Page 98 of With Wing And Claw

Delwin of Khonna, interim senator of the White City

Helenka of Tolya, on behalf of all nymph queens

Bakaru Sefistrim, King of Kings

Yndrusillitha, acting Eldest of Phurys

Tared Thorgedson, hersir of Skeire, on behalf of all alves

Four sheets of parchment followed, every single inch of them covered in names.

For a full minute, all she could think wasno.

No.

No.

An impossibility. An unthinkability. Not in the way a spectacular, heroic feat was impossible, like facing a demon in battle and walking out of the encounter alive – rather, impossible in the way of flying without wings. They couldn’t ask this of her. They weremadto ask this of her. Didn’t they realise what the response would be – that most fae would rather fight a losing war for another decade than allow themselves to be handed over so easily? A downfall devoid of all glory, and surely she couldn’t—

Do better.

Her mind went still.

These … these were Old Thysandra’s thoughts again, weren’t they?

This was her thinking aboutfaeagain, most of all, about the court’s wishes and opinions – hell, this was her thinking like the Mother’s loyal servant again. She didn’t need to do that. She needed tonotdo that. If she wanted to make things right … what would she do?

She read the letter again.

Closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, then unfolded the name lists attached to the message, and scanned them, too.

Names she knew, belonging to warriors she knew.Allies, part of her still whispered.Your own damn people. And then she thought again, and the sight of those ink-scribbled lines shifted – because gods, of course the Alliance wanted Lycaon after the fortune he’d amassed embezzling tribute payments. Aethra was undeniably guilty of flogging those rebelling phoenixes to death a few decades ago. And she’d had heard whispers about Chimalon before, suggesting he made a habit of stealing human girls away from their homes; why in the world would she let him get away with such crimes? Hell, why hadn’t she throttled the bastard herself long before she’d even received this letter?

Her head spun.

She forced herself to keep reading.

The more names she recognised, the more reasonable the Alliance’s conditions became. They didn’t even demand a punishment ofallfae, the way the Mother would have entire villages wiped out for an individual’s rebellion. They asked only for the ones who did harm. Even better, only the ones who went out of their way to do harm – and really, what justification could she present for the fae who had stolen, maimed, and killed for nothing but their own pleasure and gain?

She did not serve them anymore. She didn’t owe them any fucking protection against the consequences of their own fucking actions.

She’d just have to be very, very careful.

One last time, she read the letter accompanying the lists. Then she firmly folded it in four, slipped it into the hidden sheath in her skirt, and looked up to find Naxi by the stove, a bunch of verbena in one hand and two mugs in the other. The demon’s rosy, knowing smile was entirely her own again.

‘Glad you sat down first?’ she asked brightly.

‘Yes.’ Thysandra straightened her dress, then rose, absently ruffling her tense wings. It was baffling, truly, how easy matters became when she was doing what shewantedto do. With caution, of course. She was a traitor. Not a fool. But all the same …

‘Never mind about the tea for now,’ she added, making for the door. ‘Let’s go see Nicanor.’

‘Ah,’ her Lord Protector airily said as he opened the door for her mere minutes later, dressed this afternoon in a midnight-blue ensemble that was outrageously decadent even by his own, already fairly outrageous standards. The silver embroidery on his coat alone must have taken a handful of seamstresses months to complete. ‘Even more guests? Do come in – I suppose we could all use a party these days.’

‘A … party?’ And only then did she hear the voices emerging from the other side of the door – voices so unexpected that it took her a moment to convince herself she’d identified the timbres correctly.

Silas?

Inga?