An idea carved through her thoughts like her sandal-nail on marble, and left a trail like a bloody finger.

“No,” Fie said. “I say no deal.”

Surprise flashed over every face on the road. Hangdog’s snort followed. Prince Jasimir’s dark eyes narrowed. “We want to help—”

“Oh, you want to help,” she mimicked. “Does His Highness have another servant to shovel up all the crap falling out of his mouth, or is that his job?” She jerked a thumb at Tavin. To his credit, the guard only raised his eyebrows, but that razor edge danced in his gaze again. “You faked your deaths. You tried to go back on your deal with Pa. And you just told us your whole plan is to lie to everyone in Sabor. Why would we trust you?”

“Because your lives depend on it,” Prince Jasimir snapped, panic sparking in his voice. “Do you truly think the Oleander Gentry will treat with you?”

Fie smothered a laugh. “Awful convenient how your heart only bleeds for Crows now that you need us. Spent your life weeping on the inside, did you?”

“That’s not fair,” Tavin started.

That same old rage whipped the words from her. “Fair? Fair? You want to tell me what’s fair, palace boy? You want us to choose betwixt letting the Oleanders run us down by day or making sure they still have to do it by dark so your castes can keep pretending you don’t see?” She spat at their feet. “Call that help if you want. Your Hawk’ll pick it up with the rest of your crap.”

If any Crow thought Fie had overstepped, she’d hear their grumbles. Instead, the roadside was wired in taut silence, all eyes on her.

They knew a Money Dance when they heard it.

Tavin moved first, rubbing his hands together. Somehow the gesture still looked deadly. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted with a shrug. “At least, not about your options. It’d take another ten years in service of the palace for me to make it all the way to royal dung collector. I’d recommend you take our word on the Oleanders, though.”

“What’s your word worth when you’re good as dead?” The rot in Hangdog’s voice said this was more than the Money Dance. “When we’re all good as dead?”

“Fine.” Prince Jasimir pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gold? Jewels? Lands? What’s your price?”

Fie mimicked Tavin’s dismissive hand flick. “Flash and trash. If the Oleanders don’t loot those from us, your other gentry will.”

“Then what do you want?” Prince Jasimir asked.

This time, Fie already had a chief’s price in mind.

Look after your own. She had one foot already down this road, and every eye was on her. She couldn’t go back; she couldn’t give her ma mercy or keep Hangdog from screaming in his sleep. But she could keep any Crow from having to walk that way again.