Page 20 of With Wing And Claw

Fuck.

A hundred-and-thirty years and a series of betrayals should have been more than enough to purge this madness from her veins … yet here she stood, High Lady of the Crimson Court itself, battling the urge to yank the door open again and kiss the gods-damned little menace on those gods-damned silky lips until she was no longer capable of laughing at anything.

‘I can still feel you!’ Naxi yelled from within the room, sounding delighted.

Fuck.

She forced herself into motion with a shuddering jerk – down the winding stairs, away from those demon senses picking up on every spark of senseless lust burning inside her. Perhaps she would be more rational with a few more walls between them. Perhaps she wouldmanage to stop thinking of all that delicate prettiness, of that bloodstained fragility so very different from the swaggering and the posturing of—

‘Well, well,’ a male voice drawled, far too close. ‘No more demons with you, I see?’

She swept around so fast her left wing slammed into the balustrade.

He’d taken up position in a shallow alcove a few steps back – Bereas of Bereon’s house, prize-fighter and sixty-something-time champion of the yearly wing-racing tournament. With his flaming red hair and wings to match, he’d inspired more than a few joking comparisons to the phoenixes living on the east side of the archipelago … except the phoenixes were known for their poise and prudence, of course, and the male slouching smugly on that marble seat didn’t possess a crumb of either quality.

How in the world had she overlooked him? If he’d snuck up on her with malicious intent, she’d already be dead.

‘Is anything the matter?’ she bit out, all the more coldly to cover up the shock.

‘The demon.’ He crossed his ankle over his knee as he leaned back, his wings filling almost all of the alcove. ‘She’s no longer with you. Do I understand correctly that you put her in yourbedroom, of all places?’

The smirk on his face was alarming. Admittedly, this was Bereas, who could turn even a brutal battle into a vulgar joke … but on the other hand, if he continued to do so often enough, someone with a little more cunning would sooner or later start asking questions.

Best to nip it in the bud as soon as possible. She folded her arms, chin raised a fraction, and flatly said, ‘Would you rather have me put her in yours?’

‘I’d rather see her dead,’ Bereas retorted, thrusting out his chest like a bird puffing itself up for a fight. ‘Why the hell isn’t she yet?’

None of your fucking business, she wanted to inform him. Or alternatively,Because I still need her to kill you if you make a fuss, which was not even that far from the truth. But the bastard was popular at the court, and among the ranks of the army in particular. Pissing him off in such an unnecessary way was just asking for trouble.

‘The demon alleges she’s here on behalf of the Alliance,’ she said instead, aiming for just the right note of disapproval – that tone that would hopefully tell the male before her that she was just as unhappy about the meddling as he would be. ‘I need to look into that claim before I make any further decisions. I’m not itching to anger Emelin to the point where she returns to destroy the castle after all.’

‘Emelin?’ His cocky grin showed his unnaturally white teeth. ‘Oh, don’t you worry abouther, Thys. We’ve spent all night feeding traitors to the hounds and preparing for the next battle, so if the little mongrel thinks she can—’

‘Beg your pardon?’ Thysandra sharply cut in, and it took the greatest of efforts to keep her voice from soaring as the memories flashed by. Father. Hounds. Agonised screams. ‘Thenextbattle? What next battle are we talking about, exactly?’

‘The one to take back our islands?’ He leaned forward so that his sleeveless shirt fell open at the collar – that shirt she was quite sure he wore for the sole purpose of displaying his bulky, tanned shoulders to as many eyes as possible. ‘What else would we be doing?’

Gods help her.

It was reckless, overconfident madness, of course – the brash strategy of a male so used to winning that the notion of defeat didn’t even occur to him. Which didn’t need to be her problem, technically speaking. Had it been only him and his circle of equally brazen friends, she might have happily let them fly to their death.

The problem, though …

Emelin would take note of the attack. And possibly, quite possibly, she would find it enough of a reason to spread those damning secrets among the court, the traitor’s daughter following in her traitor father’s footsteps – as close to murder as simple words could come.

Fed to the hounds …

Her pulse was quickening.

Her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

‘And who gave you permission to do any of that, may I ask?’ she bit out. ‘I don’t recall saying anythingabout—'

‘Why the hell should I care about your permission, Thys?’ Another blinding white grin. ‘If you’re afraid of a bunch of rebels, I don’t see why I ought to be afraid of you. Just because some bratty child handed you a title for no fucking reason at all?’

‘That bunch of rebels,’ she said through gritted teeth, ‘are the same people who defeated you in battle three days ago. Who are currently wielding godsworn magic. Who are no longer held back by the Mother’s bindings, either. I’m not afraid of them, but I sure as hell know what we’re up against, and it isn’t pretty – so whatever our plans are, don’t you think we ought to be going about them with alittlemore circumspection?’

Bereas emphatically yawned, planting his feet back onto the ground. ‘Lovely speech, Thys. Are you going to let us into your bedroom to slit the demon’s throat, then?’