“Sit,” Anji said, and to her surprise, Kit eased back onto the bed, running a hand through her gray hair. She hacked a weak succession of coughs, mucus crackling like a rockslide. Anji dragged the chair closer and sat down as Kit lifted the journal from where it lay upside down on the floor.

“You read my—” she said, her lip twitching. “This is private. You had no right to look through—”

“It fell on the ground while you were sleeping!”

Kit fanned the pages once, as though to check they were all still there, then with a glare at Anji, shoved the journal back into the folds of her leathers. She wiped at her mouth. Her body quaked from head to foot, like something inside her chest had set to vibrating. She patted the side of her neck. “Still intact. What’s that, a whole day without you opening someone’s throat?”

“Nearly two,” Anji said. She took a step closer, studying the area of skin on Kit’s neck where her leathers ended. Still clear, as far as she could tell.

“What are you looking at?” said Kit.

“Nothing,” said Anji, holding out her hand. “Found these for you.”

Kit looked the vials in Anji’s palm, her eyes going wide. She reached out a shaking hand but Anji snatched hers away.

Confusion crossed Kit’s face, but it quickly shifted to anger. “Give me those.”

“No,” Anji said, lifting her chin. “Not unless you give my things back.”

“And arm you in the process? I think not. Hand them over.”

“You’ll die if you stop taking it.”

“Not before I kill you.”

“Just the dagger?”

“Girl.”

“The coin?”

Kit sprang from the bed with a snarl—

“Okay, okay!” Anji said, tottering back. “The manacles then.”

The Hawk paused, already rocking a little on her feet.

“I could have killed you in your sleep,” said Anji, “but I didn’t. It’s the least you could do.”

Kit snorted. “The least I could…” she said to herself. She glared at Anji. “I would have woken up. There’s no way—”

“You were dead to the world,” Anji said, and after a long silence, “Please.”

Kit’s eyes rolled between Anji and her chains.

“Fine.”

Anji had barely held out her hand before Kit snatched the vials and popped one of the corks with a practiced fingernail. She sank back onto the bed and tipped black powder onto one quivering fingertip. She snorted, capping the vial as she tilted her head back. Some of the powder sprinkled to the floor, but Kit didn’t seem to notice, and Anji didn’t mention it. Instead she pointed to the closet door.

“The blue bag is in there, along with your swords. Still can’t get the damned thing open. Once I do though—”