“Three?”

“Three, aye. We’ll stretch them as long as we can.”

Fie headed over as Besom fished in a bag lying in the sun-yellowed grass. No doubt the old keeper was knotting Phoenix teeth into a chief’s string for Pa. Neither lordling glanced up from fire or sword-whetting. It was a blessing in disguise, for even by daylight Fie couldn’t mark which of the two was the prince.

As soon as Fie sat, Pa plucked the puff of panbread from the griddle, dropped it into a clean rag, drizzled it with honey and a pinch of salt, and handed it to her. “Here.”

One lordling paused the scrape of stone on steel. “Oh, are we eating now?”

That amiable act could only be the Hawk boy. Both lordlings eyed the stack of panbread like tax owed to the crown; Fie recalled them saying they hadn’t much to eat for three days.

She looked the Hawk boy square in the eye and bit off a chunk of panbread.

“Aye, we can eat now.” Pa twisted about to call to the rest of the Crows, and likely also to hide his grin. His voice carried across the clearing. “Breakfast time, you lot.”

Tavin flicked his hand at her. “Pass a couple for me and Jas, will you?”

“Can’t. Hands’re full.” Fie took another monstrous bite.

The Hawk muttered a curse and scrambled to reach the panbread heap before the others. Pa scarce had time to dash salt over two rounds before Tavin snatched them away. Prince Jasimir shot Fie a dirty look over the campfire, waiting while Tavin bit off a scrap of each, chewed them over, then tore off the untouched halves and handed them to the prince.

There was a moment’s peace as Pa salted panbread and passed it to Crows. Then Prince Jasimir spoke up. “Your glamour’s wearing off.”

Tavin swallowed with a grimace. “We can leave it for a few days.”

“Don’t they have Peacock teeth? They can fix it.” The prince jerked his head at Pa.

Pa raised his eyebrows. “You’ve a Peacock glamour, then?”

Tavin nodded. “For my face. I mean, I’m Jas’s double for a reason, but you can still tell us apart without one.”

Fie pursed her lips. So far, the only difference she’d spotted betwixt the lordlings was which one mummed at liking the Crows.

“Sorry, lads. We don’t have enough spare Peacock teeth to glamour you all the way to Cheparok. And on that notion…” Pa dropped a wheel of dough onto the hot griddle, then pointed his tongs at the lordlings’ fraying topknots. “Those? They have to go.”