Page 105 of With Wing And Claw

It was more of a comfort than it had any right to be.

She was still fastening her necklace – a single ruby pendant resting like a drop of blood against her bosom – when knuckles hit the door to her rooms. Nicanor’s voice made its way in a second later. ‘Thysandra?’

‘A moment!’ she yelled back, then turned to Naxi and started, ‘Now you’llhaveto—’

Unexpectedly, Naxi had already darted out of bed.

In the blink of an eye, she snatched her discarded dress off the floor and yanked it over her head; one more blink, and she’d hoisted a blanket and a pillow into her arms, hauled them to the living room, and dropped them on the couch. Thysandra was still reeling from that cunning little bit of consideration after the door had been opened and Nicanor had stepped into the room, looking ever so slightly unnerved by the sight of a beaming Naxi ushering him in.

Waiting, she’d said.

For Nicanor? That seemed spectacularly unlikely. But the Lord Protector – dressed in impeccable Hunter’s Moon colours, a black coat set with rubies and a blood-red ribbon in his hair – was holding a linen-wrapped package under his arm.

‘Not sure what this is about,’ he started as he closed the door behind him, uncharacteristically neglecting to greet either of them, ‘butThorgedson showed up in the crystalline hall a moment ago, claiming this was to be delivered to—’

‘To me!’ Naxi brightly interrupted.

Nicanor narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What is in it? If it’s anything that might be remotely dangerous, I—’

‘I don’t need help to be dangerous,’ she said, rolling her eyes at him. ‘It’s my new dress.’

This time Nicanor was not the only one to stare at her.

‘What?’ She snatched the package from his hands and clutched it to her chest, eyes challenging him to try and take it back. ‘Hunter’s Moon is black and red and silver, yes? I don’t have any black dresses. Or red dresses. Emelin made me a new one. Now if you’ll excuse me …’

‘Emelin?’ Nicanor repeated, voice soaring.

‘What?’ Thysandra heard herself say.

‘She’s very good at that sort of thing,’ Naxi breezily informed them both, then unceremoniously dumped the bundle of fabric onto the floor, dropped to her knees beside it, and began to tear the ribbons away as if they were eyes to be scratched out. ‘I told her— Oh,look! It’s soshiny!’

Nicanor was staring at her blankly now.

‘It’s shiny andsoft!’ A shimmering black creation emerged from the undyed linen, gossamer fabric rippling around those restless little hands. ‘And the sleevesare puffy! Andfluffy! Sashka,lookat it!’

Thysandra was still too busy recovering from the notion of Emelin – godsworn, Mother-killing Emelin – spending her time sewing dresses … but thankfully Naxi did not seem to care much about anyone’s responses as she gushed and gasped and giggled, turning the dress over and over in her hands. Nicanor looked equal parts dumbfounded and disturbed as he cautiously backed away from her, making his way to the bedroom door instead, where Thysandra still stood frozen in her tracks.

Beneath his breath, barely audible over Naxi’s squealing, he murmured, ‘You’re alright?’

That was evenmoreof a shock.

Nicanor? Inquiring after herwellbeing? For a moment she found herself wondering whether this might be some delayed seduction attempt … but then, if his goal was to get her into his bed again, why wouldn’t he have started his campaign for her heart weeks ago?

‘You’re usually around sooner,’ he clarified, not raising his voice. ‘Before everyone returns from Faewood, at least.’

Oh.

He wasactuallyconcerned?

‘I, um …’ She shook her head with a joyless little laugh, attempting to clear her mind. Naxi’s elated giggling on the other side of the room held a little too much resemblance to the breathless sounds she’d made with Thysandra’s head between her thighs. ‘I … I thought this might be a good moment to write to the Alliance with a quick progress report. Took me longer than expected.’

He considered her for a moment, then nodded and averted his gaze. ‘Please be careful at the feast tonight, Thys.’

This was getting more and more unnerving.

‘I’m always careful,’ she countered, reflexively – the easiest shield to hide her stuttering heart. Worry was weakness. Weakness was death. Except that he should know the same thing, and it made it all the more unlike him to be so visibly anxious; the haunted look in those icy blue eyes was one she’d rarely seen before. ‘Why? Did anything happen at the hunt?’

‘Three people accidentally shot an arrow at my face,’ he said, lips pressing together into a thin line. ‘And someone was asking me why I visited Ilithia yesterday, although I don’t think they actually saw me there – not sure who did, though. I know you said not to tell them anything about the arrests, but—’

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