Chapter 18

Old Thysandra would never have asked for a tour of the servants’ quarters.

Then again, Old Thysandra had been a wilfully blind fool.

And so New Thysandra found herself making for the castle’s easternmost expansion in the early hours of morning, her skin tingling with an odd mixture of tension, determination, and the afterglow of half a night spent fucking a pretty little demon halfway to death. Her eyes were itchy with exhaustion. Her heartbeat refused to settle into its usual pace. Around her, the court was as deserted as a mausoleum, the arches and spires lifeless and stilted – which was not uncommon around this time of day but unnerving all the same. Every whisper of wind became a sign of alarm, every shifting shadow a dagger about to sink between her wings.

She strode on all the same.

Do better .

Next to her, Gadyon and Nicanor followed without questions – the first mildly dishevelled as always, the latter’s night-blue attire twice as flawless to compensate. Neither of them gave the impression they’d seen the inside of their eyelids much over the course of the night, but both had jumped into action the moment she woke them and asked them to accompany her; she hadn’t even needed to elaborate on the matter of her own spontaneous disappearance.

‘Still no trace of Bereas and the others,’ Nicanor summarised as they walked down the winding corridors – his casual efficiency unable to negate the fact he was wearing twice his usual number of daggers. ‘Turns out he owes Silas two more favours. Funny, isn’t it, how the fools claim to want war yet run off as soon as they get involved in anything truly resembling a fight?’

Fools.

Even tense and tired, Thysandra couldn’t help but take note of that meaningful little word – a suggestion that he knew damn well it would be madness to resume the war against the rest of the archipelago. Which was a relief. She’d never explicitly asked for his opinion on the matter, and she hadn’t been looking forward to testing just how much wiggle room the loyalty of their bargain allowed.

‘Hilarious,’ she wryly said.

He scoffed a laugh. ‘Any orders?’

‘Increase surveillance on the entire island for at least a few days.’ She lowered her voice as she spoke; even if the castle remained dead quiet, there was no way to know if anyone was listening. The heavy velvet drapes on the walls seemed to smother the sound of her words. ‘I’d prefer not to run into any more surprise mobs. Also, get me a list of the commanders who refused to come to your aid yesterday. I’m planning to have a word with them.’

Her Lord Protector nodded – his cold, efficient nod.

‘The rest can wait.’ Until she had this visit behind her. More importantly, until she’d gotten an answer to questions she could never ask him directly – answers for which she needed assistance that only Naxi’s powers could provide. ‘Gadyon, could you tell me a little more about this place you’ve found to house the humans?’

‘Ah. Yes.’ The tall male to her left cleared his throat, limping steps breaking their rhythm for a moment. ‘We— Well, the short story is one of my people realised that only about half a dozen fae were still living in the ivy wing. It’s never been too popular. Too remote. So we, um, told those last few inhabitants they could move into the villas by the north coast that were left vacant after the battle.’

Nicanor’s swift grin suggested he might have been involved with that decision, but all he said was, ‘Surprisingly, they were happy enough to oblige.’

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Gadyon hurriedly added. ‘We wanted to proceed swiftly, and, well, with the uproar over exactly this sort of situation …’

‘No, that’s excellent.’ If she had minded, that would be her own fault for having disappeared so suddenly – and either way, it seemed a solution unlikely to enrage anyone but those waiting to be enraged. ‘And there’s an adjacent garden too, yes?’

She already knew there was a garden. She knew the wing in question as well as she knew any other part of the castle. What she needed to know was—

‘There is,’ Nicanor said in Gadyon’s stead, long strides never faltering. ‘Although it’s heavily guarded at the moment, of course.’

Good.

She could work with that.

As if to illustrate the point, two fae guards stood waiting around the next corner, posted before the stairwell that led to the wing’s main entrance. They veered up abruptly as they noticed her, saluting with a speed that suggested she hadn’t lost all appearance of authority over the course of the previous day.

‘Your Majesty, Lord Protector …’ The short but burly fae female speaking seemed unsure for a moment how to address Gadyon’s ink-stained presence, then chose the path of least resistance by not addressing the head of the archives at all. ‘Happy to report the night has been peaceful. No sign of any unusual activity, Your Majesty.’

‘Excellent.’ She nodded at Nicanor and Gadyon. ‘Please wait for me here. There are a few other things I’d like to discuss once I’m done.’

Once again, they did not ask questions.

She ascended the broad stairs by herself, one hand hovering close to the mulberry purple of her dress, the other to the dagger hidden in the sheath beneath her split skirt. No one lunged at her from behind the pillars with their serpentine carvings. No arrows whizzed in through the high, narrow windows. She reached the next floor unharmed, unnoticed, and no less tense for the fact.

A broad, frescoed corridor stretched out before her. Whimsical forest scenery covered the plaster walls, and the dozens of wooden doors blending into that background as if they’d grown from the floorboards themselves. There was no living creature to be seen – but from the far side of the wing came the murmur of voices, the clatter of plates and cutlery.

Breakfast time for those used to waking early.

Thysandra suppressed the urge to retreat and come back at a more suitable moment. The wing’s new inhabitants wouldn’t welcome her with open arms no matter when she showed up.

Better to just get it over with.

She sucked in a deep breath and made herself walk on.

Here and there, doors stood half-open, offering glimpses into the disarrayed living rooms beyond – bags, suitcases, piles of meagre belongings. No one seemed to have brought many of their own possessions with them, and it took her a moment to realise it was because none of them had much to take along in the first place.

Do better.

When did inattentiveness cross into the realm of stupidity?

At the end of the corridor was a sizeable common area, windows on three sides offering a view over the gardens and the quiet beach behind – and it was there that she found them, the humans of Rustvale, sitting at the long tables and on the luxurious couches with bags under their eyes and breakfast in their laps.

For one moment, she watched them just … be. A mother comforting the toddler in her lap. Two girls giggling by the window. A man inspecting a wobbling table with skilled, weathered hands. A single moment in which she might as well not have existed, and then—

‘ Fae !’

They jolted like hunted deer .

Within the blink of an eye, there was no more laughter, no more comfort. Children shot away behind their parents. Breakfast knives were snatched off the tables. A glass shattered against the floorboards, and Thysandra was the only one flinching at the sound – the only one who still had any alarm left to feel.

A hundred pairs of haunted eyes stared back at her in the sudden, deafening silence. Pale, gaunt faces. Ragged breaths. Trembling hands.

See you as a villain .

She didn’t want to see it.

She had to, though.

The little boy by the nearest table, clutching his half-eaten apple to his thin chest as if it was the most precious thing he’d ever owned. The man behind him, face covered in grisly burn scars. The child cowering behind a woman’s skirt, her downy white hair unable to hide the pointed fae ears – fae ears her mother did not have.

The fear, most of all, drawn sharply on every single one of their faces.

This was the world Thysandra had spent all her life building.

She had to feel it, the bile in her throat, the sickening understanding of who she had grown to be – because this was why she was about to declare war on her own damn court. This was why she’d need to face her opponents, finally, rather than try and slip around them for the rest of her life; this was why she could no longer be that young girl hiding beneath her blankets, wings tight around herself, trying to crawl away from the eyes of the world.

Traitor’s daughter.

Had her father seen the same thing when he committed whatever ill-advised act that had cost both her parents their lives?

‘Good morning,’ she choked out – a laughable, pitiable start. There was nothing good about her morning. Little about theirs either, probably. ‘I thought I’d walk by and see if you’ve all settled in properly. If there’s anything else we can do for you while we deal with yesterday’s events, too.’

They jerked back into motion as if it was a command.

Yes, yes, it was wonderful, hurried voices assured her – it was better than wonderful, this place to live in, more than what they’d ever expected. They’d been given plenty of food, and they were very grateful for that, too. Clothes? No, they really didn’t need more than what they already had, they could easily patch up some of the old stuff they still had lying about, and—

‘New clothes would be nice, actually,’ Inga’s gruff voice broke through the flustered lies. ‘And we’re in dire need of soap and other toiletries, if it’s not too much trouble. Got a lifetime of filth to wash away, you see.’

Another shocked silence descended over the room.

The girl had appeared from behind Thysandra, still in her grey servant’s frock, her long, pale hair swept into a bun that left her fae ears uncovered. Her fingers lay clenched tight around the apple in her hand. The look on her face suggested she might have used it as a projectile, had she not been so unwilling to waste a single bite of food.

You see? her scowl repeated.

Around them, humans and half humans sat motionless, breathless, as if Thysandra might chop off their friend’s head for her impertinence the next moment.

Thysandra did not move.

‘I see,’ she said instead, because it was the only thing she could possibly say – the only thing that would be true, at least. ‘I’ll have soap and a few boxes of clothes sent to you all before the end of the day. Some sewing materials, too. If there’s anything else you think of, please let me know and I’ll see to that as well.’

The gathered humans did not relax on the edges of her sight – did not let out any breaths of relief, nor any murmurs of appreciation. As if this might just be a trap. As if even acknowledging her offer might be reason to send them straight to their deaths, proof of their disloyalty or lack of proper servants’ manners.

Thysandra did not press. The least these people needed now, she figured, was more forceful fae demands.

‘I’ll leave you to your breakfast, then,’ she said instead, stepping back with a last nod before turning to Inga and quietly adding, ‘Would you mind having a quick word with me? ’

Inga visibly contemplated refusing for a moment, then glanced at her friends and family and gave a curt shrug instead. ‘If you wish.’

A hundred frightened gazes burned between Thysandra’s shoulder blades as they made for the exit of the ivy wing together, and behind her, the conversation never returned to its previous volume.

‘Let’s go for a stroll in the garden,’ she said when she reached the spot where Nicanor, Gadyon, and the two guards stood waiting. ‘We need to discuss a few things, and I’d like to make sure we aren’t accidentally overheard by anyone.’

By no one, that was, except the one person she wanted to overhear the conversation. No need to tell them that much, though – their ignorance was half the plan.

The guards stayed behind as the four of them made their way outside. Thysandra waited until they were out of earshot before adding, ‘Oh, and Gadyon, could you find a few reliable members of your population department and make sure the humans get full citizen status? Effective … well, today, I suppose. Or actually, make that the day I took the throne.’

Inga stiffened beside her.

‘Understood,’ Gadyon said, and she could have sworn he sounded almost … cheerful about the matter. ‘We’ll take care of it as soon as possible.’

‘Wouldn’t it be wise to give that a little more time?’ Nicanor cut in before Thysandra could say anything else, a hint of bewilderment to his gaze as he nudged the outside door open and held it for her. ‘Making this change the very day after Bereas and his mob almost killed you …’

She shrugged, stepping onto the meandering shell path outside. No one in sight behind the rose trees and the boxwood hedges. ‘We already have payments and legal protection established. It’s a largely symbolic change at this point.’

‘Symbolism is all they care about,’ he said, sounding desperate. ‘I shouldn’t have to explain this to you , Demonbane – this will be taken as a bloody clear message to everyone sympathising with them.’

Old Thysandra would have cowered at the thought. Old Thysandra would have believed she was failing her people, her throne, her sacred duty to the court.

New Thysandra just smiled and said, ‘Good.’

‘Gods help me,’ Nicanor muttered, releasing the door as Gadyon stepped out last. The hand he raked through his silvery locks was tense with exasperation. ‘No one benefits from more violence right now, Thys. Even if you manage to keep yourself alive—’

‘Oh, don’t bother pretending you’re selflessly concerned about the wellbeing of the human population,’ Inga grumbled, kicking a pebble. It splashed into the nearest pond. ‘Your altruism is deeply unconvincing.’

‘If the High Lady believed I was acting out of selfless concern, I would be significantly more concerned for her sanity,’ Nicanor testily shot back. ‘She ought to know damn well that I’m just trying to save my own hide here. Thysandra—’

‘You know I have no intention of hurting your poor hide,’ she said, in that end of discussion tone she’d only ever dared to use with those decidedly beneath her in the army ranks. To her pleasant surprise, it seemed to be just as effective now. ‘But my decision is final. If you decide your current position comes with too much risk to your person, I will of course not hold it against you if you decide to resign.’

He glared at her – a look that carried as much unwilling admiration as annoyance. A gamble, of course, but she was almost certain of the path he would take. This was Nicanor of Myron’s house, after all, ambitious to a fault, the male who maintained that safe decisions did not lead to victory, and she could not for the life of her imagine him stepping down from a position of power to go live a quiet life in the countryside.

Indeed, he gave a wry sigh and said, ‘You know me better than that.’

Good.

This was the game she knew so well – the alliances she understood how to wield. She wasn’t going to trust him, or anyone else for that matter; life was still not a charity, and no one with a lick of sense in their brain would voluntarily join her in pissing off some of the Crimson Court’s most bloodthirsty inhabitants. But she could trust the simple rules of self-interest. She could figure out what people around her wanted and make sure she was the easiest path to achieve those goals. It was the safest way of building a network that she could rely upon.

She might be turning into a traitor, but she certainly wasn’t going to be a fool about it.

They walked in silence to the spot she had in mind – a small, man-made pond in which a marble fountain in the shape of a dragon gurgled quietly. Three elegant benches stood around the water feature, looking out over the eastern beach of the island and the crystal-clear ocean beyond.

And there, behind a row of hedges …

A glimpse of pink.

Something in her wings relaxed for the first time since she’d left her rooms that morning.

‘This should do,’ she said out loud, as if she hadn’t been walking purposefully towards this spot since the moment she’d left the humans and their breakfast behind, as if she hadn’t painstakingly described it to Naxi as they made their plans in the depth of the night. ‘I’m sure Nicanor’s guards have kept the place free of listening ears.’

More accurately, she was sure Naxi’s demon senses would have picked up on any intruders in the vicinity of this little pond … but the demon remained where she sat, hidden behind her shield of boxwood, and so Thysandra assumed the coast was clear.

It was an odd sensation, actively relying on the little menace in her plans. It made her feel uneasy. But she had decided on her flight back from the Cobalt Court that there wasn’t that much of a difference between fae selfishness and demon selfishness: the principles were the same, to know another’s goals and be an asset rather than an obstacle. Naxi’s apparent selflessness had been dangerous. Unpredictable. Giving her what she wanted, on the other hand, was a perfectly sensible way to guarantee her loyalty.

Admittedly … it had been a rather pleasurable way, too. Knowing that those bloody demon senses would pick up on the heat still smouldering in her lower belly only intensified the sensation.

‘Take a seat,’ she hastily made herself say, because weakness was death, and drowning in the image of Naxi shattering into yet another climax under her lips was about as close to the definition of weakness as one could come. ‘This won’t take long, but we need to have a chat about the events of yesterday. About the spread of information, more specifically.’

The silence was both abrupt and deafening.

She didn’t even need to ask the question. It was visible in every stiffening pair of shoulders, in every narrowing pair of eyes and every gaze darting sideways – Who of you talked?

Who of you leaked our plans?

One of them must have. And no matter how many times she’d gone over the matter during hours and hours of flying, no matter how many times she’d lined up their wishes, their individual interests, their actions, she could not make sense of it.

‘This is not an accusation,’ she added when they remained silent, which was not entirely true but seemed a more productive way to go about the conversation than to threaten and blame. ‘I’m the first to acknowledge that mistakes happen, and perhaps no one involved had malicious intentions. The most important thing is that we find out what—’

A shadow fell over her.

She had one moment to wonder what sort of idiot would voluntarily intrude on a High Lady’s meeting, and another to wonder why Naxi hadn’t yet intervened; then her eyes adjusted to the sunlight and she recognised the golden wings of the newcomer above, the dark skin, the glimmer of too many bargain marks to count.

Silas.

Gods help her – what was he doing here ?

Her uncle landed with a grace that did not fit the sheer bulk of him, granting the company no more than a stoic nod as he folded his wings and tidied his plain white shirt. There was no sense of awkwardness in his bearing, no trace of apology in his expression. If Thysandra hadn’t known any better, she might have thought he truly had no clue he was interfering with her plans … but no, he’d survived at the Crimson Court for longer than a week in his heyday. That had to mean he understood the concept of private gatherings, didn’t it?

‘Morning?’ she said, settling for a pointedly inquiring tone in the hope that he’d get the message and excuse himself.

He did not.

‘Morning, Thys. Morning, everyone.’ If anything, he settled himself more firmly in the grass as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and glanced around the circle – gaze lingering a moment too long on the boxwood hedge behind which Naxi was pretending to be an exceptionally large flower. ‘Glad to happen across you all together. Would love to hear a little more about yesterday’s events.’

What?

This was not the plan – this was not at all the plan – and it took all she had to keep her voice level as she coldly said, ‘Why, exactly?’

There was no venom in his raised eyebrows. ‘I might be able to help, for a start.’

Hell take her.

What game was he playing, this male who was still a stranger beneath the familiar surface? He wasn’t here to hurt her, or at least that hadn’t yet been his plan when they left Ilithia … but that was a meagre reassurance when she had not the faintest clue why he had come with her to the court, or what his needs and wants might be. How was she supposed to deal with him if she had no idea of his goals and even less idea of how to be a necessary presence to him?

But before she could respond, Nicanor gave a soft, joyless laugh and sank down on the nearest bench, flicking his silvery hair over his shoulder. ‘Who knows? A few more well-aimed bargains might be just what we need to clear up this unfortunate situation.’

And just like that, there was no opening left to send her uncle on his way again.

The deadlock broken, Gadyon plopped down next to Nicanor, muttering an apology as his wing almost hit the other male in the face. Inga seemed to vacillate between fleeing and screaming for a moment, then reached a compromise by settling herself in the grass by the path. Only Silas himself remained standing by Thysandra’s side – a jarring, unmoving presence in the corner of her eye no matter how hard she tried to pull herself together.

Did she have to change anything about her plan? Was there anything she did not want to reach his ears – any risks she was overlooking?

‘So what were you hoping to hear from us, Your Majesty?’ Nicanor broke the silence – far, far too soon. As gracefully as he crossed his ankles and leaned back on his cast-iron bench, she was painfully sure his blue eyes looked straight through her crumbling mask. ‘As much as I want your questions answered … well, I’m sure I don’t need to point out to you that both Gadyon and I have made bargains to explicitly prevent this sort of thing?’

Thysandra drew in a breath.

That, it turned out, was too much of a pause.

‘Oh, of course,’ Inga snapped, lip curled into a furious sneer, eyes blazing with spite when Thysandra jerked around to face her. The girl’s gaze was making good attempts to draw blood from Nicanor’s whetted features. ‘We’re back to blaming the humans, I see? How fucking convenient, for you to—’

‘I’m not blaming anyone,’ Thysandra sharply cut in, casting a quick glance around the gardens before aiming her glare back at her quarrelling allies. Avoiding eavesdroppers was a hell of a lot harder if the conversation evolved into a shouting contest. ‘As I said before, I want to know what happened more than I want to punish anyone for the situation. I’m looking for information, not accusations.’

Inga scoffed. ‘You’ll have to ask someone else, then. I know as little as you do.’

Which did sound genuine, it really did – and hell, it wouldn’t make sense for the girl to have betrayed the information, would it? Not when she would have known damn well that it would put her and her fellow humans in immediate danger. On the other hand …

Who else?

Even without their bargains, Nicanor would never have brought such failure and humiliation upon himself, and it seemed unlikely Gadyon would deliberately have put the archives in danger. Could it have been an accident, then? But these were experienced fae, who had survived at the Crimson Court for centuries; surely they would know better than to accidentally leak anything?

Vicious circles. She’d spent half the night trying to find a way out of them.

‘And you’re very sure …’ It felt like prodding an open wound, to continue her line of questioning in the face of those frightened grey eyes. But words led to feelings, and feelings were her best way out of this ridiculous impasse – so Thysandra steeled herself, cleared her throat, and started again. ‘You’re very sure you didn’t mention it to any of your family members, either? Even if they are family members you trust? It could have been as little as—’

‘I did not talk,’ Inga snapped, shoulders hunched up towards her pointed ears. Her gaze darted around the circle of fae like that of a rabbit caught between wolves. ‘I’m half human, for fuck’s sake, not half-witted. I know how rumours spread, Your Majesty.’

‘There are arguments against the notion of human involvement as well,’ Silas unexpectedly cut in, his voice too flat, too thoughtful, to make it sound like he was arguing. ‘For example, it does seem unlikely that a human killed Iaris to cover up their involvement in any schemes.’

‘Oh, I agree,’ Nicanor said, throwing the Bargainer a look that came closer to gratitude than anything Thysandra had ever seen from him. ‘It stands to reason that whoever killed Iaris was fae. My hypothesis would be that someone, somehow , caught a whiff of the story, told one of the most notorious gossips at court to make sure the news would spread fast, then ended her to protect their identity. That person might have heard humans talking about the matter, or they might have gained the information’ – he grimaced, his glance at Inga a tangible risk assessment – ‘well, in some other way. That I haven’t quite been able to figure out yet, admittedly.’

Inga barked a mirthless laugh. ‘Your lack of creative thinking is hardly proof of my guilt, is it?’

‘They might not have heard it from any of us?’ Gadyon suggested, his hasty words interrupting Nicanor’s sharp inhale. ‘We did not guard the office door during our meeting, and others were at work in the archives at that moment. Someone might have been listening.’

‘Might have.’ Nicanor rubbed his temple with spidery fingers, visibly bracing himself as he looked up again. ‘The easiest way to remove all doubt would obviously be—’

‘I am not making any bargains,’ Inga spat.

Her voice echoed between the gurgling fountain and the rustling rose trees for a moment, then died away into yet another stretch of silence.

Even without looking at the pink, Naxi-shaped fleck hiding amidst the shrubbery, Thysandra knew exactly what quick, razor-sharp grin would be lying on the demon’s face right now.

‘Well, that’s bloody unfortunate,’ Nicanor was muttering on the bench, ‘because as long as we don’t clear this up …’

‘Don’t pretend you’ll stop suspecting me of foul play even if I bargain for this particular truth,’ Inga bit out, her hands balled into trembling fists. ‘It’s all you fae do, isn’t it? Lies and trickery, and so you assume everyone else must be doing the same. I—’

‘Inga?’ Silas said in his low voice.

She sucked in a shuddering breath. ‘ What ?’

He considered her for a moment, still unmoving, looking not unlike a male confronted with a feral, hissing cat he wasn’t sure what to do with. And for the first time, the very first time since their meeting on Ilithia, Thysandra heard a fraction of uncertainty in his voice as he slowly said, ‘Would you care to have lunch with me?’

Inga stared at him blankly, shock trumping even her anger for a moment.

‘I’d like to show you some of my research,’ he added, spreading his hands a few inches – almost as if to apologise for the suggestion. ‘You might find it … interesting.’

She parted and closed her lips, then let out a high, joyless laugh as she slumped in the grass. Her gaze wandered down to his bargain-covered collarbones, his bargain-covered arms, then back up to his face – all the usual distrust in her eyes, and yet the blunt refusal did not come.

The faintest sound of a giggle emerged from behind the boxwood hedge.

Inga’s breath made an audible escape.

‘Alright.’ She sprung to her feet like a soldier called in for duty, her jaw clenched tight, her pale hair escaping its pins and swaying after her like a hip-length cloak. A last glower at the rest of the group was her only goodbye before she snapped around and marched towards the garden’s exit, not even waiting for Silas to join her. ‘Good fucking luck with your scheming, everyone!’

Silas gave Thysandra half a grimace – a look she interpreted as we’ll talk later, if I survive for long enough to see you again – and swept out his wings, catching up with his lunch partner halfway to the castle. Neither of them spoke as they walked the rest of the distance side by side; Inga slammed the door behind her as if she wished someone’s neck were caught between it.

Nicanor let out a low, meaningful whistle.

Gadyon looked visibly concerned for the Bargainer’s sanity.

‘I think,’ Thysandra said, in her best, most decisive High Lady’s voice, ‘that that was enough for today’s meeting. I’ll let you know when we’ll next come together.’