Slaughtered? Rabedy thought. The others were all dead?

“They killed you,” a crow boy said.

“They did. But cerva don’t believe that more killing is a solution. The Grace holds all life sacred.”

“But—”

“And carrion-eater though Raven is,” she went on, “he doesn’t seem at all pleased to have only bits and pieces of bogans with which to approach the fairy court. It won’t make negotiations easy.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words. But you know Raven. He can say more with the look in his eye than you or I might in ten minutes of talk.”

“We thought he’d be glad . . .”

“Well, he’s not. Now, shoo! Get away from here. This place is sacred to those who follow the path of nonviolence.”

“We’re sorry . . .”

“It’s all right, cousin. I know you thought you were helping. But now it’s time for you to go.”

Rabedy leaned closer when there was no response to that. What was happening out there?

But then he heard the sound of wings, and he knew they were leaving. He let out the breath he’d been holding.

“You can come out now,” Anwatan said.

Still nervous, he crept forward until he emerged from under the overhang. But Anwatan was alone on the beach.

“Keep that shape,” she said, “or you’ll bring them back. I’ve had enough of death and vengeance.”

Rabedy cocked his head and looked up at her. There was an unhappy light in her eyes.

Are you all right, mistress? he asked.

“No,” she replied. “How could I be? I’m dead. Minisino is dead. Your friends are all dead. Soon Odawa will be, too. And what has anyone learned from all this killing and death? Nothing.”

I’m so sorry . . .

She reached down and ruffled the fur on the top of his head.

“I know you are. Why do you think I kept them from you?”

But maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to go free. Maybe I should give myself up to—

“Weren’t you listening to me? I think there’s been enough ‘justice’ served as it is.”

But—

“No. Preserving your life . . . that’s all I have left.”

Only I’m the enemy.

“Are you? Is that how you feel?”

No. But I was with them. I’m a bogan.

“And there are stags that kill, but so what? We all have our natures, but that doesn’t mean we should use them to excuse what we do. We choose what we do. You chose not to be a part of the killings. I choose not to take vengeance.”

The more he got to know her, the worse Rabedy felt about not having tried to stop the others from killing her. She was so strong of spirit—nothing like an Unseelie fairy.

If I could trade places with you—