Tavin laughed outright at that. Jasimir, surprisingly, covered a smile with a hand. Fie couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him smile.

Fie couldn’t help grinning back. Maybe it would be all right, at least for a little while. They weren’t her kin, but the sharp edges of their pomp had worn off enough to abide for now.

Then Jasimir set his empty bowl down. “I’ll take watch.”

“No,” Tavin said, swift as a gate slammed shut. “Leave it to Fie and me.”

The prince frowned. “You know Mother wouldn’t want me to be deadweight.”

“She’d want me to do my job,” Tavin said, stiff. “And that’s keeping you alive.”

“You managed it fine in the palace.”

“We’re not in the palace.”

The prince’s gaze shifted to linger on Fie. His frown deepened. “Suit yourself.” He rolled out his sleeping mat and lay down without another word.

Fie couldn’t fault Tavin’s reasons; it’d be too easy for the Vultures to snatch the prince up if he alone kept watch. She was also dead sure this wasn’t the last time they’d have this quarrel.

She rolled Hangdog’s cold tooth betwixt her fingers again, over and over. Tavin broke the quiet soon enough. “Is there any chance you can sustain a glamour until the Marovar?”

Fie pursed her lips and reached for Pa’s bag of teeth. Peacocks had plenty of witches, but they had an even more abundant desire to pay as cheap as possible. “Pa may have, eh, underestimated our stock,” she allowed. “You want to look like the prince again?”

“We don’t know what we’re up against. And I’m his body double for a reason.”

“That wasn’t an ‘aye,’” Fie noted. Tavin didn’t elaborate. She fished a Peacock witch-tooth out of the bag anyhow, then sat on her knees before him.

The spark tittered as she called it to life, a Peacock gentlewoman who’d spun fanciful illusions for the royal nursery to gain favor with the queen. The older she’d gotten, the more cruelty and ambition had rotted her away, leaving battered servants, cheated merchants, and swelling coffers. When the plague came for her, she wove her own delirium dreams, giggling at the sights right up until Pa’s blade touched her throat.

“What do you see?” Tavin asked.

Fie opened her eyes. “A Hawk full of sauce and nonsense,” she answered, and handed him the tooth. “Keep this on you until the glamour breaks.”

“I meant when you—I don’t know—wake up a tooth? Is that what you do?”

“I see their lives.” Fie squinted at the prince’s sleeping face, tallying up the differences to paint onto Tavin. “Their choices.” A straighter nose; a rounder eye. “How they died.” Ears set a little lower. “What they did to Crows. I’ve seen how every other caste lives. Hold still.”