Besides, even the Hawk would have to sleep again sometime. Opportunities would present themselves, just as one had in Rolandrian’s bed chamber. Anji had escaped Linura Castle’s many constables—she could escape one old woman who, from the look of it, had severed ties with the Menagerie.

“Well, we haven’t run into any more of your friends,” she said. “Why aren’t you working together anymore?”

“Not my friends,” said the Hawk, “and certainly not yours. If they catch us up they’ll try cutting my throat and take you for themselves, as was plain this morning. I can’t have that. So we’re avoiding the passage south, taking the long way through Tideron and the Kalafran Ocean.”

Then down the coast, right into the Port of Linura, Anji thought.

“How are we going to navigate through towns, through Tideron, with everyone looking for me?” Anji asked, genuinely curious. “My face must be up on every bare wall by now.”

“True enough,” said the Hawk, “but you’ve only a slight resemblance to the girl in the drawings. A spot of luck, that. The artist had a clumsy hand. Also, your hair is shorn, and now your nose is an altogether different shape.”

“Right,” said Anji slowly, “but I’m traveling with you now. Won’t that make people suspicious? What better prisoner for a Menagerie member than a king killer?”

The Hawk cleared her throat. “Most folk see the mask and they’re smart enough not to prod me with questions.”

“Kill me then,” Anji said, glancing over her shoulder, “if I’m so annoying.”

“Don’t mistake me, girl. You’re worth more alive, but my patience has its limits. Even so, I’ll keep my head now and collect on yours later.”

“What do you even need all that money—”

Anji yelped and tumbled into the dust, her toe throbbing despite the boot’s thick leather. The Hawk cursed and yanked at the rope until Anji scrambled back to her feet, teeth clenched. Stupid road filled with stupid rocks. Cold and wind and rain and lava rock. Anji forced a breath through the stabbing pain in her nose. Every hero in the stories she’d read had braved forests and swamps and endless beaches. They’d fought ogres and trolls and sand shrikes, commanded armies, and rescued children from cruel witches. Nothing about this barren tundra seemed worthy of a book.

“The bounty on my head must be huge,” she said, “if the whole Menagerie is up here chasing after me.”

“Enough to fund an army,” the Hawk said. “Eyes on the road.”