“At this point, I feel like I should just give up on trying to tell you two to stick to any kind of plan.” Khoda was doing his best to look severe as the three of them headed to the wing of the palace that housed the Hawks and their generals, but the effect was rather ruined by the fluffy orange tomcat attempting to stand on his shoulder, his magnificent tail waving like a war banner. His leash draped like a garland over Khoda’s head. “What else do you want to do while you’re here? Steal the crowns?”
“It was a calculated risk, and it paid off,” Jasimir said primly. Patpat was walking beside him on a leash fastened to his harness, chirping at the prince every so often as if to hurry him along. They’d stopped by the guest quarters, collected three cats and one of Yula’s preapproved requests to send in cat-masters, filled in the relevant information for Draga’s office, and set off before the next hour-bell.
Fie had found that Barf liked the leash even less than her harness; she’d flopped on her side and refused to budge, making Fie carry her in her arms. “Granted, if they’d gone near the window seat, they’d have found us. But they didn’t, and we’re all the better for it.”
Khoda cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve heard stories about the prince and that window seat.”
“Please, no.” Jasimir covered half his face with a hand.
Fie stared at him, both delighted and wary. “What kind of stories?”
Khoda shook his head, his smirk making the red lines on his face look all the more like whiskers, and gestured to the prince.
Jasimir let out a long sigh. “I … may have … engaged in certain activities, for the first time, on that window seat last year.” Khoda coughed. “And I was not aware Father would be giving a tour of the private gardens to the new ambassadors.”
Fie recalled the lovely view the study had had of those very gardens. The windows were crystal, not glassblack; that view definitely went two ways. She let out a gleefully outraged cackle. “You rolled your first lad on those cushions? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What with all the mass murder plotting, it didn’t seem like the time!” Jasimir’s cheeks flushed darker. “Besides, he was my languages tutor and Father had him dismissed by the end of the day, so it was only the once. He’s our age and very charming, so I’m sure he had no trouble finding someone new. I’d rather we all forget about it.”
“The tutor certainly didn’t.” Khoda swung the orange tomcat off his shoulders and set him on the ground. “Come on, Jasifur.”
“You’re not calling him Jasifur,” the prince said immediately. “His name is Mango.”
“That’s the objection?” Fie muttered. Khoda and Jasimir didn’t seem to hear, embroiled in impassioned debate. She noted with interest that the flush on Jasimir’s cheeks still lingered. Khoda might not have been her type, but she could hardly fault the prince for his tastes when she’d just watched her last lover sign death warrants for her kin.
They passed the Hawk training yards, the armory, and finally reached the administrative offices, where they presented the slip calling for cat-masters and were sent up three flights of stairs. A small line of Hawks waited at the far end of the hall before massive twin mahogany doors. One wore the badge of a war-witch.
“I know the witch,” Jas said under his breath. “They were one of my mother’s closest friends.”
“Authorized visitors only,” the war-witch called down the hall. “Anyone entering this floor must have their caste verified, by order of the queen.”
Jasimir straightened his shoulders. “I have an idea. Let me go first.”
“You’re the ranking cat-master,” Fie returned.
Jasimir strode down the hall, Patpat trotting at his side. “We have a work order for the master-general’s suites,” he said, holding out a wrist. The Hawks looked taken aback at a Sparrow speaking like a commander, but the war-witch stepped forward and laid their hand on Jasimir’s forearm.
A moment later, their eyes widened. They gave Jasimir the slightest smile, then nodded to Khoda and Fie. “Your associates, too?”
“Deputies,” Jasimir said. “They’re my deputies.”
The war-witch only briefly clasped their wrists, looking from Jasimir to them and back. Then they took the work order slip and said, “Let me verify this with the master-general.”
They ducked through the mahogany doors. After a minute, they emerged and held the door open. “The master-general says now is an acceptable time.”
“Thank you.” Jasimir bowed and led them in.
Draga was on her feet, face strained, but she waited until the door shut to ask, low, “Is it really you?”
Fie let the glamours go. Draga dropped into her chair, then motioned for them all to come closer. “I—I thought you’d all be long gone. How?”
Barf squirmed in Fie’s arms until she set the tabby down. “When all this is over,” Fie said, “we’re having a long talk about palace security.”
“Like I said, the queen underestimates everyone else,” Khoda added dryly. “Including a Crow witch with a grudge and a bag of teeth. Do you think Rhusana’s lost her hold on you?”
Draga nodded. “Obviously, there’s no way to be certain, but it felt like a … a hand was on the back of my neck, and an hour or so after the coronation broke down it was suddenly gone. But it was too late by then.” She sent a rueful look at Fie. “I should have figured the mess with the ceremony was your doing.”
“And the plague beacons last night were yours,” Fie returned.
Draga winced and leaned back. “Something’s wrong here. The crows, the Sinner’s Brand, the outbreaks … We’re in uncharted waters. At least it looks like there’s a way out.”
“You’ll help us against Rhusana and Tavin, then,” Khoda said.
“I can fight the queen for the beacons. I can’t—” Her breath hitched. She coughed, but it didn’t cover the wobble in her voice. “Taverin made his choices. I won’t delude myself about whether he can survive them. But it won’t be by my hand.”
“I could pardon him,” Jasimir offered.
Both Khoda and Draga shook their heads. “You’d be leaving an opening for the Oleander Gentry,” Khoda said. “They’ll take up arms in his name, claiming he’s the rightful king.”
“I’ll support you for monarch, Jasimir,” Draga said. “And you’ll have my help taking on Rhusana. That’s what I can offer.”
Jasimir’s eyes darted around the room, nervous. He took a deep breath, licked his lips, and asked, “Will I still have your support if Fie is my queen?”
There was a heartbeat of perfect, stunned silence. Then the eruption of noise sent all three cats bolting under Draga’s desk.
“ABSOLUTELY not,” Khoda half bellowed, while Fie, jaw agape, could only manage a “What?”
Draga herself was staring at Jasimir as if he’d grown another head. All she asked was “Why?”
“She’s Ambra reborn,” the prince said in a rush. “It would only be a formality, and—”
“Stop.” Draga held up a hand. “Go back. Fie is what?”
Fie couldn’t make herself answer. If Niemi had heard this, she’d be shrieking with glee at the prospect.
Jasimir wanted to make her a queen. A true queen. He’d raise her to a place untouchable, and through that, she’d raise all the Crows into safety.
Jasimir balled up his fists. “She’s Ambra. You can ask the Black Swans. That’s why they sent Khoda to keep an eye on Fie. And—”
“Can we prove it?” Draga asked. “And I don’t mean by interrogation from a Crane witch. What I’m asking is how we convince the rest of Sabor that Ambra, Queen of Day and Night, was reborn as a Crow.”
“She gets it,” Khoda grumbled.
Fie still couldn’t find words, but Jasimir was not deterred. “We can figure out something. But if I marry Fie, that elevates the status of every Crow. It will be immediate, undeniable protection for the whole caste.”
“Until a few monarchs down the line, when both of you are gone and terrorizing Crows is back in vogue,” Draga snapped. “Then what? The Crows need protection, but this will only last as long as you do.”
“What’s the alternative?” Jasimir fired back. “Because Rhusana’s getting ready to raid every Crow shrine she can. We can’t do nothing.”
Draga shook her head. “Rhusana’s already imploding. She’s emptying the palace treasury on these parties, she’s terrorizing the aristocracy, and she’s asking all of Sabor to roll shells with the plague. We just need to be patient.”
“And how long is patient?” Fie found her voice again, now on familiar ground. “How much of the country’s burning plague beacons right now?” From Draga’s flinch, she knew the answer was too much. “Every day it’ll get worse. It’ll be more to burn. And the queen’s driving the only ones who can stop it into hiding. You tell me how that ends.”
Draga scowled and looked away a moment. “I’ll keep fighting the queen on the beacons,” she said finally, resting her chin on her interlocked hands. “One more thing to keep her distracted. And … she’s throwing that ball three days from now, her biggest yet. I can challenge her there, in front of everyone, on how she’s handling the plague. Either we force her to back off the Crows, which should cost her the support of the Oleander Gentry, or she doubles down, which costs her the support of every plague-fearing citizen in Sabor. No matter what, she’ll be at her weakest.”
“I like it,” Khoda said. “It could be the right moment to reveal the real Prince Jasimir as well. The nobility will be starving for an alternative to Rhusana.”
Draga nodded slowly. “Jasimir can call fire to prove he’s a Phoenix, and we’ll arrest Rhusana for abducting and assaulting the crown prince, and throw in murder, treason, the standard. It’ll be quick, be public, and leave time for the real coronation to happen before the end of Phoenix Moon. I think we have a plan.”
There was a knock at the door. Fie snapped the glamours back into place, and Draga jumped. “Gods, that’s uncanny,” she muttered, then raised her voice. “Yes?”
The same war-witch as before opened the door. “Prince Jasimir is here. He requests a private word.”
The four of them exchanged glances. What did Tavin want with Draga?
Draga swallowed. “Very well. Cat-masters, take your leave. We will make another appointment for later.”
Jasimir crinkled the fish treats and the cats came running, dragging their leashes behind them. Fie picked Barf up again and glamoured her coat to pure black. No sense in risking Tavin recognizing the tabby.
Tavin was waiting in the hallway as they left, knotting his hands together, and he brushed past them without so much as a sideways squint. His escort of Hawks lingered outside Draga’s office, but they paid no mind, either.
The three of them were just passing the archives hall when a handful of people spilled into the courtyard. Some wore Sparrow servant uniforms, but others were in the violet robes of Owl clerks. All of them had one sleeve yanked up, flashing the Sinner’s Brand rash on their arms.
The squad of Hawks behind them seemed to be debating something. Fie caught “—her orders—” and “—no room left!”
“Then take them to the quarantine court for Splendid Castes!” the corporal commanded. “There has to be some room there.”
One pointed to the eastern gate. A curl of black smoke was rising; someone had kindled the plague beacon again.
“Thank the Mender,” one soldier muttered.
Then the beacon was doused in a puff of steam.
“This is absurd.” The soldier planted his spear butt in the ground. “These people aren’t sick and we can’t—”
“Enough! The last time someone spoke out against the queen, they left without a hand,” the corporal snapped, then realized they had an audience. “Move along, Sparrows. This isn’t your concern.”
The prince, the spy, and the only Crow in the palace traded looks. It was, in fact, very much their concern.
That didn’t mean there was aught they could do about it now.
“Of course, sir,” Khoda said, and hurried them away.
Behind them, Fie heard the squabble continue as the sinners huddled in the courtyard, wide-eyed and afraid.