Chapter 22

For three whole days, no one tried to throw Thysandra to the hounds.

Nicanor’s people worked quietly and efficiently, dragging fae from their beds at night or intercepting them on lone flights, avoiding witnesses at every arrest. Per Silas’s suggestion, the captives weren’t locked up at the Crimson Court itself, but on Ilithia. The deserted villa of Castor Thenes had swiftly been equipped with alf steel chains and locks to contain around a hundred magic users – fewer than the full two hundred and fifty names on the Alliance’s list, as it turned out over half of them had already died in battle, by the Mother’s orders, or even due to simple courtly scheming.

For three whole days, Bereas did not show his face, either. The fishing fleet was left alone. The island’s shores remained blissfully quiet. Only the whispers at court never calmed – but then, the mysterious disappearance of a few dozen prominent members did nothing to soothe the already feverish anticipation that hang over the halls and galleries. Perhaps, it was speculated, they had gone off and joined the Mother’s loyalists, wherever the hell those were hiding now ?

Thysandra did nothing to dispel the theory. It was a rather convenient one, and not unlikely either; about two dozen fae on the list could not be arrested because they had indeed vanished with Bereas’s rebels.

For three whole days, the moon continued to wax.

On the fourth day, it had reached its fullest.

The morning of Hunter’s Moon was a cold one, and from her balcony, Thysandra watched the members of the court gather before the castle gate in coats and fur-lined boots. Jokes and tense laughter misted the air around them. Orthea paraded around in their midst, dressed for the occasion in a useless but most decorative hunter’s costume of slender leather trousers and a blood-red coat to complement her russet brown wings – she would, of course, not be participating in the competition herself.

‘Don’t they expect you to be there?’ Naxi asked. She had reluctantly joined Thysandra on the balcony but stubbornly refused to go anywhere near the edge; instead, she sat propped up in the doorway, her chin in her small hands, her fuzzy shawl around her shoulders. ‘Being their High Lady and everything?’

Far, far below, Orthea was loudly listing names. Hands rose from the crowd at each of them, accompanied by energetic shouts.

‘No,’ Thysandra said, eyes resting on the spectacle below.

‘No what?’

‘They don’t expect me.’ She sighed and straightened away from the cast iron balustrade, stretching her wings to shake off the chill. ‘I’ve never joined the hunt in my lifetime. They know.’

Naxi was quiet for a few moments. The company of contestants began moving in the meantime, bows and swords slung over their shoulders as they made their way along the winding path down the slope of the mountain. Quite possibly, this was the only time in the year the trail was used by fae. The rules of the game forbade explorations of Faewood prior to the event, and flying over or even towards it was generally considered a breach of those rules.

‘Is it the hounds?’ Naxi said.

It was the hounds .

No magic, the rules said. Just wits and physical weapons. The first to draw blood from one of the monsters won a place at the High Lady’s table for the feast; the first to kill one of them won a favour of their choosing. Usually, a few contestants died along the way. This was considered part of the festival’s appeal.

‘I understand if you’re scared of them,’ Naxi added when no answer came, leaning forward in the doorway. Her tone was thoughtful. Almost earnest . ‘I was scared of fire for a while after they burned Mirova. Almost bit Lyn when she showed me her wings for the first time.’

To her own surprise, Thysandra chuckled – a hollow chuckle, but a chuckle all the same. ‘It’s not really a matter of fear.’

A scoff. ‘You are frightened of them, Sashka.’

She considered that for a moment as she watched the troupe of hunters disappear behind the edge of the castle’s cliff, the misty hills beyond still echoing with their ribald laughter and cries of excitement. Hundreds of others, she knew, would now be gathering on the south side of the castle, standing on tower balconies or on that same precipice where she’d watched her father’s execution all those years ago, to keep an eye on the forest below and wait for the victor to emerge.

‘I don’t suppose I’m frightened of the hounds ,’ she said, finally. ‘Just of the people who use them.’

Naxi hummed a little, non-committal note in response.

‘Do you know why the festival exists in its current form?’ Thysandra continued, her fingers wrapping tight around the edge of the balustrade. In the distance, the voices were quieting. ‘It wasn’t always like this, you know. It used to be a contest between the different fae peoples, when the Mother had not yet united us – they picked a different island every year, went after whatever magical creature was living there, and held the festival in the winner’s name. The Mother only changed it after the Conquest.’

‘Couldn’t let a good thing exist without ruining it, of course,’ Naxi said dreamily. ‘Why did she change it?’

Thysandra closed her eyes. ‘Because the hounds are not so dangerous at all. ’

In the small pause between that sentence and the next, a horn blared in the distance. Loud cheers rose in reply, both from the foot of the mountain and from the castle itself – the hunt had officially begun.

‘They mind their own business as long as they’re left alone,’ she went on. Her voice refused to grow louder than a muted whisper. ‘They aren’t particularly aggressive by nature, either. But the Mother introduced this hunt in autumn, and the Milk Moon challenge to steal a pup in spring, and the hounds very, very quickly learned to hate everything walking on two legs.’

‘ Oh ,’ Naxi said breathlessly. ‘Oh, the poor things!’

As if in response, a harrowing howl emerged from the direction of Faewood, followed immediately by more cheering.

‘Yes,’ Thysandra said, every fibre in her body tensing at the sound.

‘And no doubt she told you it was necessary for the good of the empire?’ There was no mockery in Naxi’s soft voice – no reproach, no how could you be so blind. ‘That a simple execution by blade wouldn’t do to instil duty and discipline in her people? Just a matter of strategy! Nothing to do with her own stupid, twisted sense of entertainment!’

Thysandra’s laugh was like acid, biting and burning as it welled in her throat. ‘You’re starting to know her so well.’

‘I dabble in being a heartless bitch at times,’ Naxi said, her tone the epitome of humble innocence.

‘Not like that.’ It slipped out before she could think. ‘You’re not like that at all.’

This time, the world behind her remained silent. Ten, fifteen seconds, as exhilarated cries rose with irregular intervals from the distant woods …

Then something fuzzy and pink moved on the edge of her sight.

Gaze stubbornly trained on the horizon ahead, slim hands shaking a little as she clutched her shawl to her chest, Naxi came inching towards the balustrade. The morning breeze caught her loose curls as she left the safe haven of the tower wall behind, sweeping them around her face in a dazzling dance of gold and rosy hues; her eyes, just a fraction wide, were the clearest, brightest blue .

Like the freedom of an open summer sky. Like boundless ocean depths in which one could sink and sink and sink and …

Thysandra did not notice those clever little hands moving until nimble fingers curled around her own.

‘You should come inside.’ Naxi’s voice trembled slightly. ‘You’ve been thinking about terrible things for long enough now. Time to have a little fun before they make you sit through that terrible feast as well.’

Fun .

Her bones were much, much too heavy for fun. ‘I don’t think I should—’

Naxi rolled her eyes. ‘Sashka.’

Oh gods. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s really for the best if you come inside with me. I’m this close to making my way to Faewood’ – her voice faltered briefly as her gaze dropped to the world below – ‘and win the hunt myself by killing all of the others participating. So if you don’t want me to turn your festival into a massacre …’

‘Ah,’ Thysandra said with a feeble attempt at a smile. ‘Blackmail and bribery again?’

Something tense flickered in Naxi’s face. Just for the blink of an eye, then it was gone, and her fluttering lashes were as persuasive as they’d ever been.

‘If it works?’ she sweetly said.

It shouldn’t work.

But hounds were howling down in Faewood, fae voices were clamouring their favourites’ names, and she was so fucking tired of days spent on the brink of war. Naxi’s fingers were soft against her palm. Soft like her lips. Soft like every other delicious inch of that little demon body: frail limbs, slim hips, pert breasts that fit perfectly in the palm of a hand—

‘That’s more like it,’ Naxi murmured, tugging at her arm.

Blackmail and bribery.

But Thysandra followed her inside.

Choosing a dress for the feast felt like picking the sharpest sword from a well-stocked armoury – like an act of war in itself. She postponed it until the sunset painted the world outside in shades of scarlet and the blaring of the horns approached the castle again; now, she knew, her absence would soon be noted.

And questions would be asked.

Telling the court she’d spent all day escaping the threat of violence – that she’d been busy eating marmalade buns on the bed and kissing soft, pink demon lips over and over again – was unlikely to go over well. Somehow, she suspected the rational, sensible explanation of securing loyalty might not make much of an impression.

She did not allow herself to wonder what that said about the explanation.

The dress she selected, finally, was one she hadn’t worn in decades – a dress the Mother had acidly called unremarkable last time she’d worn it, and which she’d stashed away in the back of a wardrobe later that night. It was simple, admittedly. No glittering jewels or intricate embroidery; no bright colours or scandalous cuts. But the fabric … it felt like woven shadows in her fingers, a red so dark it seemed black, showing the glowing sheen of its true colour only when it rippled and caught the light.

She had never thought it unremarkable.

And damn it all, she had no one left to serve.

As she dressed herself, Naxi lay sprawled out on the bed, idly picking sticky crumbs off her bare chest as she ogled Thysandra and cooed words of approval. Which was not markedly different from what she’d been doing the rest of the day … and yet, with the armour of that dress in place, it was suddenly hard to endure it, that unabashed softness .

‘Perhaps you should be getting dressed, too,’ she said as she buttoned the slits beneath her wings.

Naxi pulled a face. ‘I’m waiting. ’

‘What for?’

A shrug was the only reply. ‘Did I tell you your tits look great in that dress, Sashka?’

Thysandra rolled her eyes and turned away, which was of course simply because she needed to find her jewellery box and not at all because she was blushing. Outside, voices were singing. Loud, off-tone voices – it appeared Orthea had not waited to serve the wine until they were all gathered around the tables for the more formal part of the festivities.

Which meant Thysandra would have to face a hall full of drunk hunters – quite possibly the only prospect less attractive than facing a hall full of sober hunters.

At least her tits looked great, though.

It was more of a comfort than it had any right to be.

She was still fastening her necklace – a single ruby pendant resting like a drop of blood against her bosom – when knuckles hit the door to her rooms. Nicanor’s voice made its way in a second later. ‘Thysandra?’

‘A moment!’ she yelled back, then turned to Naxi and started, ‘Now you’ll have to—’

Unexpectedly, Naxi had already darted out of bed.

In the blink of an eye, she snatched her discarded dress off the floor and yanked it over her head; one more blink, and she’d hoisted a blanket and a pillow into her arms, hauled them to the living room, and dropped them on the couch. Thysandra was still reeling from that cunning little bit of consideration after the door had been opened and Nicanor had stepped into the room, looking ever so slightly unnerved by the sight of a beaming Naxi ushering him in.

Waiting , she’d said.

For Nicanor? That seemed spectacularly unlikely. But the Lord Protector – dressed in impeccable Hunter’s Moon colours, a black coat set with rubies and a blood-red ribbon in his hair – was holding a linen-wrapped package under his arm.

‘Not sure what this is about,’ he started as he closed the door behind him, uncharacteristically neglecting to greet either of them, ‘but Thorgedson showed up in the crystalline hall a moment ago, claiming this was to be delivered to—’

‘To me!’ Naxi brightly interrupted.

Nicanor narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What is in it? If it’s anything that might be remotely dangerous, I—’

‘I don’t need help to be dangerous,’ she said, rolling her eyes at him. ‘It’s my new dress.’

This time Nicanor was not the only one to stare at her.

‘What?’ She snatched the package from his hands and clutched it to her chest, eyes challenging him to try and take it back. ‘Hunter’s Moon is black and red and silver, yes? I don’t have any black dresses. Or red dresses. Emelin made me a new one. Now if you’ll excuse me …’

‘ Emelin ?’ Nicanor repeated, voice soaring.

‘What?’ Thysandra heard herself say.

‘She’s very good at that sort of thing,’ Naxi breezily informed them both, then unceremoniously dumped the bundle of fabric onto the floor, dropped to her knees beside it, and began to tear the ribbons away as if they were eyes to be scratched out. ‘I told her— Oh, look ! It’s so shiny !’

Nicanor was staring at her blankly now.

‘It’s shiny and soft !’ A shimmering black creation emerged from the undyed linen, gossamer fabric rippling around those restless little hands. ‘And the sleeves are puffy! And fluffy ! Sashka, look at it!’

Thysandra was still too busy recovering from the notion of Emelin – godsworn, Mother-killing Emelin – spending her time sewing dresses … but thankfully Naxi did not seem to care much about anyone’s responses as she gushed and gasped and giggled, turning the dress over and over in her hands. Nicanor looked equal parts dumbfounded and disturbed as he cautiously backed away from her, making his way to the bedroom door instead, where Thysandra still stood frozen in her tracks.

Beneath his breath, barely audible over Naxi’s squealing, he murmured, ‘You’re alright?’

That was even more of a shock .

Nicanor? Inquiring after her wellbeing ? For a moment she found herself wondering whether this might be some delayed seduction attempt … but then, if his goal was to get her into his bed again, why wouldn’t he have started his campaign for her heart weeks ago?

‘You’re usually around sooner,’ he clarified, not raising his voice. ‘Before everyone returns from Faewood, at least.’

Oh.

He was actually concerned?

‘I, um …’ She shook her head with a joyless little laugh, attempting to clear her mind. Naxi’s elated giggling on the other side of the room held a little too much resemblance to the breathless sounds she’d made with Thysandra’s head between her thighs. ‘I … I thought this might be a good moment to write to the Alliance with a quick progress report. Took me longer than expected.’

He considered her for a moment, then nodded and averted his gaze. ‘Please be careful at the feast tonight, Thys.’

This was getting more and more unnerving.

‘I’m always careful,’ she countered, reflexively – the easiest shield to hide her stuttering heart. Worry was weakness. Weakness was death. Except that he should know the same thing, and it made it all the more unlike him to be so visibly anxious; the haunted look in those icy blue eyes was one she’d rarely seen before. ‘Why? Did anything happen at the hunt?’

‘Three people accidentally shot an arrow at my face,’ he said, lips pressing together into a thin line. ‘And someone was asking me why I visited Ilithia yesterday, although I don’t think they actually saw me there – not sure who did, though. I know you said not to tell them anything about the arrests, but—’

‘We’re not going to tell them anything,’ Thysandra sharply cut in. Fuck. The sounds of Naxi’s exalted glee instantly faded into the background. ‘The response to a breach of secrecy is to be more secretive, not less. And I’ll be safe enough, thank you – having a demon around is helpful in these situations.’

He drew in a sharp breath, then hesitated – a glimpse of calculation breaking through the concern, as if he was trying to gauge just how much chance of success his objection would have. The answer, apparently, was negative. His breath escaped again.

‘Alright,’ he said instead, curt but not unfriendly – and then, so easily she had no time to be shocked or even surprised, his hand came up, landing on her half-bared shoulder in a single firm squeeze. Not a seductive touch. A reassurance, if anything, soldier to soldier, friend to friend – but that didn’t make sense , did it, coming from—

He’d already let go of her again.

‘Let me put some extra guards in place, then,’ he said before she could react. ‘See you downstairs in a bit.’

‘See you,’ she said reflexively, and then he was gone – leaving her to figure out for herself what in the world it had meant, that unguarded, almost amiable gesture. Old friends, yes, but that was a laughable explanation, wasn’t it? Friendship was meaningless. Friendship lasted as long as it was mutually beneficial, and ended the moment it wasn’t – so what was he doing, acting as if there was something like affection behind his movements?

What game was he playing?

Was he even playing a game? He ought to be, and yet—

‘Sashka!’ Naxi interrupted her musing, loudly, and only then did Thysandra realise this was not the first time her name had been called. ‘Sashka, stop thinking about stupid things and look at me!’

That was enough to dispel every thought of Nicanor.

Because Naxi was standing between the monstrous begonias and braided heartleaf vines in a dress that— Oh, gods help her.

Perhaps killing High Ladies wasn’t even the greatest of Emelin’s talents.

The dress was a marvel , matte black satin wrapping Naxi’s slight form like a lover’s embrace, puffed sleeves and cinched waist emphasising her delicate build. Dark red rose petals cascaded down the bodice, like luscious drops of blood; they tapered off along the skirt, merging elegantly into the silvery leaf motif stitched along the hem. Nymph-like, and yet not nymph-like at all – there was nothing sweet about this dress, nothing playful or innocent .

In it, Naxi looked like a tiny, sultry monster queen. Like a creature that had always belonged at the Crimson Court.

And only then did it hit Thysandra – that the little menace had made an attempt to fit in .

She swallowed.

Her mouth was suddenly dry as dust.

‘That is the right reaction,’ Naxi smugly informed her, skirt swirling around her slim hips as she turned and danced into the bedroom. The black and silver shimmered with the motion – like a night sky full of floral constellations. ‘Don’t tear it off me just yet, though. What did Nicanor have to say?’

‘He— Oh. Yes. Nicanor.’ It was almost a crime to be thinking of Lord Protectors – or anyone else, truly – with a little demon parading before her in a dress that seemed designed to cater to every hungry fantasy that had ever crossed Thysandra’s mind. She shook her head, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts. ‘He … he was just concerned. About me being late. Warned me there’ve been some rumours making the rounds about the people we’re arresting.’

By the wardrobe, Naxi stiffened.

‘It doesn’t appear that they know anything,’ Thysandra hurriedly added. ‘Just the suspicion that maybe they haven’t all run off to join Bereas in hiding, but—’

‘But they’re whispering?’ Another sharp turn had the night sky flaring out again. Naxi’s eyes had narrowed to slits – a vigilance so sharp it was almost violent in itself. ‘At the feast?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘At that same feast where a few hundred drunk, bloodthirsty hunters are going to get even more drunk?’ The words stumbled over each other like clumsy feet, hurrying to catch up. ‘With all their weapons still on them and their bodies full of red and black to better attack you – that feast?’

The shrillness of her voice was alarming, and sharp enough to snap Thysandra out of her satin-induced daze. ‘Well, I’ll have you there to guard me, won’t I?’

‘There’ll be a few hundred fae there! And no plants!’ A thin, high-pitched laugh. ‘I can handle maybe two dozen of them at a time with just my demon magic, Sashka. Killing whole crowds at the same time is Creon’s level of work, not mine. If they’ve truly caught wind of your plans—’

‘Nicanor will bring in extra soldiers, too,’ Thysandra brusquely interrupted – too brusquely, a hardness fuelled by the dread that came trickling down her spine. ‘And I’m not entirely harmless myself, you know?’

Naxi plopped down on the edge of the bed, chest moving too fast with her breath, little hands balled into fists in the sea of satin pooling around her legs. ‘I know.’

It did not sound convinced.

‘So we’re going as planned,’ Thysandra stubbornly continued, more steel in her voice now, because someone had to be sure of herself here. ‘It’s not like I can just stay away anyway. I’m the High Lady of this court, and—’

Naxi snorted. ‘You don’t have to be.’

An icy, unpleasant silence fell.

Naxi looked suddenly small again, sitting on the bed in that gorgeous black and red dress, shoulders so tight even the puffy sleeves couldn’t hide it. The room seemed to cool around them, to tighten – the discarded clothing on the ground and the crumbs on the pillows suddenly a mockery of trust, of their charade of intimacy.

They were standing in the Labyrinth again. Come live somewhere else with me.

‘Let’s not do this again,’ Thysandra said, feeling her heart slink away from the conversation.

‘Why not?’ Something like despair shimmered in those wide blue eyes – something far too painful and far too genuine. ‘I know you said you want to do this, but it’s hurting you, Sashka! It might kill you! Saving the world and the court and the humans is all great and heroic, but it’s hardly worth that sort of sacrifice, is it?’

The humans .

Standing paralysed in their own damn home, clutching their children to their chests, watching her like deer corralled by wolves. Anguish that Naxi must have felt in their hearts, too, and yet …

‘So you’d just run off,’ she bit out, bitter disappointment welling in her throat as she abruptly turned away from the room. Away from that bed in which they’d slept together. ‘Of course you would. Must be so gods-damned easy, mustn’t it, to never feel love or loyalty to anyone?’

The rejoinder she expected didn’t come.

Thorns clawed at the silence behind her as she paced to the overgrown kitchen counter and blindly began piling up plates and glasses, her own words stinging in her ears. Had that been too harsh? But fuck, it chafed , the brutal reminder of reality – of the idiocy of her own thoughts, having found an illusion of togetherness in something as meaningless as a demon’s one-time choice of dress …

Sweet words on the balcony didn’t matter. Mind-blowing pleasure and marmalade buns didn’t matter. It was embarrassing, frankly, that even after all these centuries at the Crimson Court, she had imagined anything else for even the briefest, most mindless moment – that she’d needed the reminder that Naxi was not going to be part of her life.

Just of the fun.

Just of whatever Thysandra would bribe her into.

A demon so blatantly dismissive of any form of selflessness … it would be a miracle if she still attended the Hunter’s Moon feast at all.

‘I’m going downstairs,’ Thysandra bluntly announced, her voice too loud for the confines of her quarters. The vines and flowers seemed to wince in response. ‘If you decide to come with me, I’ll try to make it worth your while, but—’

A scoff emerged from the bedroom. ‘Stop being like that, Sashka.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like this is about meticulous bookkeeping.’ Naxi skittered through the doorway as she spoke, dark and floral, a feral little nymph queen of the night. Her glare was vicious, her eyes a fraction red. ‘Did you keep track of how many times you’ve had your tongue in my pussy? Want to tell me exactly how many dead fae that’s worth, perhaps?’

Thysandra blinked. ‘I just meant—’

‘I know what you meant,’ Naxi testily interrupted, rolling her eyes. ‘That’s the whole bloody problem. Are you coming, then?’

What?

Wait , she wanted to shout, the Hunter’s Moon forgotten. Tell me first what the hell you’re talking about – what do you mean, the whole bloody problem?

But Naxi had already flung open the door and bounded into the corridor beyond. On her way to the feast below – to that celebration that might just eat the both of them alive.