He won that round, stealing a shell faster than she could stop him. Her mind was only half there, scrubbing at notions of teeth and royals. A question chipped loose. “That why the prince’s so fussed to save the king?”

“I don’t even know that the thought’s occurred to him.” Tavin rolled the shell in his fingers. “Jas cares about the welfare of his country, and he looks up to his father. And generally, he frowns on coldblooded murder, which is something I look for in a monarch.”

Fie didn’t decide to ask the question; it just seemed to fly out on its own: “Do you really think he’ll be a good king?”

“You don’t?” Tavin looked up, brows raised. She let her silence answer. That same taut-wire edge crept back into his voice. “It’s been my job to die for Jas since we were seven. I’m not about to die for a bad king.”

“Must be nice to have a say in dying on a bad king’s account,” Fie muttered.

Tavin didn’t seem to hear her, rolling the shell around scar-dappled fingers. “Dumosa loves him. The Peacocks are practically catapulting their sons at him for suitors. The king’s council thinks he’s the sharpest heir in generations. And his aunt is master-general, so the Hawks won’t be a problem.”

“For him.”

“For anyone.” Tavin had slipped wholly off-balance now. “We’re bound to protect every Saborian. You know, if we’d camped nearer a league marker last night, the Hawks on duty could have run the Oleanders off.”

Fie tensed, wondering if this was a road she could go down with a Hawk witch, even one trying to make it to her good side. “You didn’t see it?”

“See what?”

“At least one Oleander carried a Hawk spear last night,” Fie said. “Bronze-tipped, for the village outposts. They aren’t running off the Oleander Gentry, Hawk boy. They’re riding with them.”

Tavin stared, silent, at the void in his rows where the gambling shell in his fist belonged. Fie waited for the inevitable denial. Of course he hadn’t seen it; of course he believed no Hawk could do such a thing.

“Jas … Jas can fix it once he’s king,” he said instead. “You swore him to that.”

Fie sat back, startled. But if they were digging into ugly truths, she carried more than her share. “This morning, hours after an Oleander raid, your king-to-be didn’t ask me how he can better protect the Crows. He asked me why we don’t just make it easy for him and leave. So I ask you again: You think he’ll be a good king?”

“Fair enough.” Tavin sighed and at last dropped the shell in place. “If it helps, you two are more alike than you’d think.”