crows. If she saw someone in Pigeon garb stomping about a shrine, she supposed she’d be antsy, too, especially after a Vulture and Swan