Page 164 of With Wing And Claw

It was a brightwinter day at the Crimson Court, and Naxi was having the time of her life.

She was, admittedly, having the time of her life almost always these days – but this particular occasion was even better than average. Today, her friends were visiting her new home. And not in some faraway gallery either, stashed away like a shameful secret; Thysandra had called half the court together to witness the historic events about to take place in their midst. A horde of scribes and archivists. Farmers from the other fae isles. Every fae construction worker who’d spent the last few months cleaning up rubble in human cities.

Everyone, really, except the pitiful remains of the Crimson Court’s army. The few commanders who had been invited for politeness’ sake looked uncomfortably out of place amongst the many guests who’d arrived from the other magical peoples.

‘… observe the sovereignty of each individual island as stated by its ruler or rulers …’ Thysandra was saying at the table at the centre of the hall, reading from the parchment in her hands, voice loud enough to be heard in the farthest corners.

She had to sit there with the rest of her visitors, of course, High Lady or no. It would be a grave insult to invite representatives from all over the archipelago and then have them stand before the brand new throne of the Crimson Court like children called to face the headmaster. Since that meant the throne in question was left vacant, however, Naxi had generously taken it upon herself to fill it; curled up in the comfortable seat of red-brown wood, fuzzy shawl around her shoulders against the chilly winter air, she was in the perfect position to observe both the proceedings and the exquisite curve of Thysandra’s backside.

One had to treat oneself every now and then.

‘Furthermore,’ Thysandra continued, calm and unwavering as she flipped a page, ‘the court pledges to lend all requested assistance to the ongoing investigations into wartime crimes committed by its inhabitants …’

On the left side of what was now called the Labyrinth’s Hall, dangerously close to a group of alves, a red-clad army commander stirred noticeably. Naxi narrowed her eyes at him, just in case he gave the impression he was in need of a sudden and painful death – but at the side of the representatives’ table, Silas had already levelled a glare at the troublemaker and pointedly tapped a bargain mark on his forearm. The disturbance instantly melted away again.

Thysandra had noticed too, Naxi knew from the little spike of alertness stuttering through her veins. But she had not stopped reading, and the alertness was just … that.

Not alarm.

Definitely not fear.

It had been a while since Naxi had truly sensed fear from her. She intended to keep it that way.

Listening with half an ear to the summary of the treaty the company was about to sign, she let her gaze drift past the table – Tared sent her a quick grin, Emelin a broad smile – and then around the hall, which was cold and resplendent in the clear winter light. Thysandra had wanted it razed to the ground at first, after Nicanor’s timely and crispy end. The Labyrinth had been a little grumpy at the prospect, though, and Naxihad pointed out that the poor thing would be horribly bored without any company to listen to – so instead, they’d renovated the place.

The marble floor had been partly restored now, leaving a generous opening to the cave below. Blood-red, nymph-grown roses adorned the alabaster walls. The ceiling, burned away by the explosion that had killed Nicanor and most of his allies, had been replaced by a grand glass dome, allowing the Labyrinth to gaze at the stars at night.

Last week, Naxi had taken a small company of adventurous fae youths down with her for the very first time. They had gasped breathless compliments at every step along the way and meant most of them, too; the mountain had been enormously pleased.

It seemed quite pleased now too, judging by the bright white-blue light glowing in the cave beneath as Thysandra finally finished, ‘… for eternity, or until any of these oaths are broken. If there are any objections to these rulings …’

The red-clad army commander wisely did not move this time. Nor did any of the seven other representatives around the table. A little cheer came from the ranks of the clerks who’d worked tirelessly for weeks to get every single word and number in the right place; a ripple of laughter pulsed around the hall in response, breaking the solemn tension.

‘I’ll consider that all the approval we need,’ Thysandra dryly said, picking up the pile of parchment that contained eight copies of the meticulously worded, painstakingly negotiated peace treaty between the Crimson Court and not just the other magical peoples, but the two other fae courts as well. ‘Shall we sign these things, then?’

‘Thought you’d never ask,’ Tared said, his grin almost entirely amiable. Thysandra had gone to great lengths to find the swords that had been looted during the massacre of Skeire among the court’s significant alf steel reserves; returning those to the family had improved relations with remarkable speed. ‘Pretty sure Em’s getting hungry.’

‘Oh, was thatyourstomach?’ the High Lady of the Cobalt Court countered sweetly as she reached for a pen. ‘I thought it was the Labyrinth grumbling.’

Delwin snorted. Agenor was making an unsuccessful attempt not to laugh. Drusa pursed her lips in obvious disapproval, then picked up her own pen when she did not find anyone else to share in her well-mannered rage; her fingers were stiff with displeasure as she signed her copy of the treaty.

For a minute or so, the scratching of pens and the clinking of ink pots was the only sound to be heard. Naxi decided it was time to hop off her throne, so she did – bouncing down the steps and then towards the others over the pleasantly smooth floor. A pile of half-signed agreements was piling up on the table before Thysandra, who needed to sign seven copies rather than a single one; Naxi recognised Agenor’s messy hand, Emelin’s slightly dramatic flourish, Bakaru’s initials as noted down by Nenya.

‘Can I sign too?’ she asked, because now that she was seeing that list of names, this all looked like great fun.

‘What?’ Drusa said sharply.

‘Of course you can sign,’ Thysandra said, entirely unperturbed, as she handed Naxi a pen over her shoulder.

The phoenix eldest’s eyes widened with outrage. ‘This ismostunprecedented and—’

‘You can sign my copy too, Naxi,’ Emelin cheerfully interrupted.

‘Mine too, please,’ Tared added, although the spark of spiteful glee within him suggested it was for the benefit of Drusa’s fury as much as for Naxi’s pleasure. She was perfectly alright with that. She’d never liked any of the phoenix rulers, and Drusa made Lyn feel terrible, which meant a little anger was the least she deserved. ‘Can’t hurt to have a demon on the treaty.’

Naxi glowered at him. ‘Halfdemon.’

His smile went a little rueful. ‘Sorry. Half demon.’

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