“He’s a war-witch,” Hangdog muttered behind her. “I thought I saw the sign.”

Sure enough, black lines adorned the Hawk guard’s unburnt wrist.

“Hear that?” Fie spoke loud enough for Pa to catch, trying not to think how close, how sharp the sword’s tip loomed. “He was just looking at your witch-sign.”

She counted one breath, then two, then three, never breaking Tavin’s stare.

Then the blade vanished in a hiss of a sheath, as swift as it had appeared. Tavin nodded, curt. “Of course I can hear him now. He’s figured out how to use his words.”

Fie dragged Hangdog over to Pa before he figured out words the prince or his guard dog found more offensive.

Pa shook his head as the last few globs of flashburn oozed from the jug onto cold wood. “Near one,” he said under his breath. “Hawk fools are still Hawks. Let’s not forget the claws, aye?”

“Aye, Pa.” Fie hated the shake of her hands, the old wrath curdling her veins. Oath or no, Hawk boys still liked to see Crows jump when they flashed steel. She wouldn’t forget twice.

Pa pressed something small, hard, and familiar into Fie’s palm. His voice rose. “You two will stay back to mind the fire. No call to salt it without sinners. Meet us at the haven shrine once it’s burned low. Everyone else, we’re clearing out.”

“Flint,” Hangdog called as the other Crows grabbed their cart-ropes. “It’s still in the cart.”

Pa shook his head, pointing at Fie. “No need.”

She uncurled her fist. A single milk tooth waited there, gleaming bright against her fingers. Startled, she looked to Pa.

He just nodded. “Go on, girl.”

Fie set her other hand over the Phoenix tooth, rolling it betwixt her palms like a gambler about to throw a shell. It only took a moment’s focus to find the spark of old life buried deep within, a ghost slumbering in bone. This was unlike any spark she’d dug up before—but Pa wouldn’t give her aught she couldn’t conquer.

Closing her eyes, Fie pulled her hands apart. The spark broke free.

She saw silk and gold, sandstone courtyards, a fist thrust into fire before a cheering, jewel-dusted crowd. No hunger, no fear, only the weight of terrible ambition. Then, like the beast before, it vanished—all but a flickering heat still in the palm of her hand.

She opened her eyes. The tooth was burning.