This seemed to be enough answer for the Maxia, though he didn’t look like he quite believed the Hawk. Anji wondered how the Menagerie compared to the Wardens. Where did the Maxia fit in? And had the Hawk left her old companions or not? If she hadn’t, why had she killed the Lynx? She felt like a tiny boat in a roiling storm, though for now at least it seemed she was undetected by the forces blowing about.

“You are full of surprises, Hawk,” Hectate said as Alphoronse flicked the reins. The wagon rolled forward. “Fare well with your charge.” The Maxia turned to cast a final glower at Anji, then snapped the birds into a full trot, up to the road above and on to Silverton.

Chapter 9

9

As soon as the wagon slipped out of sight, the Hawk lurched away from Anji with a curse. She crossed the camp in one bound and began stuffing things back into the bags, muttering to herself in rasping breaths.

The meek laundress in Anji harbored an instinctive desire to let the woman rage, to allow whatever fire had been kindled by their meeting with the Sun Warden to burn itself out. Though she hated to admit it to herself, her exhaustion paired with her situation’s crushing weight weren’t making it easy to push back against the Hawk’s formidable, seemingly indomitable spirit. In fact, the more time she spent in the hunter’s proximity, the more the Hawk’s reputed skill became hard, sharp reality rather than the fanciful legend of her youth. That quiet castle servant urged caution; to fade back, to recede into the shadows until her presence was forgotten.

But Anji was her mother’s daughter, dammit; her father’s sprout. What would they say if they could see her now? Going along with the Hawk’s every flip from Menagerie to rogue, the few remaining days of her life depending on a woman who lied as easily as she breathed. Anji chewed at her lip as she watched the Hawk scuttle around the camp. The woman was an enigma, a walking contradiction whose mystery made Anji feel unsafe and unsure. Well, she was sick of unanswered questions, of being interrupted, of this old woman and the hurtful words she wielded like the swords at her hip.

Above all, she was sick of being forced across this cold, desolate place. Of being beaten and bruised and castigated with no information, conversation, or humanity. She eyed Molli, who at least had the freedom to roam a little distance away to graze should she choose to. Anji tugged at the invisible tether wrapped around her foot, feeling that wire-tight tension against her ankle. She glowered at the Hawk as the woman finished cinching up one of the saddle bags.

“Are you going to explain what the hell just happened or…”

The Hawk ignored her—again.

“Hawk, I think you—”