Page 116 of With Wing And Claw

‘Thysandra,’ Nicanor said, and for a moment she was sure he’d object to the nomination – that he’d remind her they were already close enough to war without half humans being granted such obviousfavours. But all that came from his mouth instead was a weary, ‘Are you sure it wouldn’t be wiser to stay here for the night?’

Shaking her head was a mistake. The entire world seemed to shake with it.

‘I’ll be perfectly safe in my own room,’ she ground out, struggling her first steps towards the door. It became easier once she was in motion. After all, walking was little more than continuously falling in the right direction; as long as she did not slow down, gravity kept her moving. ‘Demons are helpful for that sort of thing.’

He hesitated behind her. ‘Thys …’

‘Veryhelpful,’ Naxi grumbled, the tap of her light footsteps suggesting she’d hopped off her stool. ‘You can stop talking. I’ll protect her. Might just kill anyone who tries to come between her and her own damn bed, actually.’

Not the moment to laugh.

Thysandra found herself choking on a chuckle all the same.

Wisely, no one else objected – not even Silas, for all his sensible warnings on demons and their games. She turned at the door, just as Naxi caught up with her. Three pairs of eyes were following the two of them, looking …

No, not wary.

Worried.

‘If nothing urgent happens,’ Thysandra said, fighting to form coherent words, ‘I’ll be sleeping in tomorrow. See you around noon.’

And out she stumbled, Naxi like a shadow by her side – into the ominously quiet, ominously deserted corridors of the Crimson Court.

Chapter 25

It was a miracleshe even made it to her rooms.

Every step was a battle, every turn a deadly gamble. Her hands barely remembered how to open her locks. She crashed into her couch without remembering to wipe the heartleaf vines aside first; they slithered out from beneath her as she lay panting in the cushions, their cool caresses all that kept her from slipping into sleep within moments after her head finally hit the worn green velvet.

And it was Naxi, now, who checked her defences.

The lock on the door. The lock on the windows. Every single dagger in the room, and then the door and the windows again – Thysandra’s own routine, and she had not realised just how painfully excessive it was until she saw someone else go through the motions in her place. Naxi wasneverfearful. It made it all the more unsettling to watch her now, moving around the room with a stillness that didn’t seem her own, either – no fidgety fingers, no fluttering locks, her usual air of mischief replaced by a dejection that bordered on dread.

Like a wilted flower, having folded in its petals for the night.

She did not meet Thysandra’s gaze.

Even when she finished her meticulous examination of every corner of the room, she didn’t smile, didn’t speak, didn’t drape herself over the nearest chair with all of her usual breezy confidence. Instead, she scurried into the bedroom like some nocturnal creature fleeing the light, returning a moment later in one of Thysandra’s bathrobes, clutching a pile of towels in her silk-clad arms.

Still without a word, she vanished into the bathroom. The sound of running water emerged a moment later.

Only then did she reappear and make for the couch, finally … but she still did not look up even as she knelt and began to quietly unlace Thysandra’s short boots. Her fingers were her own, and yet they weren’t – small and rosy and nimble, but thevigourseemed to have seeped from their motions. She worked as if her life depended on it, not as if every twitch and pull was born from nothing but utter joy and excitement.

Thysandra hadn’t realised until this moment just how much of that exuberance had seeped into the rhythm of her own heart.

The void it left behind … it was more painful than even the lingering traces of poison.

‘Naxi?’ she tried, voice hoarse.

Those dull blue eyes stubbornly avoided hers. ‘I’m running you a bath.’

‘I … I heard that.’ Fuck. She’d rather deal with five more poison attempts thanthis– the stiffness on Naxi’s face, the eerie flatness of her melodious voice. Was this about their last conversation before the feast?No love or loyalty …but hell, an angry demon wouldn’t be kneeling at her feet to strip off her shoes, would she? ‘I can do that myself, if you—’

Naxi scowled and clasped her hands around the heel of the first shoe without another word, wrenching it off with swift, short movements.

‘Look,’ Thysandra said, fighting to feign an amusement she did not feel, ‘this is a really bad moment to do me any favours, you know. I’m not exactly in a position to bribe anyone with—’

‘Oh, shut up, Sashka,’ Naxi bit out, yankingoff boot number one.