Anji raked the brush against Molli’s flank, and after some time she felt the tension leak out from her neck and shoulders. The work was soothing in a way, like folding linens. Just a series of monotonous motions that eventually left her with a job done. She’d found a sort of comfort in that, locked away for hours in the stuffy confines of the castle basements, brick walls sweating, the reek of soiled sheets and mildewy wash basins thick in the air. She’d been kept there so long she could bring the image up like a stage play in her mind: fourteen servants in matching homespun lined up along rickety tables, scalding water slopping in giant tubs at their backs while they repeated the same motions over and over. Gossip and chatter weaving in and out of their work, Kaia the chief instigator. Anji would participate as she liked, but the hours passed without a word were like traces of gold in black rock. The crinkle of fresh sheets, the smell of lavender and rose petals, cotton and silk chafing at her fingertips.

Molli’s left flank finished, Anji started on the right. She leveled a look over the horse’s back, at the Hawk now marching back from the shoreline, her pot sloshing with water. Anji hadn’t even noticed the woman had left.

The Hawk settled on crossed legs in front of the finished tent, dug a bundle out of the burlap sack, and began pulling apart strips of dried meat. Her hands trembled despite the black gloves she always wore.

“Can’t we start a fire?”

“No.”

“It’s freezing, I can’t keep—”

“No fires. Anyone searching would spot us too easily.”

“I don’t understand you,” said Anji, shaking her head. “You killed your own friend—”

“He wasn’t my—”

“And then you killed three royal guardsmen.” Anji threw up her hands, her manacles clinking.

“They were trying to take you.”

“But the constables in Silverton—you weren’t worried about them. Why?”

“Because they—” A muscle twitched in the Hawk’s jaw. Without looking at Anji, she said, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Anji shrugged a shoulder and kept brushing.

“You could put up a barrier,” she said, pulling a knot of horse hair out of the brush. “Something maxial? If you can keep me tied like this I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to—”

“If I could do that don’t you think I would have by now?” said the Hawk, wrapping a portion of meat into a wad of brown paper. She scratched at the leather covering her neck and cleared her throat.

“You’ve been coughing,” said Anji. “I’m only saying, a fire would—”

“I’m fine,” snapped the Hawk. “Get to my age and we’ll see if you don’t let out the occasional cough.”

“I think you’re afraid.”

“Fear keeps a body breathing.”