The Hawk pulled one of her knives from her belt and rammed it to the hilt into the Bear’s exposed throat.

The gathered crowd let out a collective gasp as Kit pushed the Bear away, the sword grinding back out of her stomach. The Bear crumpled to the ground, Kit’s knife still lodged in the space between mask and leathers. Anji got to her feet and stumbled forward as Kit cried out, slumping to the planks. A wine-dark pool of red was already forming, seeping into the black cracks between boards.

The Bear choked and convulsed and rolled to her back, strings of blood flowing past the mask and onto the dock. Her legs kicked and scraped against the wood. She gurgled something and reached a trembling hand to her blood-drenched sword, but Anji kicked it away.

Days past, Anji might have stood over the Bear and relished the woman’s dying breaths. She would have ripped the mask off and exposed that evil face for all Tideron to see. She would have shoved her blistering wound between blood-coated lips. She would have mocked her god, her vision, and her faith, and laughed while her life leaked out.

But Anji knew now. Knew it would do no good. Her taunts wouldn’t grow her fingers back. Her satisfaction would turn to ash.

So she turned away, and left the Bear to die alone.

Chapter 43

43

Anji hobbled to Kit, still lying on her back paces away. The pool of blood had grown to engulf her still form.

“Somebody get a doctor! A surgeon!”

“Anji—”

Nobody in the crowd said a word.

“She needs help!” Anji screamed.

“Anji,” Kit said again, her voice weak. “We—” She coughed up a dribble of blood. Anji wiped it away. “The boat.”

“Okay.” Anji grabbed Kit’s arm and hauled her up, relief flooding through her at her groan of protest. “Okay, the boat. I’ve got you,” Anji said, her voice sounding a million worlds away. “Let’s get you out of here. I’ll take care of—”

“Stop!”

A constable had come forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword. Anji disregarded him as she scrabbled with Kit’s dead weight.

“My fault…,” murmured Kit, “all my fault. Anji, my—”

“Shush,” Anji said, teeth bared. “It’s alright now. Don’t talk.”

The guard cleared his throat. Anji heard the rasp of steel on leather.

“In the name of King Rol—”

“He’s dead, remember?” Anji said, wincing at Kit’s slumped weight and the searing pain in her arm. “This was Menagerie business.”