Page 2 of With Wing And Claw

There weren’t too many people whose instructions he would follow, even fewer he would smile about. Really, she suspected the number of candidates lay very close to one.

‘By that daughter of yours?’ she numbly guessed.

Silly little Emelin of Cathra, who had turned out to be not so silly at all, or even so little. Half fae and unbound mage, with newly acquired divine powers to boot. If the war was over, if the little vixen had killed the Mother …

Her heart squeezed.

Would the Mother have been dead if no one had told the Alliance how to get rid of the magical bindings that had prevented the rest of the world from using magic against her?

‘By that daughter of mine, yes,’ Agenor said, that same smile flickering across his face again. His snake was cautiously slithering into his hair now, black scales blending seamlessly with equally black curls. ‘I would have objected if I’d thought she was planning to harm you, though. So … are you coming?’

She stared at the calloused hand he held out to her.

Was she coming?

It was a genuine question. Not an unfriendly one, even. It made everything worse, that glimpse of his familiar kindness – because the world had been so simple, so blissfully simple, when she’d been sure one faction in the war was good, the other faction was bad, and she was firmly on the right side of that clear-cut divide. And then that gods-damned letter had arrived two days ago, and here the male she’dthought a devious turncoat stood looking like he was still the same person she’d trusted and respected more than almost anyone else in the cutthroat world of the Crimson Court …

‘If you don’t mean to do me any harm,’ she said hoarsely, ‘then why are my wrists still chained together?’

He pursed his lips. ‘Well, just to name one thing – last time we saw each other, you called me a traitor and a disgrace to faekind and threatened to slit my throat as soon as your hands were free again.’

It was hard not to wince. ‘Yes, but … but …’

But that was before I talked.

She couldn’t bring her lips to shape the words, even though there was nothing new in them, even if he knew as well as she did what had happened in the past two days.That was before the Mother abandoned me and cast me away like a used tool. Before bloody Naxi followed me into this cell, all sweet and soothing sympathy. Before I spilled those secrets I should have known would spell the end of the empire.

Before I became a traitor, too.

‘Yes,’ Agenor said, voice flat, green eyes no doubt reading the thoughts straight from her face. His expression didn’t exactlychange… but it definitely tightened.‘If you want to know, the main reason I’m not releasing you is that a certain half demon warned me you might feel inclined to apply your suggested treatment of defectors to yourself as soon as you were able to. Which I would highly regret, in case that needs to be said.’

Fuck.

It was one thing to be sick of your own existence. For others to be aware of the fact was something else entirely, somehow. She wasn’t sure which demon he was referring to, Creon or Naxi, and didn’t even care that much; both options were equally humiliating.

‘Go to hell,’ she muttered.

‘I’m afraid I’ve got a few more urgent things to do,’ he said, unfazed. ‘Might consider the trip in the future, though. For now, are you ready to leave?’

She bit out a curse andgrabbed his hand.

Her knees were a fraction unsteady when he pulled her to her feet. She gritted her teeth and stood all the same, unwilling to be carried out of her cell like some damsel in distress; by the sound of it, all fellow army commanders who’d survived the last days of the war were gathered in that corridor now, and she’d be damned if she allowed herself to lose their respect so swiftly and easily. If they didn’t yet know what she’d done …

Oh, gods.

What if theyknew?

But she was paid no particular attention as Agenor hoisted her out of her cell, into the throng of alves and fae and vampires. The familiar faces all around her looked more than occupied by their restraints and injuries; she saw Bereas shaking his fist at an unimpressed vampire, saw Imbros clasp a bleeding arm to his chest, saw Nicanor glare his icy glare at the alf female holding the chain attached to his wrists. The few fae who seemed to notice her at all did not bother to greet her. One or two brisk nods were all she was granted at their first confirmation of her survival since she’d been taken captive.

It turns out, the Mother’s letter had said,that Thysandra is perfectly redundant to our court …

Her body went numb again.

Had any of them been aware of it? She couldn’t help but glance around as Agenor positioned her by the wall and strode off with a last muttered apology – couldn’t help but let her gaze wander over the sea of faces she’d known for decades,centuries.Had they ever realised just how little the Mother truly cared about her, or for that matter, about any of them?

Would they still have fought for the empire, had they known?

Perhaps they would have. Perhaps only traitor’s daughters threw aside centuries of loyalty as easily as she had, ignoring duty for some friendly words and something uncomfortably close to reckless lust.

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