Valyn took a deep breath. “She’s not a pet, Laith. She’s a soldier. The same as you. The same as me. She’ll do what we’d do: fight until she has to retreat, retreat until she can’t, then fight one more time.” He tried to soften his voice. “She saved us, Laith, but she can’t help us anymore. Not now. All she can do is get us caught or killed, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

Laith glared at him, mouth open but silent. To Valyn’s shock, there were tears in the flier’s eyes. For a few heartbeats, it seemed like he was going to keep arguing, to refuse, but finally he nodded, a quick jerk, like he hadn’t meant to make the motion.

“All right,” he said, voice hoarse. “All right. I just need to strip the harnesses. Give her the best chance I can.”

Valyn nodded. “I’ll help.”

“No,” Laith barked. Then, more quietly, “No. I’ll do it.”

It didn’t take long for him to remove ’Ra’s rigging—just a matter of a few knots and buckles, and she was clean. Even then, though, Laith didn’t let her fly, running his hands instead through the feathers over her throat, murmuring to her in syllables Valyn couldn’t understand. The bird remained statue-still, her head cocked at an angle as though listening to the flier. When Laith finally stepped back, she watched him for a moment, then lowered her head slowly, until it was level with the flier’s own. He put a hand on her beak, a curiously gentle gesture that covered the bloodstains from the earlier attack, smiled, then stepped back, gesturing to the sky.

“Get out of here,” he said. “You fought well, now get out of here.”

’Ra bowed her head once, then launched herself into the air with a shriek, great wings moving raggedly as she struggled to gain height. Valyn watched, stomach in a knot, as she turned south, disappearing over a low line of hills.

He turned back to Laith. “I’m sorry.”

The flier met his eyes, gaze hard beneath the tears. “I hope you’ve got a fucking plan.”