she could feed him his own blade.
Tavin scoured the shadows of the king’s room again, wide-eyed, his own chest heaving.
Then he whispered into the night: “Fie?”
Just then, a storm of footfalls boiled up from just beyond a doorway Fie hadn’t noticed, the trill of chimes like rainfall in its wake. “Get out,” a familiar voice spat behind the closed doors.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The stamp of Hawk boots was impossible to miss. Once it faded, the doors were thrown open with a bang, lantern-light spilling into the bedroom. Tavin flinched back, blinking, and opened his mouth.
Rhusana didn’t wait, little better than a knife of a silhouette in the doorway. “Jasimir’s gone.”
“What?” Tavin squinted at her.
“Don’t play the fool with me.” The queen swiped a lamp from the wall and stalked in, slamming the doors shut behind her. She had changed from the linen shift of the coronation ceremony into a simple, sleeveless silk gown, her pale hair in three heavy braids that swayed like asps. In a swift motion, she’d seized Tavin by the neck, her jeweled claws digging into skin. “What do you know?”
Fie decided she could take a step back now. She did so slowly, keeping her Hawk sword close.
“N-nothing,” Tavin ground out. Then he fouled up: he glanced at the wavering flame of her lamp.
Rhusana jammed it closer, the oil sloshing in its reservoir, and Tavin couldn’t help a wince. “Surimir made certain you weren’t fond of fire, didn’t he?”
“I don’t have to like it,” Tavin said coldly. “It still won’t harm me.”
“How sure are you?” Rhusana gave the lamp another swirl, and oil splashed up near to the brim. “What if it’s not just the flame? What if it’s oil boiling on your skin? Will you burn then?”
Without the Peacock glamour to hide behind, the burn scars of Tavin’s hand caught the lamplight all too clear.
“I told you I don’t know anything,” Tavin growled. “What do you mean, Jas is gone?”
Rhusana glowered down at him. Slowly, she let him go, leaving five dark divots on his neck. “The servant who was supposed to bring him dinner was found unconscious in a storeroom. The Divine Gallery guards swear they saw him enter on time anyway, but don’t remember him leaving. The coronation fiasco was just a diversion. The cell is empty.”
Tavin glared back up at the queen for a long moment. Then he asked, “Where is Fie?”
That took the queen by surprise. She frowned, setting the lamp on a bedside table, and folded her arms. Chimes on her bangles gave a fidgety tinkle. “Geramir was careless,” Rhusana said carefully. “She escaped after we left. Doubtless she’s long gone now.”
Tavin narrowed his eyes. Fie knew that face. He was summing up figures in his head. This time the numbers were plain enough: How Rhusana had stormed into his room, rabid with paranoia over the chance Tavin might have betrayed her. How casually the queen dismissed Fie’s absence now, like she was little more than a runaway pet. Like something she wanted him to forget.
“What did you do to her?” he snarled. “My one condition was that no harm—”
Rhusana burst into melodious laughter. “And what does it matter? What will you do now, tell everyone you’ve committed an act of treason? Are you so thirsty for execution?”
Tavin’s whole face seemed to fracture before Fie’s eyes. You damned fool, she thought wretchedly. You thought she wouldn’t drag you down with her.
“You should work on finding a suitable consort,” Rhusana told him. “Something a little less embarrassing, perhaps.”
He didn’t answer.
Fie couldn’t stand to watch anymore. She hated them both so much, she didn’t know if she could do as Khoda wanted and let them tear each other apart. But it was easy to cut a boy’s throat while he slept. She might die trying to take them both on now, alone.
Instead Fie fed her wrath to the tooth still burning in the dead queen’s bed. It didn’t need to balance against the Sparrow witch-tooth, instead snapping up her fury like meat thrown to a tiger.
The blaze had already crept across the floors and crawled up the walls, but now it roared with new hunger. Fie would leave naught there for Rhusana, not one strand of hair, not one scrap of skin, naught but a message unwritten and still crystal clear:
When she came for them, there would be nothing left but ash.
“Do you smell—” Tavin started.
Rhusana had already straightened up, staring at the ripe golden glow now pushing through the screen. Then she