“Where are your parents?”

She knew the answer to this question might further break her heart, but she had to hear it. The boy cast around with wide eyes, as though his parents would turn up around the corner if he looked hard enough. He muttered something about his mother. Anji caught the word “gone.”

Anji opened her mouth to speak when the noise from the tavern rose once more. She twisted to see the Hawk bounding down the steps, a rough burlap sack and a metal canteen sloshing with water in one hand, tucking something into the folds of her black leathers with the other. Anji turned back to the boy, but he was gone, doll and all.

“Well, look at you,” the Hawk said, fastening the burlap sack to the mare’s saddle. “Following directions for once.” Anji whipped around the horse, trailing the slack line behind her, looking everywhere for the kid.

“What’s got you spooked?”

“Nothing,” Anji said, still casting around. “There was a boy out here…” She swallowed, her spit brackish. Nine, she needed a drink now more than ever. “He asked me for some food.”

The Hawk grunted and finished fastening the sack to the mare. “Didn’t expect anyone would come right up and talk to you.”

“He said his parents were…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

The Hawk grunted as she mounted the horse. “Well,” she said, “let’s be off. Couple of louts on the porch followed me in. More curious than the usual sort. They asked after you and I told them you’d murdered two children in Conifor.”

The words took a moment to sink in, but Anji sputtered when she understood. “You what? Why would you tell them that?”

The Hawk kicked at the mare’s sides and they were off again, walking down the wide road separating the dilapidated houses, gray smoke trickling from the thatched roofs. They passed out of the village in silence but for the horse’s hooves, Anji still keeping a close eye out for the little boy and his doll.

“If I’d told them you’d killed Rolandrian,” said the Hawk once they were out of the village, “they would have cut my throat and made you their new queen.”

Chapter 7

7

Anji collapsed to the dirt, fine grit wafting into her nose. She coughed, more powder coating her blistered lips. Every muscle trembled with fatigue and bone-deep cold; her knees and ankles ached like they’d been hammered into shape by an angry blacksmith.

Unmoved by Anji’s attempts at conversation, the Hawk had set them on a southeasterly course out of Silverton with all haste. Once beyond the town’s sight, she’d jerked Anji away from the Rose Road and onto a smaller track that pointed like a dusty dagger toward the sawtooth peaks eating up the lightening sky.