Uncertainty coiled around his words. Part of Fie felt better for hearing it there. “That’s sound enough. We can cover at least another league before we stop tonight.”

They camped in the ruins of an old watchtower that night, one they’d found thanks to Crow marks on a signpost. It held a bounty: a clean well, a long-feral vegetable garden, and, best of all, a hearth. For the first time in days, they could light a fire and not betray their camp.

Jasimir watched Fie scrawling out Ta-ri-ka-o-va-oi in the ashes. “And then Tavin passed the governor the platter of Hassuran steak and said, ‘I didn’t think your son could make it.’”

Fie collapsed into giggles, the weary sort that came of late nights.

So did Jasimir. When the laughter died down, he said, “Gods, I miss him.”

A knot blistered in Fie’s throat. “Aye,” she whispered. “So do I.” Ta. Ri. The letters blurred. She needed a distraction, anything to leave that wound alone. “He said the king has a shine for Hawks.”

“Hawks and women. At least he and I have the Hawks in common. Hopefully for different reasons.” Jasimir’s voice scraped with something almost like hunger. “But that’s why he married one of the Twin Talons. I don’t think Aunt Draga ever forgave him for it.” He reached for the fire, letting it harmlessly thread his knuckles. “All he wanted was a son like a Hawk. When Tavin arrived…”

Fie knotted it all up herself: How the prince had demanded Tavin’s duty, not understanding what it would mean to be fulfilled. How he’d rankled as Tavin’s loyalty slipped to her. The tremor in his voice when he’d claimed his Hawk had one job alone.

“The king put Tavin first,” Fie said.

Jasimir closed his eyes and nodded like it hurt. “My mother spent so much time training him, right until she died, and Father would always … light up when he watched. I’ve barely seen him since he married Rhusana.” He let out a bitter laugh. “He couldn’t even be bothered to watch my funeral march.”

Beyond the ruined watchtower walls, a reedy howl coasted on the wind. They both knew the whistle of skin-ghasts by now; they both fell silent until it faded.

Then Jasimir glanced at the ashes and brightened a little. “Your vois are getting better. Keep it up and when you see Swain again, you can help him with his scroll.” Jasimir stared into the fire. “I can’t believe everything Crows carry in your heads. It’s incredible. All that history, all your traditions…”

“That’s what walking songs are for. We hear them nigh as soon as we’re born.” Fie pondered a moment. “The teeth feel like that, too. Like each one has a song, and when I call them, the dead sing through me.”

“Were either of your parents a witch?”