Page 88 of With Wing And Claw

‘It is definitely not enough loyalty for face-sitting yet,’ Thysandra said, making desperate attempts to keep her expression under control and managing very poorly. She was supposed to be gathering allies, damn it. She needed to have a stern chat with her army commanders, worry about island defences, figure out what to do with a rogue uncle making bargains all over the place … but then there were the memories of last night, freedom and pleasure and pretty pink lips on hers, and suddenly courtly matters no longer seemed so urgent at all. ‘Honestly, I would say this earns you a single finger at best.’

The outrage in Naxi’s scoff was a work of art. ‘Oh, I deserve atleastthree fingers, Sashka. Do you have any idea how delicious Silas’s inner turmoil was? It took aneffortnot to say anything about it!’

‘Two?’ Thysandra suggested, struggling to maintain her businesslike voice as last night’s fire reignited at her core.

‘Hmm.’ A narrow-eyed glance. ‘If I’m supposed to stay loyal for two mere fingers, you’d better make sure I get them inside me at your earliest convenience.’

She had a busy day.

She was still surviving.

‘We have a deal, then,’ she heard herself say, stepping back from the stained-glass windows, away from any passing eyes. Her fingers tested the nearest doorhandle and found it unlocked. ‘And – entirely unrelated – don’t you agree this is an excellent moment to inspect these very private, very deserted classrooms?’

A dirty bribe, yes … but as long as it lasted, would it be so bad if she enjoyed it, too?

‘Look, it was amisunderstanding,’ Imbros of Imbrias’s house repeated for the fourth time, pacing back and forth across the soldiers’ barracks where Thysandra had found him. ‘Nicanor told us that the humans needed protection, alright? So we took a look at Rustvale and Greyside and a few other villages, didn’t see any trouble, and went back home. Of course, if we’dknownwhat was truly going on at the archives …’

He plucked his glass of wine off the table, took a swig, and shook his head in silence like a male filled to the brim with regrets.

‘If you’d known?’ Thysandra prompted, unmoved by this dramatic show of remorse.

‘Well.’ He plopped down his wine again and turned towards her with guileless eyes, as if it was a joke to even ask the question. ‘Orders are orders, aren’t they?’

‘And I expect my commanders to showsomecommon sense when interpreting said orders,’ she sharply retorted, keeping her eyes trained on his hands and the menacing cherry red of his shirt. He might attack. She had no doubt she would be faster, though. ‘If you’d rather return to your boozing than spend five minutes finding out what’s expected of you, I don’t—’

Two walls away, a door slammed.

Outside the room, Naxi’s voice erupted in vehement objections.

Thysandra spun around without thinking, a knife already in her hand. The barracks door burst open before she’d even completed the movement, and Nicanor swept inside in a storm of icy blue and black damask – out of breath, wings flaring wide, ignoring Naxi’s shrill protests behind him with almost suicidal disregard.

‘Thysandra!’

Only then did she realise his hands were covered in fresh, red blood.

‘What’s going on?’ She threw a wild look at the door, Imbros and his wine forgotten at once. ‘Did anyone attack the court? Are you—’

‘Not the court.’ He bent over, gasping for air. His trousers were bloodied too, she realised only then – his shirt as well, and yet he didn’t seem hurt himself. ‘It’s the ships. Fishermen. Think … think you’ll want to take a look.’

Her feet were already moving.

It was disconcerting how instinctively her hand wrapped around Naxi’s wrist in passing, how little thought it took for her to yank that lithe nymph-like body into her arms as her wings swept out. Naxi’s shocked cry barely reached her ears. A dive at the window and they were out and flying. To their left, the deserted training fields shot by; to their right, the gleaming red walls of the castle rose over them like a tidal wave about to crash down.

‘Entrance hall!’ Nicanor hollered behind them.

She slammed her wings against the breeze, climbing higher.

‘Sashka!’ Naxi squeaked in her arms, little hands digging like claws into her forearm. Only then did Thysandra realise they’d never flown together before. Hell, that a demon without wings or a large number of winged friends may very well never have flown at all. ‘Sashka, if youdropme—’

‘I’m not dropping you,’ she said through gritted teeth, quickening her wingbeats as they soared past the first row of towers.

‘Itfeelslike you’re dropping me!’

‘That’s called gravity.’ She scanned the blue horizon before them – where the hell were those ships Nicanor had mentioned? – then had to abruptly move her focus back to the warm weight in her arms when Naxi shifted without warning. ‘Anddon’tmove. If you start wiggling, I actually might drop you, alright?’

Naxi wailed, squeezed her eyes shut, and wiggled harder.

‘For fuck’s sake.’ She barely managed to grab a thin knee before both the demon’s legs slid from her right arm’s grip. Yards and yards beneath them, the castle’s roofs slid by at dizzying speed. ‘Calmdown. Think happy thoughts if you need to. Like poisoning Nicanor, orkilling—’