Fie took a deep breath and closed her eyes. If she didn’t think of him, think of any of them, she could do this.

She sat up, aching from crown to toe, then crawled over to Tavin’s pack. Jasimir didn’t stir from the ground, eyes clenched shut, mouth moving in something like a prayer. She only caught snatches of words:

“… not dishonor my blood … a Hawk who … not forsake…”

Her hands shook as she worked at the knots cinching the pack shut.

The words came clearer now. “… follow until I must lead. I will shield until I must strike.”

She cut through the ties with Pa’s sword.

“By my blood, I swear, I will serve my nation and the throne above all.”

She did not look at Tavin’s sheathed blade still lying in the dirt.

The prince’s mumble cut off. Jasimir pushed himself up to glower at her. Clean tracks ran down his face from red-rimmed eyes. “That—that isn’t yours.”

“Aye,” Fie said dully. “You’ll have to carry some of it, too.”

“It belongs to Tavin,” Jasimir said. “It’s his.”

Fie’s mouth twisted. She turned back to the pack and pulled out the cooking pot. “He knew what he was doing.”

“We have to go after him. Hawks don’t forsake their blood.”

“He wanted us to keep the oath.”

“Stop that. Stop saying he knew and he wanted. He’s not dead.”

The pot fell. She didn’t answer.

Even if they didn’t catch the fading Peacock glamour, sooner or later, one of the skinwitches would spot the scar tangling about Tavin’s wrist, a burn that a fireproof Phoenix prince would never have. Fie just prayed they caught on while they still had use for hostages.

“He’s not dead,” Jasimir repeated, angry.

Fie just pulled a spare cloak out of the pack, winding it around her shaking fist. Her silence only seemed to stoke his anger.

“He only gave himself up so you could get away,” Jasimir railed on. “He did this for you. And you didn’t even—you won’t even go after him. You don’t care.”

Fie bit her tongue hard, hard enough to taste blood. Then she looked at the modest heap of Tavin’s supplies and decided she’d carry them on her own after all. Anything to leave this damned canyon faster.

“You could have saved him. You have every Phoenix tooth in Sabor. Why didn’t you do anything? You just let them—”

Finally Fie picked up Tavin’s sword and stood.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jasimir demanded, scrambling to his feet.

“We have to leave,” she croaked.

“Twelve hells we do!” Jasimir’s voice cracked. “We’re getting him back.”

“Shut your mouth.” She needed him to stop talking about Tavin. She needed to cut her losses and move on, move out before anything else fouled up.