Page 100 of With Wing And Claw

Nicanor stiffened in his seat, wine halfway to his lips. Inga’s eyes went wide like saucers. Even Silas – who could not have heard of the topic before – didn’t need more than a blink to grasp the implications of what she was saying; his fingers went tight enough to pale the skin around his gleaming bargain marks.

You’re living in a tinderbox …

Only Naxi was snickering soundlessly on the other side of the table, slender hands pressed over her mouth.

‘What?’ Nicanor said after a beat of silence.

‘I reached out to them a while ago. Figured there was no use discussing it with you when they might ignore us entirely.’ Thysandra drew in a breath and pulled the folded letter from her skirt, not yet opening it before she tossed it onto the table. ‘But here we are.’

Three pairs of eyes watched the parchment as if it was a snake about to uncoil.

‘And?’ Nicanor said tightly.

‘They are willing to trade with us for grain and other necessities. At standard market prices, even.’ She managed a smile. ‘Seems they aren’t too eager to deal with the consequences of starving the court.’

He sagged a fraction on his stool, lowering his glass to the table. ‘Good gods.’

That was shock,genuineshock in his eyes. What had he thought, all this time – that she was planning to let the court starve in a few months? Or was it rather her secrecy itself that had unnerved him so?

‘What’s the catch?’ Inga demanded, her glower returning as she leaned over the table and frowned at the folded letter.

‘What catch?’ Nicanor asked, sounding bewildered.

‘To their offer.’ Inga glared at him as if he had personally insulted her. ‘You all stole their food for centuries. Did you really think they’d just continue to hand it over, no questions asked?’

He blinked, then turned. ‘Thysandra?’

‘There is a catch,’ she admitted, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments. ‘They’re asking for extradition of … well, a number of fae.’

Outside her eyelids, the word remained alarmingly quiet for an alarmingly long moment.

Then Nicanor slowly, pointedly said, ‘A … number.’

She drew in a deep breath, looking up despite every instinct in her body screaming at her to try and make herself invisible. ‘Yes.’

‘And …’ His frost-coloured eyes were piercingly sharp on her face; on the edge of her sight, even Silas was watching her closely, his frown growing deeper and deeper. ‘And what sort ofnumberare we talking about exactly, Your Majesty?’

Thysandra was sure of herself.

She was really, very sure of herself. She really, truly knew what she was doing. And yet it took way too much effort to hold his burrowing gaze, to keep her shoulders straight and her wings in place as they ached to curl protectively around her – way too much effort, too, to part her lips and get the words out. ‘A … a few hundred.’

Nicanor blinked.

Next to him, Silas let out the quietest curse beneath his breath.

‘That’s hardly unreasonable, is it?’ Inga brusquely said, glancing back and forth between the two of them so fiercely that blonde strands of hair fluttered around her fae ears. ‘Gods know the empire has killed rather more than a few hundred oftheirpeople, and—’

Nicanor groaned. ‘Thysandra.’

‘Iknow,’ she said, voice too loud, pulse quickening. Fuck. He was the one who needed to act on her decision, the one who could whip the army into obedience if necessary, and she really,reallydid not want to know what would happen if he bluntly refused to follow her orders. ‘I know, but the alternative—’

‘The alternative can hardly be worse than this!’ He plunked his silk-clad elbows onto the table, buried his face in his hands, then desperately added from between his fingers, ‘You’re proposing to actively abandon our own people for the Alliance’s benefit? To not just stop fighting them but to starthelpingthem? You know damn well that not a single inhabitant of this court will accept—'

‘Not a single inhabitant?’ Inga coldlyinterrupted.

Nicanor froze, then cursed and hauled himself straight again, rubbing his temple. ‘Fine. Not a singlefaeinhabitant.’

‘Even then.’ The girl scoffed, glancing at Silas as if to look for support. ‘I don’t know much about the bastards in the army, but from what I’ve seen of my archivist colleagues, I doubt any of them will care if a bunch of murderers get their just desserts. They’ll be happy to avoid another war, if anything.’