smoke coming from where he gripped the silver.
Tavin had frozen beside her, eyes locked on Khoda and the queen, but Fie didn’t want to count on that holding up. Slowly, she shifted her weight, then tapped Jasimir’s foot with her own. Jasimir blinked. The smoke went out.
“Let’s think of another way you can pay.” Rhusana tapped her lips. “What about an arm? Or an eye? Which would you rather pay?”
Fie heard Tavin’s sharp breath.
Khoda’s face went gray. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Please, Your Majesty—”
Rhusana raised her hand again, the rings and claws tipping her fingers now speckled red. Khoda flinched. “Are you not sorry, manservant?”
“I—this unworthy one is sorry, Your Majesty, so sorry—”
“Then show me how sorry you are,” she cooed. The queen yanked her tiger’s chain. The great beast lumbered closer, sniffing. “Make your choice, or Ambra here will be happy to make it for you. An arm or an eye?”
The tiger nosed Khoda’s bloody face. A heavy pink tongue lolled out and lapped at the scratches.
No one moved. Not even Tavin.
There were Phoenix teeth on her string, Fie knew, and there was steel in the blade beneath her skirt, and Jasimir could call fire down, but there were Hawks all around them, and it was a long way to the palace walls.
She didn’t know if she could stop this. Not without giving up everything they’d worked for here—not without giving up her chance of stopping Rhusana.
Here she was, garbed in all the power of a dead aristocrat, on the arm of a prince, and she couldn’t even save one servant.
What good was any of this?
“Choose,” Rhusana ordered in a singsong voice, eyes dancing. She curled her fist. The tiger shuddered, its tail lashing faster. Its whiskers flicked back in a snarl.
“Your Majesty, if I may…” The woman Dengor had been nattering at stepped forward and spread her hands in apology. “I’m afraid this was all an accident, my brother wasn’t looking and—”
Rhusana’s nostrils flared. Her tiger lurched forward, swiping a massive paw. It caught the gray-haired older woman across the arm and thigh. Her scream rebounded through the assembled Peacocks, but no one moved. She crumpled to the ground. The beast’s jaws closed on her wrist.
The queen dragged at her tiger’s chain again, and it let go with a muffled roar, shaking its head. A hand fell out of its jaws, only to be snapped up again. Droplets of blood flecked its fur and Rhusana’s skirts alike. The woman below her moaned, sobbing but still alive, clutching the stump where her hand had been. Blood bloomed all across her side. Not even Lord Dengor stirred to help her.
Rhusana smiled serenely at the assembly. “Would anyone else care to contribute their opinion?”
No one said a word.
Fie had seen that lost, unsteady look before, on the faces of Splendid Castes and upper Hunting Castes, when there was a rare case of the Sinner’s Plague among their own. She’d seen it on Geramir’s face, when she reminded him of the dead girl whose face she now wore.
They had not thought themselves in danger from a queen who’d come from Swans, someone whose lot in life it was to sing sweet songs, dance sweet dances, and perhaps bring sweet pleasures to their beds. They thought they knew the rules: the Peacock aristocrats paid and the Swan courtesans did what they were asked. Even if Niemi had accidentally slipped into the Well of Grace … Well, that was an accident, and it was to be expected at the hands of a Phoenix prince.
Rhusana was the Swan Queen, and they would tell themselves she was more style than substance, easily manipulated, a puppet monarch. So long as she only savaged servants, and only murdered challengers to her crown, they figured themselves safe. Their money and their rank and the promise of their support—that would protect them above all else.
And not a one of them knew what to do with a queen who cared for none of it.
Not even Tavin, who had not moved once from Fie’s side.
“Remove this mess,” Rhusana said, waving a hand, and Fie felt a knot in her spine slip loose. Khoda would likely have scars, but compared to Lord Dengor’s sister, those were a light price to pay. Hawks emerged from the shadows to hurry both Khoda and the wounded Peacock out.
The glint of red on Rhusana’s diamond-tipped claws caught her eye, and she pursed her lips.
“Do…” Tavin cleared his throat. “Do you want me to send