“I’m sorry about my cousin in the market,” he continued. “I’m sorry about my … about the Hawks, how they treated—how—how we treat you. And I’m sorry for making you keep the oath. I didn’t—I don’t—” His voice hitched, and he cut himself off a moment. “Rhusana gave the Crows over to the Oleanders, but Jas and I brought your family into this mess ourselves. I’m so sorry.”

She wanted to hit him. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him to be speaking true.

But the weeping didn’t go away. Neither did he.

The words spilled out like her tears, burning, unstoppable. “I hate it. I hate how, how we’re always the ones who have to keep our mouths shut and take it and keep doing our job, because we’re Crows. You can kick us around anytime because we all know if we kick back, you’ll just put on some white powder, call yourselves Oleanders, and cut every one of us down.”

She couldn’t stop.

“And even if you don’t, you just look the other way, and when they’re done you say we provoked them, we brought it down on our heads, we’re the ones who ought to hold our tongues, we ought to shut up and take the high road, we always pay so you don’t have to.”

Everything burned saltwater.

“And now I have to abandon my family, I have to save someone who didn’t give a damn for my caste until it was convenient. Your prince’s crown is coming out of my hide.” She hated herself for dancing up the oath. She hated Pa for making her the one to keep it. She hated Tavin for his silence, for not leaving, for driving her to spew up the sickening fire in her heart instead of letting it break her down to ash.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

It made her angrier, somehow. “You’re just as bad,” she snarled. “It’s easy, isn’t it? Believing whatever the prince tells you to believe. You keep telling yourself he has to be right because otherwise you’re dying for someone who isn’t worth it. You see how we’re treated on his family’s watch, and you still tell yourself he’ll be a good king.”

“I…” His voice cracked. “I can’t answer for—for Jas. But I swear if we make it out of this, I’ll do everything I can to help you. And yours.”

“Why should I trust you?” Her knees near swallowed her words. “Why should I trust any of you?”

A long wind dragged through the needles of the sandpines before Tavin said, bleak, “I don’t know.”

Then he stood, one more shadow tearing edges into the night sky.

“I’ll take watch.” He stumbled toward a break in the trees. “Get some rest.”