The prince opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking. “It’s different,” he said slowly. “Royalty are prime targets for coordinated attacks and internal violence—”
“Aye, and we actually die from those.” Fie folded her arms. “You said you wanted to help. Rhusana seems to think she’s got Hawks to spare. We’ve named the terms, prince. Cut your oath or leave us be.”
Fie’s favorite thing about the Money Dance was that it always, always worked.
Tavin ran a hand over his dark hair. “She’s got a point, Jas. Several, in fact. Enough points that I’m starting to think she’s mostly thorns.”
“Some bone in there, too,” Pa added, his grin little more than lacquer over an unspoken threat. “Y’know. For structure.”
Prince Jasimir scowled, eyes darting from Fie to Tavin. After a long moment, his shoulders drooped. “Fine. You have my word.”
Fie caught her breath. A ripple shifted through the Crows; it might as well have echoed down the road, all across Sabor.
The prince had just sworn to tell his country that Crows were worth protecting.
But they only had his word. Fie knew how flimsy a Phoenix’s promise was. “I said a Covenant oath.”
The prince shrank back. Hangdog laughed cruelly. “Oh, the wee princeling’s afraid of cutting an oath, then?”
Pa shot Hangdog a dark look. “No harm in it, lad. I’m the chief. You’ll bind it with me.” When Jasimir didn’t move, Pa slowly drew out a jagged stump of a sword from under his robes. Some long-past battle had sheared the blade in half, leaving a length of steel no longer than Pa’s forearm, but its broken point still gleamed wickedly as Pa jabbed it into his palm.
He held up his hand, showing a small, bloody gash. “Naught to it, see?”
“Tav…” Jasimir’s voice had withered like a raisin. Fie knew that fear, the trap of a road that only went two bad ways.
“Isn’t his word good enough?” Tavin slid between Pa and the prince. A line in his brow said the casual façade was like to split a seam.
“No,” Fie answered, cold. Tavin’s diplomacy caved as he frowned at her. She scowled back. “What’s the matter? Afraid your king-to-be might have to keep his deal this time?”
Prince Jasimir flinched and shook his head. “I … Fine. You’re right.”
“Jas—” Tavin put a hand on the prince’s shoulder.
“A king doesn’t get to make empty promises. This is just a formality.” Jasimir shrugged him off, walked over to Pa, and grasped the sword’s broken end. His fingers came away bloody.
He and Pa clasped hands. The air round them fried with a cold heat, like the moments before a lightning strike. The ring of torches burned higher, washing the roadside in red light.
“In flesh and blood do I make this oath,” Pa said. “Me and mine will see you safe to your allies, prince. To the Covenant I swear, may my soul not rest until it be done.”
“In flesh and blood do I make this oath,” echoed Jasimir. “As king, I will ensure the Crow caste’s protection as payment for their service to me now. To the Covenant I swear it.”
A breeze stirred Fie’s hair, dragging the torch-flames sideways. The very ground seemed to hum beneath her toes.
Pa still held steady. “By the Covenant, we bind this oath. I swear to keep it in this life and, if I fail, the next.”
The wind only grew stronger.
“With the Covenant as witness, this oath shall be kept.” Jasimir’s voice was louder now. “In this life or the next.”
Firelight seemed to catch round their joined hands a moment, flaring brighter as it wove through knuckle and skin.
There was a brief, furious blaze of light, and then it was done.
The Covenant had heard them, Pa and the prince and even Fie.
The breeze died, the dim torchlight suddenly paltry in the wake of the oath. Fie swayed in place, trying to snatch whole thoughts from a whirlwind in her head.
She’d sworn the prince to a Covenant oath. No more Oleanders; no more riders in the night; no more fingers in the road. So long as they kept their end of the deal.
But if it went bad, Pa would pay the price.
The notion coiled about her throat like a collar on a queen.
If Pa or Jasimir failed in this life, they would still be sworn in the one after, and after, and after. Until their oath was kept, Pa would be bound to the prince.
And a royal Phoenix would be sworn to protect the Crows.
Hate the boys or no, Fie had to admit that extorting royalty had its sunny side.
“Pleasure doing business with Your Highness,” Pa said, cheery. He let the prince go. “Now I believe we’ve got some bodies to burn.”
CHAPTER FOUR
TOOTH AND NAIL
“Make yourself useful or make yourself scarce, Hawk.”
If Tavin kenned the salt in Wretch’s tone, he didn’t show it, swaying by the cart as he tried to balance a split of kindling on his head.
“I heard this is how Sparrow farmers carry their burdens,” he answered with a grin Fie was already sick of. “Don’t you want me to blend in?”
“Wrong caste,” Fie snapped, pulling another armful of firewood from the cart and loading it into the sling she’d made of her cloak. At least Prince Jasimir had the sense to stay out of their way as the Crows built up the pyre. “The only way you’ll pass for a Crow is if you keep your fool mouth shut.”
“That’s a lost cause,” Tavin admitted with a shrug. “I couldn’t even keep quiet as a corpse.” At Fie’s baffled look, he plucked the stick of kindling off his head and pointed it at her. “At the quarantine hut? You said something about the incense, and I laughed. And then your grumpy friend nearly broke my neck tossing me into the cart.”
She’d thought the laugh was Hangdog. And she’d thought wrong. Again.
The prince fidgeted, flexing the hand he’d cut. The Covenant had healed him with the sealing of the oath, but that didn’t seem to ease his nerves. “That incense has been the ceremonial—”
“The damn patchouli, that’s what she called it.” Tavin laughed, balancing the kindling on a fingertip. “Three solid days of that mess. I told you it was foul, Jas.”
Fie swiped the kindling from him, swung her bundle of firewood over a shoulder, and stomped away.
“She agrees with me,” Tavin added in her wake, unperturbed.
The Fan. She only had to put up with the lordlings’ nonsense until they made it to the Fan. Well, to the governor’s city of Cheparok. Then Pa’s end of the oath would be kept, and she could forget about them and the Oleander Gentry both.
Hangdog was turning a band of earth for a firebreak round the growing stack of wood as Fie approached. At the sight of her, he stuck the spade into the ground and muttered, “His Highness giving you grief?”
“Just his guard dog,” she grumbled back.
“Seems they trained him a few tricks.” Hangdog jerked his chin behind her.
Fie snuck a glance. Tavin had perched on a wobbling log by the cart, balancing more kindling on each palm and the crown of his skull. Half the Crows were rolling their eyes. The other half were laughing.