Page 21 of With Wing And Claw

‘What?No.’ The bargain mark on her wrist likely wouldn’t even let her – and surelythatwas the reason her stomach knotted so abruptly at the idea, wasn’t it? ‘You wouldn’t survive the attempt in the first place, and even if—’

‘Alright.’ He shrugged and rose, raking a hand through his wine-red locks as he smirked at her one last time. ‘I’ll go find some friends to break down the walls, then. Enjoy that title as long as you manage to keep it, love.’

And with two slaps of those famous, prize-winning wings, he elbowed past her as if she was no more than a powerless inconvenience.

***

Her flight to the north-west tower was, objectively speaking, more of a free fall.

Her heart thrummed frantically in her chest – a panic thathadto be bargain-born, the pink mark on her chest reminding her that she’d taken on a life-and-death obligation to protect the little demon currently taking a bath in her chambers. Even though Naxi surely would be able to handle a handful of musclehead fae. Even though walls could be repaired and doors could be replaced. Reassurances she could repeat to herself as often as shewanted …

And yet.

What if she returned to her tower to find the bathroom stained with blood and strewn with pink hairs, some leftover shreds of a flowery dress, and not even a body to be found?

Fed to the hounds.

She slammed down onto the wrought-iron balcony she’d aimed for, all but yanking open the door that gave access to the room beyond. To her surprise, it was unlocked. Which seemed too good to be true, on this hell of a morning … but as she staggered to a halt in the familiar office-turned-laboratory, looking around wildly for attackers in wait for her, Nicanor’s voice emerged from the adjoining room as if he’d been expecting visitors.

‘Thysandra?’ He sounded so unhurried she wanted to shake something. ‘Is that you?’

‘How’d you fucking guess?’ she snapped, out of breath, as she slammed the door behind her and wilted against the glass and wood.

A soft laugh, and he ambled into the room – having changed out of his bloodstained clothes and into a pale lilac ensemble with lacy sleeves and intricate silver embroidery. She should have known that would be his first priority after alerting her to the murders of the night: restoring his usual faultless appearance.

‘I figured you might be in need of some assistance,’ he said, which told her all she needed to know about the state ofherappearance. ‘A drink?’

She glared at the wall-filling brass-and-glass construction to her right, where a plethora of crystal flasks and beakers stood gleaming in the morning sunlight – some of them bubbling, some of them steaming slightly, most of them corked and waiting patiently for their contents to be used. There was always a certain risk involved with accepting this particular male’s drinks. Even if the large table at the heart of the room was mostly empty at the present moment, the lack of notes and formulas was all but a guarantee he wasn’t looking to test any revolutionary new potions on unsuspecting suspects.

‘Don’t worry,’ Nicanor dryly added, following her gaze. ‘We’re in the middle of a war. I’ve paused my experiments for the moment.’

That made enough sense for her to believe him. ‘Could use a drink, in that case.’

He poured her a glass of elderflower juice. Their fingers didn’t touch as he pressed the crystal into her hand – no attempts at seduction, then, or at least not yet. Thank the gods. She didn’t want to know what Naxi would do if he made an earnest attempt.

Would Bereas have gathered his friends yet?

Hell, should she have returned to her bedroom to warn Naxi first, before running off to look for allies?

‘Handled matters with the demon?’ Nicanor said, interrupting her frantic thoughts.

‘More or less.’ She sank onto one of the high stools at his table and gulped down a swig of juice – winning time to think rather than quenching her thirst. How much information was enough to answer his questions, but too little for him to draw any dangerous conclusions? ‘I had a word with her. She isn’t going to kill anyone else for now, assuming no one attacks her.’

He seated himself on the other side of the table, lips pursed, his own glass hanging askew between his long fingers. ‘Made a bargain on it, I see.’

‘You and those eyes of yours,’ she muttered.

Another of those faint laughs. ‘Why isn’t she dead yet?’

‘Because killing a demon isn’t what one would call a pleasant affair,’ Thysandra said tightly, trying to make herself believe it. Surely gods-damned Bereas wouldn’t manage so easily, either? ‘Also, she claims she’s here with the Alliance’s approval, which suggests there’s some risk involved in killing her. And I’ve been thinking …’

She hesitated, unsure if the next thought was too close to treason, close enough to make him wonder what other disloyal ideas she might be hiding. Nicanor smiled before she could come to a decision, though.

‘And she might be useful, under certain circumstances?’ he suggested.

Thank the gods for his particular brand of ruthless pragmatism. ‘Yes. That too.’

‘Hmm.’ He sipped from his drink. ‘Bold.’