“Leave me be.” A shudder passed through Kit’s narrow shoulders. She shifted on the bench and the Hawk mask clattered to the planks. Kit ignored it, staring out across the waves. “It’s over, Anji. Over for me.”

Anji hunkered down in front of Kit, her uninjured hand gripped tight to the woman’s bony knee.

“What are you talking about?” she said, her voice a croak. “You’re the Hawk, you’ve been through worse than this.” She glanced at the empty vial floating in the pool of blood and salt water at their feet. “You’re going home. We’re going to get you help. You still have—”

“The bag,” Kit said. “Bring it here.”

Anji frowned but lifted the blue bag and set it clinking in Kit’s lap. The Hawk slipped one of her gloves off, revealing a hand sprouting fur and hard ridges, taloned black nails at the tips of her fingers.

Kit handed her the glove.

“Put it on,” said Kit, motioning to the bag.

Anji did so, the glove still warm from Kit’s hand. She reached out to the bag and touched the silky cloth. It sprang open from a hidden seam.

Anji laughed despite herself. “The gloves,” she said, wiping away a tear. “You never took them off.”

“Mmm,” said Kit, her head hanging.

Anji upended the bag. Inside were a change of Kit’s clothes, assorted bits of food and wrappings, a battered pair of shackles, a collection of empty vials, and Anji’s dagger in its leather sheath. She slipped the blade free, her fingers tight around the familiar handle, then spotted a gleam of dull metal soaking in Kit’s blood.

Two coins. One Anji’s, the other its twin.

“What—I don’t—Kit, what is this?”

“I took it, Anji,” said Kit, her chest heaving. “Me.”

Anji picked up the coins, both pulsing with maxia.

“You took…” Anji squeezed the coins, the edges digging into her skin.

“All my fault,” Kit said, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. She spat a thick glob of blood and mucus and sank lower on the bench. “I killed them. Stuffed the pages into their mouths. I took your coin before the Goat could guess what it was. Found you on the streets. Paid to have you taken to the castle.”

Anji stared, a buzzing filled her ears. Her vision tunneled, her hands shook.

“I thought you’d be safe,” said Kit, “and you were, for six years. Even when the castle bells began to ring, I knew you would be okay. Then, when I heard your description—when I heard about what you’d done—I cursed myself for putting you there. I cursed gods I don’t even believe in and thanked them when I found out you’d escaped.