Page 166 of With Wing And Claw

That, too, would be better discussed on literally any other occasion.

Naxi didn’t interrupt the two of them. The last months had been fraught enough – no sense in disrupting things while they were going well.

She found Inga and Agenor near the end of the table, accompanied by two empty seats and a tanned human man who looked to be in his late forties. Inga broke off their conversation the moment Naxi appeared, her face pink with either happiness or tipsiness or both, and there was only a small and habitual wince of fear inside her as she beamed one of her rare true smiles. ‘Naxi! Have you met Russ? My sort-of-brother?’

‘You have a lot of sort-of family members,’ Naxi observed, squinting at the man in question. His sturdy build didn’t resemble Inga’s slender form in the slightest, nor did he look like Allie; it seemed unlikely he was her brother by birth. ‘Is that a human thing?’

‘More of a vampire thing, these days,’ Russ said with a faint grin, and Agenor almost choked on his wine beside him. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’

‘The pleasure is mutual,’ Naxi said politely because that was what one was supposed to say, and anyway, she didn’t think she was going to have a problem with him. Inga seemed to like him. Agenor seemed to like him. If those two agreed, it quite had to be justified. ‘May I take this seat?’

‘Go ahead,’ Inga said, nudging back one of the empty chairs with her foot. ‘We’re mostly waiting until Al is done interrogating Silas about his honourable intentions, but that could take a while. She’s only been going for ten minutes or so.’

Russ and Agenor grimaced in perfect synchronicity.

Only then did Naxi spot the Lord Protector of the Crimson Court in a quieter corner of the hall, six and a half feet tall and about halfas broad, looking decidedly sweaty about the unimpressed glares the thin-limbed, sharp-fanged Lady of the Golden Court was levelling at him. Naxi hadn’t seen him this unsettled since Thysandra had bestowed his new position upon him a few months ago, and that might have had more to do with Inga threatening to gut him if he didn’t stay and accept the office.

‘He’ll survive,’ the girl now said, airily. ‘At least he didn’t activelyservethe Mother in the last four centuries, you know? She’s been known to forgive people for worse.’

Agenor winced. ‘More wine, anyone?’

They drank more wine.

Silas was called away to deal with a disturbance a few minutes later; Naxi had rarely seen a male so deeply relieved by the prospect of potential danger. The small tussle on the other side of the hall looked rather harmless – a few rowdy alves getting on the nerves of their fae neighbours – but she quickly checked Thysandra’s emotions regardless. If there was any fear there, it would be time to kill a few people and make a point.

There was no fear, just awareness and a pleasant layer of trust in Silas’s ability to handle matters. Excellent.

Naxi turned back to her wine just in time to see Allie fall into the seat beside Agenor, her smile still showing a hint of fang. The full extent of her assessment was a measured, ‘Well, that could have been a lot worse.’

‘I knew you’d like him,’ Inga said fondly.

‘I’ve just come to accept that I sent the whole family down a path of terrible taste in men,’ Allie said, throwing her a grin. ‘Speaking of which, where did my beloved daughter and her own terrible man vanish to?’

‘Thys had something to discuss with them.’ Agenor gave half a shrug. ‘I’m not sure where they went next.’

Thysandra?

Naxi frowned and glanced at the other side of the table. Her High Lady was engrossed in an animated conversation with two nymphqueens; there was no trace of either Emelin or Creon to be seen around the hall.

Shame. Then again, Naxi could ask Creon about important topics like kittens and the domestication of hound puppies later. If Thysandra needed to get something done, she presumably had good reason for it.

Naxi nestled herself more comfortably in her chair and let the cheerful sound of voices wash over her.

It was past midnight by the time the last visitors left the Crimson Court; even most fae had vanished to their beds by then, and only Calaria’s army of organisers was still swarming through the hall, clearing out dirty plates and glasses. Emelin and Creon had reappeared shortly before leaving. They had exchanged a last few words with Thysandra, then run off again with nothing but a wave at Naxi by way of goodbye – mysterious, but she was drowsy with wine and good company, and sooner or later she’d get her answers anyway.

Thysandra found her then, exhaustion in every fibre of her, but the light in her dark eyes no less bright for it. There was, Naxi had come to realise, a world of difference between the exhaustion of losing a game and the exhaustion of working to win one.

Thysandra was winning a lot these days.

She did not sit down now, instead resting her hands on the back of Naxi’s chair so she could press a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Feeling happy?’

Naxi suppressed a contented yawn. ‘Are you reading emotions now?’

‘Not at all,’ Thysandra said dryly. ‘You just look like you’re about to start purring. Do you think you can handle one more surprise for the night?’

Faster than expected. Naxi tilted her head back, squinting up, and said, ‘What sort of surprise, exactly?’

‘That’s not how surprises work.’ A small pause. ‘I can promise you it’s nothing dead, though.’