Page 89 of With Wing And Claw

Naxi’s fingers clawed into her shoulder.

Their lips slammed together.

This time Thysandra almostdidplummet to the ground – her body too occupied, for just one moment, with the urgent press of that sweet mouth against hers to think of trivialities like moving her wings. Air rushed past them. Her stomach slammed into her throat, and still Naxi did not let go; with a small whimper, those soft pink lips parted, and somehow Thysandra’s did the same …

With desperate effort, her wings swept out.

Feet away from the roof beneath them, their freefall slowed.

And still Naxi was kissing her, both small hands clutching Thysandra’s neck, all of her soft, small body pressed perfectly against Thysandra’s hips, breasts, stomach. Her lips tasted of roses. They tasted like the sweet, wine-drenched figs she’d pilfered from the kitchens at lunchtime, hot and wet and utterly intoxicating, and gods have mercy, what was all this air doing around them? Why in the world weren’t they in a bed yet?

Something to do with emergencies. Something to do with ships.

Nicanor.

Oh, fuck.Nicanor.

Thysandra yanked back her head, gasping for air and sense.

The terrace of the court’s main gate stretched out beneath them, maybe two dozen yards below. A small crowd had gathered on the weathered granite, a bloodied fae shape at the centre, and thankfully that attraction appeared to receive more attention than anything happening overhead … but Nicanor had been just behind them. If he’dseen– if he’d caught even the slightest glimpse of this madness—

No, there he was.

Already far beneath them, descending to the terrace in a long, graceful slide.

‘Fuck,’ Thysandra breathed, voice shivery, limbs shivery, the full force of her panic hooking its claws into her chest only now. ‘Fuck. Don’t youever—’

‘Oh,’ Naxi feebly said, glancing at the ground below. ‘We’re almost there already?’

The worst part was that it sounded genuine.

‘Keep your hands off me when we’ve landed,’ Thysandra forced herself to say in an even voice, because roaring out loud in frustrationwoulddraw attention from below, and she did not need a larger audience to see her clutching a frightened demon to her chest. ‘Don’t giggle at me, and don’t youdarecall me anything but Your Majesty with anyone around to hear, do you understand?’

Another whimper. ‘Are you angry with me?’

Yes.

No.

Damn it all – what was she thinking? This was an alliance. Not a relationship. Which meant she only needed Naxi around as long as it advanced her goals. Which meant there was no reason, no reason atall, to make light of this situation or call that kiss anything else than an unforgivably stupid idea.

Wide blue eyes blinked up at her, filled with pleas and almost-tears.

‘We’ll talk later,’ Thysandra ground out as she swept into her final descent.

At least the gathered fae below only noticed her moments before she landed on the granite tiles. At least she managed to shove Naxi from her arms swiftly, and at least she could pretend her mussed hair was a result of her hurried flight rather than any more scandalous activities; she impatiently raked the black-and-gold curls into place as she marched towards the circle and loudly said, ‘Can anyone tell me what’s going on here?’

Better to fake authority than to still feel that kiss on her lips.

The crowd parted instantly around her, whispers and murmurs stilling at once. At the heart of the group, only a blood-stained fae male remained behind on the tiles – the worst of his injuries healed but healed poorly, the gleaming pink scars and tatters of his wings silent witnesses of whatever had befallen him. Nicanor stood mere feet away, knife in his hand, eyes glittering dangerously.

‘What happened?’ she repeated, more sharply now.

‘Your Majesty,’ the wounded fae groaned. ‘Your Majesty, I’m a sailor of the Zephyr – part of your fishing fleet, Your Majesty. We wereambushed this morning. Ship’s sunk. Half … half of the crew is dead. They attacked without warning, Your Majesty – clear blue skies one moment, and the next they were showering us in red—’

They.

Her thoughts stuttered.