Page 46 of With Wing And Claw

‘No need. I’ll fly there.’ The last she needed was for the court to see him haul her up the stairs; it wouldn’t just be a sign of weakness, but a source of unwelcome gossip, too. ‘Get Symeon’s corpse out of here and make someone clean the room. And … and investigate whether he was working with anyone, will you?’

‘He wasn’t the brightest,’ Nicanor said wryly, throwing the young male’s body an icy look. ‘Might have come up with a senseless plan like this all on his own. I’ll check, though.’

‘Thank you.’ Her body seemed to have grown five times heavier as she pushed herself away from the wall, glancing down at the blood soaking her dress and staining her skin. ‘For pulling him off me, too.’

‘Made a bargain.’ He turned his wrist with an elegant flick of his hand, demonstrating the purple mark in his skin – almost back to his usual polished, calculating demeanour, and yet the threads of tension remained there in his every movement. For a moment, she dared to believe he would have saved her even without his magical obligation of loyalty. ‘And I told you I like you more than most people.’

For now.

If he ever found out – her treason, her lies …

‘Thank you,’ she breathed again, staggering to the window.

He didn’t stop her as she swung open the frame and let herself fall out, into the blissful emptiness of the open air.

Her wings swept out to catch her mid-fall, and for a single moment she was weightless and free – as if she could just abandon this mess any moment she wanted, as if she wasn’t chained to the court behind her by her own guilty secrets and Emelin’s vicious scheming. Then her gaze swept over the grounds below, the mountain slopes and the grey-green forest beyond.

Faewood.

Where traitors went to die.

The memory of her father’s death seized her again, crashing over her with such force she nearly lost control of her wingbeats. Why,whywas that cursed execution still haunting her? She hadn’t thought of it in years – indecades– before this hell of a week. Yet here he was, the backstabbing Echion Thenes, rising from the grave to wreck her life all over again …

Although he’d certainly had help this time.

A brand new fury sparked in her veins. She veered off-course just moments before she reached the high, vine-framed windows of her rooms.

What was it she expected to achieve? She wasn’t even sure. But the new rage bubbling from her fear and despair wouldn’t let her donothing, and if she was to find the object of her wrath anywhere, it surely wouldn’t be in the hermetically locked safe haven of her quarters … So into the stairwell of her tower she swept instead, covered in blood and trembling with terrified anger. Up the last dozen steps to her own floor, to find—

‘Sashka!’

Naxi.

Waiting for her.

There was a single glimpse of shining blue eyes and a smile as bright as the midday sun before that blushing face darkened abruptly, demon senses catching up with the storm of emotions that came roaring in. Thysandra didn’t slow. Didn’t take note of the shrill questions and demands for an explanation as she unlocked her door and shoved the both of them inside, away from the prying eyes and ears of the court.

‘There’s blood on your dress!’ Naxi shrieked, struggling against her hold as Thysandra slammed the door shut behind her. ‘Who hurt you?Who hurt—’

‘Shut.Up.’ The rush in her ears was deafening. She dragged the wrestling demon in her arms to the couch, not caring for once about the heated sensation of their bodies pressed together – not when the flames were all anger, all violent fear. Their faces were far too close as she threw Naxi into the cushions, and she couldn’t be bothered about that, either. All that mattered was the rage boiling within her – at her father, yes, but her father was dead, and here before her sat the one other culprit to blame for this predicament that would kill her …

‘Why?’ she heard herself gasp, chest heaving, hands clawing into thin, pale shoulders. ‘Why did you have to turnmeagainst the Mother, you fucking blight?’

Chapter 12

Beneath her, Naxi’s eyeswidened abruptly, the bright blue of her irises darkening with what might be shock or understanding or hurt.

Thysandra did not fucking care.

‘Youknew.’ The words spilled from her lips like burning acid. ‘You knew where I was coming from – you knew what I’d survived at this court – and you still decided to hook your cursed little claws into me? Could have captured fuckinganyoneand tortured them until they talked, and instead you had to pick—’

‘Oh,’ Naxi said breathlessly. ‘Oh, but that’s not true. We needed someone who knew about the bindings.’

‘—the traitor’s daughter, of all people?’ she seethed, unwilling or unable to deal with such unwelcome reason right now. ‘They didn’t trust me already! Not really! And then you and your fucking friends had to mess with my head until I caved, and then you threw this fucking court into my lap to make everythingworse. Of course they’ll think I’m just like him! Of course they’ll think it’s just history repeating itself, just—’

‘Thysandra,’ Naxi muttered.

Nothing else.