She wrenched the dog statue’s head around, and the panel in the statue base lowered once more. Fie eased halfway down the steps, holding her breath and waiting for any telltale noise. The walls themselves seemed to rattle and thrum around her, making it all the harder to focus. God-graves always sang in her bones, and it was tolerable enough when she tread on only the one. If the legends were right, the Phoenixes had dumped all twenty-four of their dead gods under the two galleries, and the drone of their song ground into her very teeth.
There was no time to dawdle, not when she’d no notion if guards would pass by the statue or if Tavin would return. Fie rushed to the bottom of the steps. They opened to a short, narrow stone passage lit with more oil lamps. A line of bars walled off the end of the hall, making a small, enclosed chamber furnished with cushions, a bed, and a low table. A stack of dirty dishes sat near a narrow metal flap.
There were no Hawks on guard that she could see. Fie didn’t know if that meant Rhusana couldn’t spare any, or if the fact that it had taken a Pigeon witch’s Birthright to find this prison meant secrecy was its main defense.
Jasimir lay on the bed, reading a scroll, but he sat up at the sound of her footsteps. His eyes widened. “Fie? What are you doing here?”
She planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “I’ll give you two guesses.”
Jasimir let out a laugh almost like a sob, hurrying to the bars. “F-fair point. I just didn’t think Rhusana would leave you alive, no matter what she promised…” His face buckled briefly. Tavin’s unspoken name hung over both of them like an executioner’s sword.
“As far as she knows, she had me drowned. Lakima saved me. I’m sorry, Jas. I ran—my band, I had to—”
He shook his head. “You’ve been through enough for me. Of course you needed to get your family to safety. I can’t believe you didn’t … you didn’t give up.”
She winced and stared at the stone floor. “I did. I figured it was all rutted, all I could do was wait to starve with the rest of my kin. But some miserable wretches reminded me I owe the queen a whipping.”
“You have help?” He straightened up, a light sparking in his face. “Is Tav in on the plan?”
She swallowed, voice knotting into a rasp. “No.”
They both went quiet a moment, recoiling from the salt in the wound. Fie cleared her throat, then called her Owl tooth back to better cement her memory of this moment. “I haven’t long. Tell me about this cell.”
“It’s made to hold royalty.” Jasimir frowned. “Technically, only the royal family and their most trusted servants are supposed to know about them, and even then, Owl witches have been called to wipe memories if anyone got too loose-tongued. I’m sure Rhusana’s only sending servants under her control.” He shook his head. “And you just … walked in? Just like that?”
“Pigeon witch’s tooth,” Fie said by way of explanation, but couldn’t help feeling the teensiest big smug. The palace was fine, but clearly it had not been Crow-proofed. “How do we get you out?”
“Ah. That I don’t know.” Jasimir twitched his fingers. A tiny golden flame ignited over them, then snuffed out. “Any of us can call fire in the palace, since we’re so close to the god-graves. But these cells are built so that if I tried it, I’d burn up all the air and suffocate long before the bars got hot enough to bend. There’s one under every statue in the Divine Galleries.”
Fie closed her eyes, letting the words stamp into her mind with the memory Birthright. Anything that could help break Jas out, she needed to note. “Walls are stone, bars are metal, no fire. How’d they get you in to begin with?”
“I don’t know. The last thing I remember is Aunt Draga’s tent, and then I woke up here.”
“Sounds like a healer’s sleep,” Fie muttered as she looked around, just to commit the words to memory along with everything else. “So Rhusana has at least one war-witch, along with a glamour-weaver. You’re getting meals through that?” She pointed to the metal flap beside the stack of dishes, and Jasimir nodded. “No other locks, levers, anything?”