Page 45 of With Wing And Claw

‘What were you hoping?’ she rasped, dark blots crowding the edges of her sight.

‘Look, there’ve been … rumours.’ He threw a hurried glance into the corridor, then slammed the door with nothing of his usual icy composure and turned to lean against it. The hand he rubbed over his temple was bloodied, leaving bright red smears behind on his pale skin. ‘I’m not sure who started it – Bereas has been talking a lot, but I don’t think he’s the only one saying … well, you know?’

‘No!’ Her voice cracked. ‘No, Idon’tknow, Nicanor.’

‘Saying that you sold us out,’ he hastily clarified, his blue eyes cautious as he kept his gaze trained on her. As if she might lash out at any moment. As if she might justbethat traitorous bitch the courtwas whispering about. ‘That you helped the Alliance win the battle in return for this court. They’ve been mentioning Echion.’

Echion.

Her gods-damned traitor father.

Worst of all … were they even wrong?

‘But …’ she stammered without knowing what she would say – knowing only that she had to saysomething. ‘But …’

‘I know.’ He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, then looked up again, visibly steeling himself. ‘Thys, I’m really, really sorry I’m even asking this at all, butdidyou betray anything? Even just the smallest bit of information? I’m not saying—’

‘No!’ she shrieked again – too fast, too shrill, sounding like a liar. Her heartbeat was a blur in the tips of her fingers. ‘No, of course I didn’t! You’ve known me for hundreds of years, for hell’s sake – you know me better than that, don’t you?’

His wings and shoulders sagged simultaneously. ‘Yes. Yes, of course I do, but …’

A small, dripping silence stretched between them.

But it was his life on the line as well, she realised belatedly – his reputation, at least, which boiled down to the same thing. If the accusation spread, he would be the Lord Protector who’d bound himself to a treasonous High Lady. Perhaps he’d be spared the hounds, but he’d be dead all the same.

Guilt sunk its teeth into her heart, speeding her already frantic pulse.

‘I told Bereas the same,’ Nicanor finally said, his thin lips twisting into a familiar sneer at the mention of the name. She clung to it with all of her being – more reassuring to see him venomous and calculating than to deal with his uncharacteristic panic and its implications. ‘That you’d be the last person in the world to betray anyone. I just … I just wanted to be sure the Alliance won’t be releasing any damaging information while we’re trying to keep you alive.’

Her throat squeezed shut without warning.

Emelin. FuckingEmelin.

‘If they do, they’re liars,’ she choked out – a pathetic defence against that attack that would be coming sooner or later. ‘Gods know what game they’re playing with us, but—’

‘I know,’ he interrupted, rubbing blood over his forehead, his pale brows. ‘But people will believe them, won’t they?’

They would.

Fuck. She wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to sink onto the floor and curl her wings around herself, wanted to pretend he and his words and Symeon’s bleeding corpse did not exist – fuck, fuck,fuck.

‘What do I do?’ she said instead, voice small like a child’s.

‘I’m not sure.’ He was quiet for a moment but for his pacing footsteps, brisk and restrained. ‘We should probably be careful not to fan the flames right now. Perhaps don’t make any decisions that could be seen as going against the court’s interest for a while. Even if we both know things are more nuanced than that, I doubt Bereas will care much about nuance.’

Oh, yes, she knew what Bereas would have to say about food treaties and human rights – but if shedidn’tdo either of those things …

Emelin told me some immensely interesting things about your time with the Alliance, Inga had said.

Traitor if she helped them. Traitor if she didn’t.

There was no escaping the net as it slowly, mercilessly closed around her.

‘I … I’ll try to keep it in mind.’ Feeble, meaningless words. She barely had a mind left in the first place. ‘I’ll be careful. I’ll …’

She ran out of words again.

Nicanor’s sharp features softened into something she might have called concern if she’d thought him capable of an emotion that altruistic. ‘Do I need to get you back to your rooms?’

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