Page 90 of With Wing And Claw

Only one group he could be talking about … but that did not make sense, did it? Why would Bereas ever bother to harm the court’s fishing fleet, of all things? Even at the height of the Mother’s war preparations, those vessels had never been enlisted to assist the empire’s navy – small ships that had never been built to inflict or withstand any violence at all. They didn’t fight. They just—

They brought in food.

Cold dread rose in her.

‘Do you …’ She already knew the answer, and yet shehadto ask – as if feigning ignorance might still change the inevitable facts. ‘Do you know who they were, exactly?’

Everyone knew, and yet the pulse of silence was heavy with anticipation.

‘Bereas,’ the wounded sailor rasped, hoarse and furious. ‘My daughter is obsessed with wing-racers, Your Majesty. I would recognise those fucking wings anywhere.’

So it was true.

Her foremost enemy, reappearing not to attack the heavily defended Crimson Court itself, but rather the vulnerable resources on which her peace depended.

It was clever. It was vicious. Most of all, it was an indication of more long-term thinking than she’d thought the bastard capable of – hell, had she been underestimating him? Was there an actualplanbehind the seemingly random outbursts of violence she’d seen from him so far, a strategy she’d simply overlooked?

Then what was she to do now?

That age-old voice was still there in the back of her head – that voice that said,hide, hide, hide, that knew no words but the safe, stifling darkness of the world beneath her blankets. She knew what Old Thysandra would have done. Diplomacy. Compromise. Already she could seeherself sitting at a table with Bereas, trying desperately to find some middle ground –fine, but you can kill no more than ten humans a year …

She’d probably have thought it a fairly reasonable deal, too.

Eyes, so many eyes watching her as she stood there on the smooth black tiles and tried to keep thinking straight … Hell, how many of these people were secretly glad for the attack? How many of them would support all violence as long as it did not harm their own skin? How many of them couldn’t wait for the rebels to return and take control of the court?

And if she didn’t let them … how long would she survive?

She swallowed and tasted roses.

And just like that the world was clear again, the lingering flavour on her tongue like a whack to the head – because shestillwasn’t a fool, and damn it all, she still had her hard-won allies and her thought-out plans, didn’t she? She didn’t need totellher audience that she was choosing the side of the rest of the world over theirs. There was no need to out herself as a traitor just yet.

She simply needed to act.

‘Nicanor?’ she said.

Her Lord Protector merely tilted his head.

‘It appears that our friend Bereas has forgotten it’s bad form to attack one’s own people.’ She stepped back, sending the flocks of fae a joyless, reassuring smile she was quite sure they did not need. ‘Please scale up the court’s defences to their highest level of alertness. We will need to stop him if he intends to make that same mistake again.’

Chapter 20

‘Sash— Your Majesty. YourMajesty.’ Naxi’s voice, quiet but shrill, caught up with her before she’d even reached the castle gates through the steadily thickening throng of fae pouring out. ‘Your— Oh, come on, slowdown! I have short legs!’

Short legsandstupidly delicious lips. Thysandra smoothly circumvented a group of armed fae jogging towards Nicanor, then finally crossed the castle’s doorstep and into the magnificent hall beyond without looking back. There were even more eyes here. On the other hand, more walls and doors within reach, too, and she’d prefer to have at least a few of those around before daring to meet her pursuer’s gaze again.

‘Thysandra!’

She walked even faster.

Around her, feverish whispers rose from the crowd, the news moving swifter than even the fastest pair of wings. No one accosted her directly, though – not yet. Whether it was due to the little demon trailing behind her or her general dubious reputation, she wasn’t sure; either way, it wasn’t inconvenient.

It took a minute or two before she finally spotted an open door between the flutters of wings, coats, and dresses. Another minute before she managed to reach it in a manner that did not give the impression of a flight. The small powder room was mercifully deserted, at least, just a circle of velvety chairs, two walls of gilded mirrors, and an imposing assortment of hair brushes, perfumes, and wing powders on the tables. She slipped in, unable to hold back a sigh of relief, and rested the back of her head against the brocade-covered walls as she waited for Naxi to join her.

Ten counts of rest were all she was granted. Then the door clicked shut, the noise abruptly quieted, and Naxi’s high, breathless voice squeaked, ‘Sashka!’

She closed her eyes.

The wall was blissfully cool and stable.

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