Chapter 17

Since there was no one else left in the archives to do it, Naxi took it upon herself to walk Inga home.

It was not a pleasant walk. The Crimson Court was soaked in fear once again, and this time there was no triumph to the heated, humid sensation – not when Naxi had done nothing to cause it and was almost equally scared herself. Thysandra had almost died , for hell’s sake. Right before her bloody nose! And now she’d vanished again, leaving the court and its leaked secrets in the hands of a bunch of potential traitors – while no one knew when she’d return from wherever she had gone to.

If she’d even return.

Accompanying Inga home wasn’t an act of charity. More than anything, it was a most welcome excuse to get out of the gods-damned castle.

Neither of them spoke as they descended the path that zig-zagged down the slope of the mountain, into the valley that cut through the hills at the heart of the island. To their right, glittering fae abodes stretched along the azure-and-ivory coastline. The human village, in contrast, was dusty and colourless, nestled in a narrow crevice between two hills as if it had crept away from the eyes of the world.

It was also crawling with fae at the present moment.

‘Welcome to Rustvale,’ Inga muttered as they approached – the first words she’d spoken since leaving the castle behind. Her anger was so sharp Naxi could almost taste it. Sour and pungent, a flavour that had spent a lifetime brewing and fermenting. ‘Where our winged masters like to keep the cattle.’

‘I like most cattle better than most fae?’ Naxi helpfully offered.

Inga snorted a laugh, the flash of bitter amusement not nearly enough to soften the fury she emanated. ‘Oh, you and me both.’

A rare moment of agreement. It did not diminish the distrust wrapped around her heart in the slightest, Naxi couldn’t help but observe.

They were noticed a moment later by two patrolling fae, familiar faces who had been there to defend the archive doors as well. Inga didn’t return their greetings as she strode past them into the village. Naxi did, to be rewarded with two brand new stings of fear.

Damn it.

Not that she cared, of course.

A few dozen humans were standing on the sandy road, muffled cheers and cries of relief rising from their midst at Inga’s arrival. Most of them appeared to be in the process of packing their belongings, bags and trunks standing by nearly every front door. A few babies whined unhappily. A human girl of around fifteen summers stood sobbing in her father’s arms. None of them threw Naxi even the briefest glance as she slowed to a standstill on the edge of the village, unsure of what to do next.

Not that she cared about their glances either, of course.

Should she just leave them to their own devices, then? Turn back to the court, hide in the Labyrinth, and hope Thysandra would be back soon?

A few dozen feet away, the newly arrived, bargain-covered fae male named Silas landed next to Inga and exchanged a few quick words with her. Inga’s look of revulsion at the hundreds of bargain marks spoke volumes, but all the same, they swiftly reached an agreement; Silas flew off again, while Inga returned to her fellow villagers and began handing out orders with determined gestures at houses and humans. Waves of relief rose from the crowd. Of … fondness.

Perhaps, Naxi cautiously considered as she stood there and watched them scurry around with renewed frenzy, she could help out a little more?

She wasn’t sure where the thought came from. Helping people was a waste of time unless they could help you too, and there was little that this huddle of drained, worn-out people would ever be able to do for her – nothing she couldn’t do herself, at least. She didn’t feel sorry for them either. She never felt sorry for anyone. She liked making things harder for the fae, of course, but she doubted packing an elderly human’s bags would make life significantly more unpleasant for any winged citizen of the Crimson Court; if she wanted her revenge, she’d be better off just killing a few more of them.

And yet …

Yet something drove her feet forward.

Closer and closer to where the humans stood comforting each other, hauling heavy trunks from dilapidated houses together, pulling each other’s children away from passing fae. Stifling fear still permeated the air, but it was mingled with something softer – trust and camaraderie and the hard-won attachment of people who’d faced hell together.

A feeling as addictive as stolen sweets. Hell, perhaps she wouldn’t even have to help anyone? Perhaps she could just stand here and bask in the mellow softness of that sensation, the sense of home, of belonging —

One of the younglings screeched out in alarm.

Fear slammed down like a summer storm as every fae and human in the village snapped around at once, all amity and kinship gone in the blink of an eye.

Throwing them her most harmless smile was an unthinking reflex. Only as the fear spiked in response did Naxi remember that mortals tended to get nervous about her teeth – immortals too, for that matter – and that perhaps she should have started by explaining herself. Belatedly, she tiptoed two quick steps back, gave them a sheepish little wave, and tried, ‘Anything I can do to help?’

An infant started crying in its mother’s arms.

From behind a group of broad-shouldered men, Inga’s voice snapped, ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake .’

She came stomping into view the next moment, muttering something to the people around her before she made for the edge of the village in a straight and furious line. For a moment it seemed she would grab Naxi’s arm and physically drag her away, but she held back at the last moment; instead, she settled for a sharp jerk of her blonde head to indicate Naxi should follow.

Objecting seemed to be of little use, so Naxi didn’t.

‘You should be getting out of here,’ Inga said under her breath as they strode off the way they’d come. Her jaw was set in a grim line. ‘They’re jumpy enough already after that attack. Loitering demons is the last thing any of them need.’

‘But …’ Naxi stammered, stumbling over her feet to keep up. ‘But I’m just helping!’

‘Not to be blunt,’ Inga said, clearly intending to be blunt, ‘but that sounds a little unlikely coming from a demon, doesn’t it?’

‘Well, yes, but—’

The girl finally stopped short in her tracks and whirled around, levelling Naxi with a cold grey glare. From that look alone, one couldn’t have known just how frightened she was … but of course the fear was still there, visible only to demon senses, hidden behind a lifetime of channelling every spark of panic into unbreakable resolve.

‘But?’ she sharply repeated.

Naxi hesitated, unsure what point to make.

But I just want Thysandra to know I’m serious about staying – which was a useless argument, as none of these humans would trust Thysandra any more than they trusted her. But I have nowhere else to go – a lie, even if she couldn’t enter Thysandra’s quarters until her return. But I’m bored – as if any human wanted to think that their life-or-death survival was nothing but an amusing pastime to her.

None of those reasons told the full story, anyway .

Because sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could be like you.

Which wasn’t a thought she could simply speak out loud.

‘Look, I’m very grateful for the offer,’ Inga added when Naxi remained silent, unnaturally patient like a mother about to present a hard truth to her child. ‘And I’m sure you didn’t have any intention of eating anyone’s babies just now. But when we already have a few thousand fae to worry about, I’m not going to ask people to invite some fairytale monster into their homes as well, alright?’

But she was trying to help .

She was really trying to help.

‘Yes,’ Naxi said, desperately fighting her wobbling bottom lip. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Good.’ Inga gave a curt nod, then stepped around her, added a belated, ‘Take care,’ and strolled back to her waiting townspeople. Those same people who were now emanating waves of hopeful relief dispersed with pangs of expectant dread – as if Naxi would turn around any moment and start chomping on their children anyway.

Some fairytale monster.

She wiped her suddenly watery nose and started running.

It wasn’t fair , damn it – it really, really wasn’t. She’d risked her own life to defend them in the archives! She clearly hated the fae as much as they did! And babies didn’t even taste that good, her father had said, so why would she make the bloody effort to snatch them from their cradles in the first place? They had no right to kick her out like this. They … they …

A blubbery sound escaped her.

She ran faster.

For the first time since she’d arrived at the court, she missed her friends. Not that she’d ever been fully at home with them, not truly – but at least they had made a heroic attempt to pretend she had been, even if it was always on the condition of her sticking to the rules. Don’t kill. Don’t maim. Don’t gossip about feelings – instructions she’d followed religiously, and in turn, they’d hardly ever inched away from her .

She hadn’t even wanted to kill or maim them. The downside of killing one’s friends was that one no longer had any friends after the fact.

Like now.

Like here.

Her breath was squeaking through her throat, and still she could not stop running. Away from that cursed village. Away from the cursed castle. A doomed flight to some place that might not even exist anymore …

Home .

If only her mother had still been alive, and her aunts and cousins and nieces … and then she missed them too, a slumbering gap in the bottom of her heart that hadn’t grown any smaller even with all of the sixth regiment in their graves. Not that she had belonged on Mirova, either, of course. Not when Mother had always happily called it her greatest mistake, letting some demon male seduce her; not when it had been so mind-numbingly boring, growing daisies and singing songs all the time. And then she’d flitted off with Father and his demon friends, and when she returned—

Ashes.

The salt of her tears was stinging her cheeks, raw and painful.

She wasn’t lonely , she’d told Emelin weeks ago – demons shouldn’t be capable of the emotion. Yet right now, that very fact seemed like half of the problem, not the solution: one more reason to feel different, one more reason she was always, inevitably, an outsider.

She’d just wanted to help .

For selfish reasons, perhaps, for reasons of belonging, but did that make the offer any less genuine?

A wall of grey and dark green loomed between the hills before her, and only then did she realise what call her feet had unthinkingly answered. She slowed as she reached the border of Faewood, sniffing tears away as she stumbled between the twisted trunks – feeling the faint but unmistakable heart of the forest settle over her like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. It was thorny and raw, the sensation. Threaded with nettles.

A blanket all the same, though .

She found a clearing without any bones or wing shreds in it, not too far from the beach, and sank down between the gnarled roots with a last bone-deep sob. Around her, the shadows rustled in menacing ways. Distant howls mingled with the crashing of the surf. But no one told her to leave, or to be sweeter and less violent, and no one, not even the smallest patch of moss beneath her bare feet, was scared of her.

She buried her face in her arms.

She let the misery wash over her.

By nightfall she was no longer feeling anything but numbness, an apathy that kept her rooted to the soil as if she’d joined the trees around her.

She ought to return to the castle at some point, presumably. See if Thysandra had returned from wherever she had gone. Make sure that Bereas and the arseholes he called his friends hadn’t taken over the court yet. But if she returned, she might find the redwood door with its magical lock still closed – and then where would she go next, if she wasn’t able to enter the only rooms that would truly keep her safe?

Around her, the forest was almost entirely dark. Only the thinnest drips of moonlight came seeping through the foliage, drawing silvery blots on bark and leaves; she watched them move over the clearing as the hours went by and the moon slowly crept across the firmament. Maybe she could just stay here. Slowly turn into a tree herself and stop bothering with such infuriating things as humans and their fears – or maybe …

Something moved in the corner of her eye.

She froze.

But it wasn’t a hound or a smirking fae warrior with a knife in hand, and it wasn’t Thysandra either, having magically found her in this desolate spot. Instead …

A ribbon of light.

The softest, sweetest shade of blushing pink, emerging from the moonlit shadows of the wood and looping between the gnarled trunks towards her.

It was pretty and delicate like the first flowers of spring, that ribbon, alluring like the singing voices by the Elderburg cliffs. Naxi stared at it as it floated closer and drew a slow, wide circle around the clearing – no doubt about it, the light was here for her somehow. Which she should have known from the start. It was her favourite colour, after all.

There weren’t many people who’d ever asked her that, though.

Lyn, probably. A handful of nymphs, maybe. Apart from them … the Labyrinth.

All of a sudden, it was no longer so hard to move.

She jumped to her feet, avoiding roots and tangled branches instinctively as she dashed after that twisting ribbon of glowing pink. Could the mountain even reach so far? But then, it had been able to enchant fae and lure them in as well, and that seemed significantly more complex than flinging some light around – so she rushed on, ignoring the distant howls and the sharp pebbles beneath the bare soles of her feet. There was the outline of the mountain’s slope, drawn sharp against the starry sky. There was the entrance of the Labyrinth, a many-coloured glow lighting up the trunks around it. At long last, the foliage parted, the moonlight spilling in …

And there she was.

Whetted blade in one hand, bunched-up coat in the other – Thysandra of Echion’s house, in all her breathtaking glory.

She stood straight and tall in the arched doorway, eyes narrowed at the forest, the glow of a thousand colours playing over the rich umber of her skin. Her feelings came through a moment later, bewilderingly different from those with which she’d flung herself from the archive window mere hours ago: wariness, yes, always that same court-bred wariness, but mixed this time with a whiff of something Naxi could only describe as … resolve?

Confidence , even ?

And then Naxi staggered out from between the trees, and Thysandra’s every other emotion was swept aside in a surge of vast, exquisite relief.

‘ Naxi !’ There was a perplexing crack to the sound of her name – something that sounded close, really suspiciously close, to concern. ‘Oh, thank the gods, it worked. What are you doing here, of all places? Inga said you were—’

Some fairytale monster.

Inga was the last person she wanted to think about.

‘I was just resting,’ she squeaked, making a brave yet doomed attempt not to sound like a whiny wreck. Not that she wasn’t a whiny wreck, but there was no reason Thysandra needed to know that, was there? ‘Taking a nap with the trees. Just … just taking a break from people trying to kill me all the time.’

Thysandra’s eyes narrowed. ‘You look absolutely dreadful.’

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say,’ Naxi tried, voice far too high-pitched for the humour to sound at all convincing. ‘I was really just—’

The most unnerving thing about Thysandra’s speed was that it didn’t look like she was moving swiftly.

From her expression, her bearing, the casual way she sheathed her knife, one could have thought she was simply … ambling forward. Barely getting into motion, even. Yet she crossed the clearing in less than the time it took to blink an eye, centuries of honed battle reflexes contained in three lightning-quick steps – reducing the distance between them to a foot at most, a twitch-forward-and-touch distance.

Her free hand grabbed the collar of Naxi’s dress.

Her cedar scent turned every breath into perfumed agony.

‘I never thought I’d hear myself say this,’ she muttered, and hell have mercy, that was concern hiding behind the brave attempt at wry amusement in her voice, ‘but am I the one supposed to torture you for the truth now?’

Naxi’s mouth had abruptly gone dry.

She should answer the implied questions, probably. Honestly, this time. But Thysandra was close enough to feel the warmth of her, and then there was that stunningly beautiful face in the moonlight, close enough to kiss … Strong cheekbones. The stubborn curve of wine-red lips. A jawline made to rule the world, begging for fingertips to trace along its smooth, chiselled edges …

She was sad and tired and hurting, and how was anyone supposed to come up with words in the face of such magnificence?

Thysandra’s worry was a chilly fog around them. Frustration, too, a pressure like stone about to crack. More than anything, though, there was an absence – of that chafing, abrading feeling that Naxi had known to follow her wherever she went, as constant as the rush of the sea and the caress of the island breeze.

‘You’re not scared of me,’ she breathed.

A flicker of confusion stirred between them.

‘What?’ A blink. ‘No, of course I’m not. Haven’t we established that plenty of times by—’

‘Why?’ Naxi said feebly.

Thysandra stared at her. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Why aren’t you?’ Her bottom lip was trembling again. ‘Everyone always is.’

There was a single beat of silence.

Then Thysandra said, ‘Ah.’

It sounded tired, that one word. Resigned. The confusion between them had vanished at once, and so had the frustration, leaving nothing but that numbing, swirling coolness of concern behind.

It was getting harder and harder to keep her lip under control.

‘It helps that I know how demons work,’ Thysandra finally said, sounding as though she was choosing her words with the greatest circumspection. As though Naxi might shatter at a single unfortunate turn of phrase. ‘Most people haven’t spent their life studying your kind. Which means they think you’re entirely unpredictable, which I suppose is rather more alarming than knowing you’ll simply always choose the path of least inconvenience. Once there’s a path, it can at least be influenced.’

‘But …’ It made sense, and yet it didn’t. ‘But you still don’t trust me, either.’

‘No.’ Thysandra grimaced. ‘Because I know how demons work.’

Naxi swallowed. ‘Oh.’

‘All the same …’ Before she realised what was happening, a coat swept around her shoulders, woolly and warm against her chilly skin. Strong arms scooped her off the forest ground the next moment, cradling her like a child to be coddled. ‘All the same, I’ve decided I’m going to need your help.’

The night was getting more bewildering every minute.

‘I told you that ages ago,’ Naxi managed, unable to keep down her indignant little huff even though three quarters of her mind was not at all bothered with huffing, and much, much more concerned with the warm, muscular body carrying her into the glowing caves of the Labyrinth. Thysandra was so very strong . So perfectly shapely . Hard and soft in all the right places, and it was getting more and more challenging to think about being right when she could also be thinking about the fastest way to get her hands on every inch of those delectable curves. ‘And then you told me to get out of your sight.’

‘Yes,’ Thysandra sourly admitted, making a smooth quarter turn to avoid a protruding mass of rock, ‘because I didn’t have the faintest clue of what I was actually trying to achieve. You’ve got to agree you aren’t the most obvious ally when it comes to building up a fae court.’

Something really had changed about her. A frothy, foamy lightness bubbling from her heart, a feeling that was the opposite of weight – as if something had lifted or loosened or finally slotted into place. Naxi knew her cautious and dutiful. Reactive . Not like this, tight with the pressure of impatience, ready to burst into action like a kettle about to boil.

It was utterly intoxicating.

‘So what are you trying to achieve, then?’ She was growing a little breathless. Above them, the Labyrinth twinkled brighter than ever, like a constellation of dazzling colours. ‘Are you planning to raze a fae court to the ground?’

Thysandra shrugged. ‘If we don’t have another choice. ’

‘If— Wait, what?’ She tried to veer up, only to find that the strong arms holding her weren’t at all inclined to let go. In a tangle of limbs and skirts, she wilted and protested, ‘That was a joke , Sashka!’

‘Not from me.’ A wry grin. ‘Let’s get some food inside you before we talk about that.’

She lowered Naxi to the ground as she spoke those last words, onto the smooth, unexpectedly soft stone floor of the Labyrinth. The air was warmer here, two bends removed from the night outside. The black coat around Naxi’s shoulders was so long it brushed the tunnel floor; its sleeves hung past her hands, making her feel snug and infuriatingly small at once.

She turned where she stood, following Thysandra’s steps with her eyes. Only when the other female knelt to retrieve it did she notice the large wicker basket tucked away in a narrow corner of the cave.

‘Oh,’ she said with a little gasp. ‘We’re having a picnic ?’

‘Inga said she hadn’t seen you since the early afternoon.’ Thysandra didn’t look up as she opened the basket and began extracting its contents: grilled peppers, small, boat-shaped pies stuffed with minced lamb, sticky honey cake. ‘And the cooks said you hadn’t visited the kitchens either, so I figured you might be hungry. Took some food with me before I went to ask the Labyrinth where to find you.’

Naxi only barely suppressed another sniffle as she glanced at the ceiling and whispered, ‘Thank you, Labyrinth.’

Most colours dulled a little in response; only the pink gems flickered brighter.

She settled herself onto the tunnel floor, next to the steadily expanding pile of food, then tucked her bare feet beneath her coat and snatched a handful of sugared almonds from a small linen bag. A plate of stuffed dates and a bottle of rose lemonade emerged from the basket last. Out of nowhere, she felt utterly peaceful – warmth, food, safety …

Like home.

She quickly shoved that thought away.

‘So,’ she said instead, munching on her nuts. ‘Tell me about your plans to destroy the court. It sounds delightful.’

‘It’s not a plan, necessarily,’ Thysandra admitted with a joyless grin as she leaned back against the opposite wall and crossed her long legs. ‘Or rather, the plan is to stop trying to work with the bastards and start to work against them if they refuse to behave. We won’t get to the destruction part unless it turns out they need some … well, more forceful encouragement.’

Oh, that smile on her lips.

Naxi forgot to register the words she was speaking, forgot to chew – riveted, mesmerised , by the curve of that luscious mouth, the way the corners edged up and revealed two irresistible, almost mischievous dimples. A fleck of honey clung to Thysandra’s bottom lip. Next to it, the smallest crumb of cake. Messy, inelegant, and stunning – she wanted nothing more than to lick those distractions away, then—

‘Naxi?’

She saw the shape on that gorgeous, wine-red mouth more than she heard it.

‘What?’ she stuttered.

‘I asked if you wanted something to drink.’ Dark brown eyes narrowed on her face, and again the flimsy sensation of worry prickled in the air between them. ‘Are you alright? Still cold?’

‘No,’ Naxi spluttered, as truthful as she’d ever been. Her cheeks were burning. So was every other part of her, really. ‘No, not at all. I … I was just wondering how you changed your mind so suddenly.’

‘Oh.’ Thysandra reached for the basket again, pulling out two glasses. As she filled them with lemonade, she added, ‘I made a quick visit to the Cobalt Court.’

Creon and Emelin.

Some sense began to seep back into the whole situation.

‘I was driving myself insane trying to keep up with everyone’s threats and demands and expectations,’ Thysandra sourly continued as she leaned over to press a glass into Naxi’s hand, their fingers brushing against each other in a brief, stolen caress. ‘Still trying to serve the whole world. I’ve never done anything else, you know? Turns out I don’t have to. That I … I might as well stop catering to every shouting voice around me and do what I think must be done. ’

Blazing hell. It was unfair, really, for a person to be so shockingly beautiful – radiant eyes, flushed skin, the mouthwatering contours of muscular shoulders and flawless breasts … Relief radiated off that dutiful fae heart in featherlight waves, potent enough to get drunk on it. Potent enough, too, to almost drown out the ever-present watchfulness below; enough to almost, almost pass for security.

This, then, was Thysandra Demonbane when she stopped trying so desperately to be strong: a gods-damned force of nature.

‘Yes,’ Naxi said, feeling a little lightheaded as she clutched her drink. ‘Of course.’

Thysandra took a sip of lemonade. Licked a last drop off her lip. Leaned back against the wall, the glowing purple and orange gemstones behind shrouding her face in an otherworldly light, and closed her eyes as she said, ‘I’ve been an idiot about you, too.’

Naxi stopped breathing.

‘See, I was trying not to accept your offer to help because I assumed you would be leaving any moment.’ Another flicker of a smile. ‘But if I’m about to take on the court, I’m going to need you around here. And if I need you to stay while I’m making things right, if I need you to not betray me—'

Naxi scoffed. ‘I wasn’t going to—’

‘—then I’m going to need a different approach,’ Thysandra continued, as if she’d barely heard the interruption – giving the impression this was a monologue she had prepared well in advance, every sentence refined and memorised over the hours it must have taken her to fly back from the west. ‘And you’re a demon. You’re inherently selfish. So if you help me, I’ll give you anything you want in return, alright? If anyone promises you a better deal, you come back to me, and I’ll double—’

‘Will you come live somewhere else with me?’ Naxi said.

Thysandra’s mouth snapped shut.

For a single, gem-lit moment, they just stared at each other – sparkling glasses in their hands, a pile of food between them. Thoughts were visibly crashing into each other behind those dark eyes, wishes and promises, sensible politics and personal preferences …

‘ Almost anything, then,’ Thysandra finally said, her voice a little weaker now.

Not unexpected. Really, it had been an experiment rather than a genuine request in itself. Naxi was pretty damn sure she knew exactly what demand was expected from her, what demand Thysandra was hoping for her to make – four nights in the same bed with not even a chaste kiss between them, and finally the High Lady of the Crimson Court had found a way to justify what she wanted. No vines this time. No pretence of powerlessness. Instead …

Loyalty. A simple, dirty bribe.

Fucking your enemy, the safe way.

Which Naxi should probably point out, ethically speaking. Clear as hell the trust wasn’t there. She wasn’t going to betray Thysandra, bribes or not, and accepting the bribe nonetheless would only undermine that simple fact – which could only cause plenty of problems along the way, she was perfectly aware of that.

Then again …

She hadn’t stopped dreaming of that warrior’s body unravelling around her fingers. And damn it all, what was the fun of ethics ?

‘As you wish,’ she said, smiling wide – revelling in the astounding lack of fear that followed, person-to-person rather than monster-to-victim. ‘In that case, you could always just fuck me, of course.’

The relief echoing back at her almost made her laugh out loud.

But Thysandra merely hummed and sipped her drink – as if the flare of heat in her lower body wasn’t so perfectly obvious even through the haze of Naxi’s own. ‘Suppose I could. As a purely political course of action, of course.’

Oh, yes. This was much more fun than ethics.

‘Of course,’ Naxi said with an innocent flutter of her lashes. ‘Perfectly diplomatic. I never feel more loyal to you than when I have three fingers inside you, as a matter of fact.’

Thysandra half-choked on her drink.

‘In fact,’ Naxi added, setting her glass aside and scrambling to her knees to shed her coat, ‘I feel like this is the perfect moment to fortify international relations, don’t you agree? To, let’s say, lay the groundwork for fruitful future collaborations?’

Her reward was another of those intoxicating, half-reluctant stings of both shock and arousal. ‘What— Here ?’

‘Yes?’ Damn it all. She needed to forget this mess of a day. She needed, most of all, to forget the slumbering questions it had so cruelly unveiled, of home and belonging and a future she did not want to face. ‘You didn’t think you could present me with a picnic and expect it to stay purely platonic, did you?’

Again there was that war waging in Thysandra’s expression – duty against want, good sense against the delightful madness slumbering beneath her skin. Half-heartedly, she stammered, ‘The Labyrinth might be unhappy about that particular sort of diplomacy, don’t you think?’

The air grew noticeably warmer around them, or at least Naxi was quite sure it wasn’t just her own blood rushing to the surface.

‘I think the Labyrinth might be quite excited about us,’ she cheerfully countered, a little apologetic giggle escaping her. ‘May or may not have spent several hours rhapsodising about your pretty pussy, so—’

No matter how dark Thysandra’s skin might be, it turned out she could blush – explosively and feverishly. ‘ Naxi !’

‘What?’ She grinned, crawling closer. ‘I promised to entertain it. And it’s not like I had anyone else to talk to.’

There was a sputter about something-something dignity and something-something manners, which Naxi wholeheartedly ignored. Her fingers brushed along the length of Thysandra’s toned shin, pausing at the knee – soaking up the exhilarating hunger reverberating back at her, every nerve burning with the urgency of a dying plea.

Thysandra didn’t move. Her breath had gone shallow and strained, the swell of her bosom heaving temptingly against her red dress.

‘You know what?’ Naxi said, pulling back her hand and schooling her face into an expression of severity. ‘I’m suddenly overcome by an urge to betray you in the most dastardly ways. To all of your enemies at once. Unless you give me a very good reason to—’

Hands fisted in the front of her dress.

Raw warrior’s strength yanked her forward.

Their kiss was rough, almost violent , slamming the both of them against the glowing walls in a burst of sudden closeness. It was a pent-up kiss. A break-free kiss. A kiss that said finally , even if Thysandra’s ravenous lips would never speak the word out loud, and Naxi did the only thing she could think of through the roar in her ears – reached up, clawed her hands into the flight-mussed mass of gold-black curls, and drew herself even closer.

Hands dug into her hips in turn, flipping her onto the smooth stone floor.

Thysandra’s lips were greedy, hot and urgent, as if this one taste might be all she’d ever have. Her lust flared like a wildfire. Which was surely an invitation to do much, much worse … so Naxi untangled one hand from her silky locks and brushed down a slender neck, a rock-hard shoulder, the plump, magnificent swell of a breast – finding the hard bud of a nipple, finally, beneath that blood-stained dress.

She pinched, sharply.

Thysandra’s hiss was nothing to the spike of her pleasure. ‘You little—’

Naxi bit down on her bottom lip.

‘— vixen .’ Hoarse, breathless, curse and compliment at once. ‘Looking so sweet and pretty, while underneath—'

Naxi pulled away from their kiss, gasping for breath. ‘You think I’m pretty?’

A rough laugh. ‘Diplomatically.’

‘Oh. Right.’ It was hard to string whole sentences together with the weight of that tall body pinning her down, cold stone and burning heat turning her skin into a beggar for more – a need so urgent it felt like she was turning inside out with it. ‘Diplomacy. Can I … can I diplomatically sit on your face now?’

Thysandra’s muscular thigh pressed between her knees, forcing her legs apart. ‘I’m not going to offer you the best right from the start, of course. That’s just sloppy negotiating.’

Naxi whimpered. ‘But you said—’

‘I will give you what you want. Eventually.’ Full, hot lips brushed her jaw, her temple, the sensitive rim of her ear – turning the words into caresses, the sensuous promise into a torment of its own. Naxi tried to squirm closer. Tried to soothe the feverish craving at her core and failed, utterly and pathetically, as Thysandra breathed a laugh against her cheek and repeated, ‘ Eventually , I said.’

‘But then— Oh .’ She flailed for grip against the smooth floor as that merciless thigh finally moved up the last few inches and dragged a single slide over her aching flesh. Slow, maddening friction, dulled only by the layer of underwear separating skin from skin; her hips bucked up as if they’d gained a will of their own. ‘ Sashka —’

‘Be a very good girl for me first.’ Heated words, muttered against the skin of her neck. The colours of the Labyrinth swayed like dancing leaves above them, reflecting off gold-flecked wings swept wide. ‘Kill a few people for me, little monster. Keep me safe for a while. You’ll have to earn your rewards.’

‘That’s just cruel!’ she gasped, rubbing herself against the little reprieve she was offered. Needy and humiliating, but she was drunk on lust, on oblivion, and fuck, she needed that release. ‘And very unfair! I’m supposed to be the cruel one between us!’

Laughter brushed her skin again. ‘Seems like you’re an excellent teacher, then.’

It was too much. Too much and not nearly enough at the same time, the lips on her throat, the weight on her body, that hard thigh pressing her drenched linens into her equally drenched flesh. Most of all, the feeling of want that radiated from Thysandra’s every touch and movement, no flinching, no cowering away.

As if Naxi was harmless.

As if she belonged .

‘Please,’ she moaned, no other words left in her mind. Please let me drown. Please let me believe it . ‘I need … I …’

‘I know,’ Thysandra murmured. ‘You’ll get it, don’t worry.’

With a sob, Naxi clawed her fingers into corded shoulders and thrust up her hips once more, seeking, begging, aching. There was nothing demonic about this anymore. Demons took, rather than waited to be given; demons demanded without caring what they deserved. But she was so very sick of taking, of demanding – of being a creature that didn’t know how to do things in any other way.

She just wanted to have .

‘Please,’ she whimpered again, feeling the salt of tears on her cheeks again as she fought for that sweet release. Her mind was folding in on itself. The void within her spread like poison. But Thysandra was here, Thysandra was hers , and she clung to that lifeline – no home, no family, but the body she was rubbing herself against was devastatingly real, and she needed, needed —

Thysandra’s leg vanished from between her thighs.

‘No,’ Naxi gasped, grabbing at empty air. The world was a blur of colours and tears. ‘No, please ! I’ll be good! I’ll do whatever you need! I—’

Strong hands dug into her inner thighs and spread her open in a single, ruthless yank.

And then – stars above, hell below – hot, hungry lips dragged over her desperate flesh, and her mind shattered like fragile glass dashed against unforgiving rocks.

There was no time to catch her breath. No time to brace herself before Thysandra’s tongue slid inside her, drinking deep, voraciously – an urgency like a first sip of water after years and years of thirst. Naxi cried out, arching away from the smooth stone floor, and again that hot invasion filled her, lapping up every drop she had to give, feasting on her frenzied need.

She did not demand.

She just surrendered.

Fingers speared into her, laying her bare. Teeth scraped over her most sensitive spot, and already she was unravelling at the seams, her entire world contracting into a single savage point of ecstasy – because Thysandra did not relent, did not stop licking and sucking and thrusting, and fuck, that insatiable greed – that was what she needed, more than the pleasure itself.

‘Please.’ It had become a breathless, rhythmic chant. Her body sang, burned, trembled with unfulfilled need. ‘Please, Sashka – Sashka — ’

Fingers curled inside her. ‘Come for me.’

‘Can’t,’ Naxi babbled, too far gone to hear herself, let alone stop herself. ‘Need to touch you – need to – please—’

‘You can touch me later.’ A hoarse laugh heated her soaked, swollen flesh. ‘First, you’re going to come for me. Screaming.’

She gasped. ‘But—’

‘Naxi.’ The fingers thrusting inside her slowed for the first time, and she wanted to cry, wanted to kill something. ‘You’re so fucking wet. You’re so fucking beautiful. You taste like honey and roses. Feel what you do to me.’

What she did.

To Thysandra.

And then a voracious tongue dragged all the way up between her thighs, from her slit to the throbbing bud of nerves above, and she felt it. An unmistakable burst of pleasure that wasn’t her own at all, the undiluted delight of devouring the most delicious thing in the world …

Just a glimpse, but it was enough – it was better than enough.

She crashed over the edge in a single blinding flash of pleasure, moaning garbled pleas as her body folded in on itself. Every convulsion of her muscles echoed back at her in gleeful triumph. Every breath was full of Thysandra, that perfect, sweaty, earthy scent. She let the sensations wash over her, wave after wave after wave, until at long last the shudders eased and she was just blissfully hollow, numb even to the sizzling emotions flaring around her.

Thysandra’s arms wrapped around her, lifted her, cradled her. Smoothed her hair from her clammy forehead. Tucked her dress back around her sticky thighs.

Naxi breathed.

Just sat and breathed and felt … home.

‘Think you won the negotiations,’ she heard herself mutter, strangely slurred words, as if she was dead drunk on pleasure. ‘At least a day of loyalty, I think.’

Her reward was a low, husky laugh. ‘Oh, trust me – you don’t want to betray me tomorrow, either. I’ve got plenty more in store for you.’

Something was wrong with that assertion, Naxi vaguely, drowsily realised. Because the fucking had nothing to do with it, really. She wouldn’t betray Thysandra even if they went back to being celibate for the rest of their lives, not as long as she still had a place to be harmless – was that something she ought to say out loud?

But talking was hard , and she was so very happy, and really, she did have better ways to put her lips to use …

‘Can I tear that dress off you now?’ she murmured into Thysandra’s shoulder.

A matter of priorities.

Orgasms first. Food second. Surely they’d have time for talking later.