Fie studied Jasimir’s options from above: He could try to weave round the Oleanders. Or he could inch across the dirt and chance the horses startling at his scent. Both would take precious time.

Barf went quiet.

Prince Jasimir stiffened, then smacked one of the horses on the rump.

The horse whinnied and reared, its rider swearing. Jasimir darted across the dirt, ducking flying hooves, and rounded the wagon until it stood betwixt himself and the Oleanders. Fie had to allow that he’d been clever there: from that angle, the riders couldn’t see the side panel crack open.

Jasimir’s arm vanished into the flames, then reappeared with a fist around the scruff of Barf’s neck. He yanked her out swift and stepped back from the fire. Barf wriggled and buried her face in the crook of his arm.

And not a single soul had witnessed it save Fie.

“Get your beast under control,” the Peacock lord barked.

The rider who’d near been bucked off patted his horse’s neck. “Apologies, m’lord. She’ll settle once we’re away from the fire.”

Another man gave a shout, waving his torch to the road. “Tracks over here. Nail-marks on ’em, like their sandals. Headed south.”

The Oleander lord stared at the burning wagon. Jasimir took another step back. Sparrow witch-tooth or no, he wasn’t accustomed to going unnoticed. But the sandpine mask only turned to the road and then back to the camp.

“YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED,” he thundered, loud enough that Fie flinched. “LONG REIGN THE WHITE PHOENIX.”

Tavin’s fingers tightened on her shoulder again. This time she knew it had naught to do with her.

The Oleander Gentry spooled from the clearing like a weft of burning wool, all white and dust and flame.

Once the hoofbeats sank from earshot, Pa let his own Sparrow teeth go and whistled the all-clear signal. Crows rained from the trees, flocking to put out the burning wagon.

“I’m sorry about your cat,” Tavin said, and let her go.

Fie smirked up at him, a little jump-drunk from swinging betwixt fear and relief. “Well, I’m not.”

She cut her Sparrow witch-tooth free, and Tavin’s eyes flashed with panic as he realized the prince was gone. Then a muffled cheer rose from the Crows below, drawing his attention to where Jasimir stood, still cradling the groggy tabby.

“His idea,” Fie said, smug. “Royal command, even. Can’t disobey that.”

Tavin studied the prince for a long, long moment, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Then he crouched to better look Fie in the eye, face inches from hers.