Jasimir gripped her shoulder. “Don’t die,” he said, and only half of his tone said it was a jest. “I’m keeping the oath. You’re not allowed to die until you’ve seen it for yourself.”

Half of her grin said she believed him. “I’ll try. So far I’ve been fair good at it.”

“That makes two of us. But I think Tav’s about to commit an act of treason if I keep you any longer.”

Fie looked behind her. Sure enough, Tavin had gone fidgety, scowling at the road ahead. Coming from him, that was nigh a death threat.

She gave Jasimir a whole grin this time, then went to her Hawk.

“Do you want your sword back?” she asked him, reaching to unbuckle the scabbard from her belt.

He opened his mouth, shut it again, and, without a word, pulled her into a long, hard kiss. Madcap whooped somewhere at her back; Fie managed a rude gesture in reply before returning to more pressing business.

When they finally broke apart, he stayed near, cradling her face in his hands. “Please, please be safe.”

“You just made a fair case for staying in one piece,” Fie informed him. “But you should probably boot Rhusana fast anyway. Barf’s bound to miss you.”

That nudged a soft laugh out of him. “Only the cat?”

“Suppose I might, too,” she allowed. “You want your sword back or not?”

“Keep it. Use it. Just stay alive, no matter what.” Tavin traced her cheekbones with shaking thumbs. “I don’t care if you burn down half of Sabor. And I don’t care how long it takes, I swear I’ll find you again.”

“It won’t take you too long.” She kissed him one last time, light and quick. “Crows go where we’re called.”

And then she stepped back, knowing if she lingered any longer, she’d never let go.

But she was a chief with a beacon at her back. She had mercy to deal; she had an oath to witness; she had her own to look after. And her road had led her this far, down strange ways and to strange ends, taking her where no one thought a Crow would tread. She had no reason to doubt that even if Tavin couldn’t share her path now, someday it could lead her back to him.

“We’re moving out,” she announced, as Pa had done a thousand times before.

A chorus of ayes resounded from her kin. And a new answer followed from Corporal Lakima and her Hawks: “Yes, chief.”

She whistled the marching order, cast one more look to her lordlings, and turned away.

She had a chief’s string; she had Pa’s blade; she had a bag of Phoenix teeth. She had a king-to-be’s oath; she had a Hawk’s sword; she had a bastard boy’s heart. She had a mask and a fistful of fresh mint.