Anji walked ahead of the mare, wrists chafing, pain radiating from her skull. She’d hardly found sleep before the Hawk had roused her, commanding Anji to march forward despite her protests for more rest. The small of her back ached, she was dizzy with hunger, her nose was a ruin. The Hawk had given her a rag soaked in what Anji’d hoped was clean water, but dabbing at the wound only made it throb all the harder.

She’d lost count of her attempts at conversation, the Hawk silent from her perch atop the horse, ignoring her every word. So Anji was surprised when the woman finally answered.

“Thought about it,” she said, that monotone voice reverberating off the metal mask she’d donned once more. “Still thinking about it, but unfortunately you’re worth double with a heartbeat. I expect there’s not much fun in flaying a dead regicide. Though I’m sure you’ll chatter the Wardens into putting you out of your misery within an hour.”

Anji’s gut clenched. They wouldn’t actually flay her, would they? She dug her fingernails into her palm. Focusing on the pain brought her to the here and now. She wanted to keep this woman talking. At some point the Hawk would let something slip, some weakness Anji could exploit, something she could use to get the hell out of this mess. She kicked at a tiny chip of lava rock and watched it skitter through the grit. The Lynx’s boots had fit, at least. Anji had decided to relish the comfort they gave compared to her laundress flats, rather than picture their previous owner.

“If you’re so annoyed with me, why not cast a charm to shut me up?” she said, looking over her shoulder. “You’re a Maxia.”

The Hawk barked a laugh, twitching the reins, her voice like a bell inside the metal mask. “If you think that tether is a spot of impressive maxia, you haven’t seen much of the wider world.”

“I never said it was impressive.” Anji tugged at the ever-tingling knot around her ankle. “How much did this set you back? You’ve got it active at all times. I bet it’s costing you a month per day.”

“It costs what it costs.”

“I wouldn’t pay anything if I were as old as you,” said Anji. “You can’t have much time left as it is.”

“I’d gladly give a year of my life to shut you up. Eyes front, girl.”

Anji narrowed her eyes. “I have a name,” she said, turning back to the rutted road. “It’s Anji.”

The Hawk said nothing.

They trekked in silence down the narrow easterly road, tundra stretching to either side. The sky spread wide and azure above, empty of clouds, the sun a useless yellow disk. And always the ceaseless, droning wind.