Page 122 of With Wing And Claw

Mere hours passed between her request for a meeting and their collective agreement; from then, it was a matter of minutes. The sun was just about to rise when she donned the only dark blue dress in her possession – as close to a declaration of peace as her wardrobe could come – and left her rooms with Naxi, who had insisted on wearing a matching shade of frothy eggshell blue for the occasion.

A short night of sleep had not been nearly enough to feel all hale and hearty again. But at least Thysandra was able to walk without stumbling and talk without stammering; the persistent ache in her muscles, like the lingering effects of particularly strenuous training, was a mild nuisance in comparison. She’d fought under worse circumstances. And if all went according to plan, there would be no need for her to fight anyone at all – not for another few hours, in any case, and by then the poison would have worn off even further.

The castle was as quiet as it always was around dawn, even the prospect of violent rebellion not enough to keep most fae from theirbeds. Guided by Naxi’s demon senses, it was almost laughably easy to avoid the few lone soldiers patrolling the corridors on Nicanor’s behalf.

They reached their meeting spot within minutes.

Inviting five former enemies into one of the usual reception halls would have been asking for trouble. Instead, Thysandra had pointed her visitors to a location which she suspected Bereas and the majority of her army didn’t even know existed: the statue gallery at the far end of the academy wing. The Mother had banished most traces of the fae rulers preceding her to that quiet, oblong hall, and these days it was rarely visited by anyone but groups of fae younglings during history classes – which meant that, no matter how publicly accessible the gallery might be in theory, it was significantly more private than the average meeting room.

They were the first to arrive. Only the rulers of old watched them walk between the haphazard collection of pedestals in the dusty morning light – their sculpted faces haughtily expressionless, shreds of cobwebs glinting from their marble wings and fingers.

‘So many arseholes,’ Naxi said wistfully.

Thysandra choked on a laugh, the sound echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

On the far side of the hall, surrounded by high, stained-glass windows on three sides, a semi-circle of marble benches had been erected. Most days, she’d likely have remained on her feet while waiting for her guests. This morning, she was too relieved to unburden her sore legs to care much about that little piece of etiquette; she plopped down on the nearest bench as Naxi ambled around her, studying fae faces and scoffing a little at the names and epithets inscribed in the blocks of marble beneath their feet.

‘Please remember not to get involved in the discussion,’ Thysandra said, even though she was well aware that she’d said the same thing four times already during their hasty breakfast, and that Naxi had miraculously not objected even the first time.

The response was a well-deserved eyeroll. ‘Sashka.’

‘Yes, yes, you already promised you wouldn’t,but—’

‘But you’re nervous.’ Naxi hopped from one stern fae lord to the next, sticking out her tongue at them both before adding, ‘Which you don’t need to be, because I’m here.’

Too easy.

Her wings unclenched a little nonetheless.

Because the simple fact was that shehaddone everything she could. She had her numbers, her arguments, her strategic little lies. She knew what the five representatives wanted, and she could give it to them. Yesterday she’d almost died, yes, buttheydidn’t need to know that; as long as they did not know of her weakness, they couldn’t take advantage of it.

As long as she did not tell them otherwise, she was still the powerful High Lady of the Crimson Court.

She still stiffened when the click of the door broke through the dusty silence. But Naxi was here and their opponents could not possibly know of this meeting … so she sat still and waited without drawing her weapons, exposed and vulnerable on her marble bench as three pairs of feet made their way towards them through the shadows.

Tared was the first to emerge, the faint shimmer of alf magic flickering around his tall form all the more noticeable in the grey morning light. Sword on his shoulder. Hand in his pocket. Eyebrows halfway up his forehead as he glanced at the heroic sculptures around him, his thoughts visibly close to Naxi’s mutteredarseholes.

Perhaps, Thysandra realised with a mortified jolt, it would have been better not to invite the lot of them to a hall stuffed full of glorious fae history.

Too late to change that now, though. So she straightened her spine, forced a smile, and prayed her voice wouldn’t tremble as she said, ‘Good morning.’

‘Tared!’ Naxi exclaimed, bouncing towards him in an excited blur of eggshell blue.

‘Morning, Naxi.’ He ruffled her hair with a grin that looked perfectly genuine, but that paled the moment he turned to Thysandra. ‘And morning, Your Majesty. Illustrious place you’ve found us here.’

She could hardly disagree with him on that.

‘It’s all the fae history the Mother tried to make us forget,’ she said anyway, because better to pretend this was a little piece of intentional symbolism than to start the meeting by admitting she hadn’t thought matters through that far. ‘Figured we’d better have this conversation in the company of the rulers whodidn’tcause you centuries of trouble.’

‘Ah.’ He looked vaguely amused. ‘I’m sure they’ll be more than excited to witness this historic event, then. Don’t suppose you’ve met Delwin before?’

Too easy, again.

Was it an act of mercy, his swift pivot away from her misstep? Or did he just … not care that much?

It felt dangerous, proceeding without knowing. But the only thing that could aggravate her blunder was to linger on it, so she swallowed her questions and forced a polite nod at the tall human man stepping from the shadows. Dark-haired. Straight-faced. He wasn’t wearing the white robes that came with his position, but his name was all the information she needed.

‘A pleasure to meet you, consul,’ she said.

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