Page 43 of With Wing And Claw

Traitor.

Naxi’s stomach rolled with a sudden premonition … and then she was running, to hell with the living trees and the treasures of the Labyrinth waiting for her.

She should not have left Thysandra alone today.

She shouldnothave left Thysandra alone today.

Chapter 11

‘Every singleday?’ Thysandra repeated, her soaring voice echoing along the alabaster corridor. ‘You can’t possibly mean—'

The fae male before her winced but didn’t retreat, even as his gaze cautiously shot back and forth between her and Nicanor by her side. ‘I … I’m just reporting what she said, Your Majesty. I don’t mean to endorse anything, of course.’

Gods help her.

‘Yes, of course,’ she managed through gritted teeth. There were too many people listening for her to lose control of herself, even if a significant part of her felt like crumbling to dust and never getting up again. Dust at least wouldn’t have to deal with sharp-toothed seductresses. ‘I’ll have a word with the demon herself about this. Please continue the report.’

The story came out with much hemming and hawing, none of it particularly relevant but for the confirmation of the Labyrinth’s sentient nature. Somehow, over the course of twenty-four hours, the fact had almost begun to seem like some trivial detail to Thysandra; she neededthe sagging jaws and widening eyes of her audience to remind her it would be the very opposite to all other members of her court.

It might just be for the best. This way, at least they were all too occupied with the news of the Labyrinth to realise they were now stuck with a murderous demon for gods-knew-how-long – until their High Lady found some other way to handle the equally murderous mountain beneath the castle, and unfortunately, the High Lady in question had no idea where to evenstart.

So much for ending this madness.

So much for sleeping in her own bed again.

‘Thank you,’ she cut in as soon as the story had reached its sort-of-end; she wasn’t going to give the gathered flock of fae around her any chance to subside into hysterics again. ‘Glad you’ve all returned home safely. If anyone runs into Anaxia, tell her I want a word with her – and please stay the hell away from her otherwise, will you?’

By the looks on the faces around her, nobody had needed that reminder.

‘Off you go, then,’ she told them.

Off they went.

It was getting easier surprisingly quickly, giving commands as if she deserved to – and odder still, more and more people were actuallylistening. Even with Naxi’s presence hanging over her head, it was hard not to feel a sting of satisfaction as the corridor quieted within seconds. Perhaps it wouldn’t bethatbad to have a demon hovering around. At least now the rest of the world knew there were clear, objective reasons for it that had absolutelynothingto do with Thysandra’s personal preferences, and—

‘Thysandra?’ Nicanor said, holding open the door of the map room for which they’d been headed, politely gesturing for her to go first. ‘Time to get back to work, then?’

It was the hope that did it.

It was the stupid, dewy-eyed notion of things possibly goingwellthat had her stepping through that doorway and into the room without her habitual glances to each side, those checks shealwaysran through before entering any new environment – and it was becauseof that stupid, dewy-eyed negligence that she did not notice the attacker before the first flash of red magic exploded towards her face.

She dodged before she thought.

Battle reflexes took over, dulling everything in the world but the immediate presence of danger, the simple facts of defence and survival. A winged shape lunged from between the cabinets. A knife flashed. She spun around, wing hitting wood, narrowly missing the blade diving for her throat; her own hand fell to her red dress even as her mind whirled to identify those black wings, that dark head of curls. Where the hell had she seen this male before?

Not the time to think. He was already turning back around. Bright crimson shot from her fingertips as she drew the colour from her dress, and destruction slashed her attacker’s wrist, sending his knife clattering to the floor. One more blow and he’d be done for. She aimed, barely hearing Nicanor’s cry of alarm as her focus zoned in on nothing but a vulnerable, dark-skinned throat …

‘Traitor!’ the male before her screeched.

She stiffened.

He leapt forward again.

Red filled her vision in the same moment, and pain splintered through her left shoulder, inches away from her heart. Blood spurted from the wound. Which meant she had to act. She had to actnowand save herself, but—

‘Just like your gods-damned father!’ that half-familiar voice spat.

Father.