Chapter 8

By sundown, Thysandra was too tired to fly.

But no one had killed her yet, and no one had declared war on anyone; the world had begun to pull itself together after the earth-shattering changes of the last few days. The clerks at the population department were updating the registers. The first letters had arrived from other fae isles pledging fealty to the Crimson Court. Her last quick meeting with Nicanor hadn’t presented any new challenges, and even better, she’d succeeded in informing him of the humans’ demands without rousing any suspicions about her motives for humouring them.

Which meant she was as much in control as she’d ever be while she dragged herself back to her rooms, a stoic expression plastered on her face even as her legs threatened to give way beneath her.

Which meant she was in control all by herself , no demon assistance needed.

She still hadn’t figured out how she should inform Naxi of that fact by the time she reached her own floor. Two fae corpses lay sprawled over the upper steps of the stairs, knives in their chests and hands around the hilts – having disregarded her command to leave their demon guest alone, clearly. The door showed some faint traces of blades and crowbars. None of them had gotten through; the Mother’s protective magic held, even now.

A traitor’s daughter.

How ironic, that the favours that had once bought Thysandra’s unwavering loyalty were still the ones protecting her now.

She sparked her red magic at the right spot, and the locks clicked open. Without granting the dead fae on her doorstep another glance, she turned the handle and slipped inside, bracing herself for anger or tears or whatever else would be Naxi’s reaction to the news that her help and loyalty were no longer needed …

She made it half a step into the room.

Then froze again.

Whatever she had expected to find upon her return, an explosive invasion of houseplants had not been on the list. Yet there was no other way to describe the sight that welcomed her in the golden evening light – not the familiar, meticulous row of pots in the windows and corners of the room but a tangle of greenery that seemed to have taken over every surface in its vicinity. Heartleaf vines framed the balcony doors, winding elegantly around the bookshelves on the wall. The monstera had grown to nightmarish proportions, leaves shrouding half of the sitting area in shadows. Blood-red begonia flowers pulsated like living hearts in their pots, having swollen up to twice their size like sponges soaked in deep red wine.

The room smelled of forest, suddenly. Of moist earth and sweet blooms, a heady mix that made her head swim even in the moment she stood paralysed in the doorway.

Then Naxi’s elated voice exclaimed, ‘Oh, Sashka!’

Naxi.

Nymph magic .

The realisation was still in the process of landing when the culprit came dancing into view, blushing and beaming like the sun itself. Her blonde-and-pink curls had been bound up in a messy braid that seemed equal parts ribbon and hair. Her cheeks were rosy; her bare feet were spotlessly clean.

Most baffling of all, she was wearing one of Thysandra’s own bathrobes – a black, lacy thing that flowed around her slight form like water, the sleeves flopping just past her small hands, the hem trailing over the floorboards behind her.

She looked utterly, radiantly joyful.

Worse …

Much, much worse, the first word that popped into Thysandra’s mind at the sight was an unforgivable delicious .

‘You’re back!’ her tormentor triumphantly declared, rushing past her, tugging the door shut, then twirling around to bounce about the overgrown room. The elegant black silk suited her like midnight suited a bright-coloured butterfly – not at all – and yet there was something strangely enticing about the contrast, the smooth darkness brushing over those slim, pale legs. ‘How was your day? Are they listening to you? Did you murder anyone, or have I been the only one amusing myself?’

‘I … I did not.’ The answer slipped mechanically past her lips, her stunned mind grasping the lifeline of those questions as she staggered into the room. Vines had crept over the mirror, too, and a monstrous clematis now covered half of the small kitchen counter. ‘And they’re accepting me for now, more or less. What in the world have you—’

‘Oh, just cheered the place up a little,’ Naxi brightly interrupted, shooing heartleaf vines aside as she cleared a seat on the couch. ‘Poor things were miserable, being confined to those grisly pots. You should sit down, you know. You’re absolutely exhausted. Would you like some cheese pastries?’

What?

Too many developments. Too many surprises. Her mind wasn’t even done processing the first one, and it took a moment too long to blink and stammer, ‘Where the hell did you get cheese pastries ?’

‘Oh, I opened the window and scared a passing fae male into getting them for me.’ Naxi sent her a wide, sharp-toothed grin. ‘Turns out they believe I can curse them at a distance if they’re not fast enough. Very useful – we should keep that in mind. He also brought us some cinnamon rolls, if you’re in the mood for something sweeter. And won’t you sit down? You’re feeling a little overwhelmed.’

Thysandra fell down onto the couch. Her wobbly knees didn’t leave her much of a choice.

‘That’s better,’ Naxi cooed, dragging a blanket from the nearest chair and draping it clumsily around her wings and shoulders, like a fussy but inexperienced nurse. Her delicate hands were all movement, all vivacity, never pausing for the shortest moment. ‘Don’t move. I’ll get you food and tea, and then you can tell me all about your day, alright?’

Food?

Tea ?

No. No, this was not at all how this was supposed to go, some twisted imitation of cosy intimacy between them – because the little menace was going to leave , the sooner the better, and what was the sense of going along with this charade if that simple fact would be looming over every second of their meal? It wouldn’t be fair, would it, to toy with those fickle demon feelings like that?

Not that she should care about Naxi’s feelings in the first place, of course, but all the same …

‘We need to have a word,’ she said weakly, unable to tear her eyes away as her self-declared caretaker bustled around the room and pulled plates and mugs from cupboards. ‘I’ve had some time to think about that help you offered, and—’

‘Oh, hush,’ Naxi interrupted, swatting at her. ‘No talk of politics on an empty stomach, Sashka.’

‘But—’

Naxi sent her a glare and flicked back the clean white cloth hiding the pastries.

It was only then – at the sight of that flaky, golden-brown goodness – that Thysandra abruptly realised she was starving.

She hadn’t even noticed it. She’d worked much longer stretches of time on an empty stomach before, had trained herself not to pay attention to the rumbling and the hollow aches … but now, with the salty scent of melted butter and grilled goat’s cheese filling the room, there was no avoiding the sudden, keen awareness that she hadn’t eaten since her hasty breakfast of that morning. Which was no excuse, of course. All the plants and pastries in the world couldn’t change anything about the necessity of the conversation they were about to have, that conversation she really didn’t feel any nervous dread about …

But when had anyone last prepared dinner for her?

And when had anyone last placed a plate of food in her lap with such excessive, meticulous care, the way Naxi did now? People didn’t serve her at this court. She was the one who answered to others, who took care of their every wish and whim without complaints; the role of the spoiled one was strange to the point of discomfort, the urge to stand and get her own damn cutlery so overwhelming she might have obeyed it if not for her buckling knees.

Instead, she watched as Naxi fussed around for a few more minutes, pouring two mugs of piping hot tea, finding a jar of mildly crystallised honey, pulling knives and forks and napkins from drawers. By the time the demon curled up in the large green armchair with her own meal, it had become a challenge not to burst out crying on the spot.

Weakness. She ought to know better.

She averted her eyes and started eating instead.

The pastries were delicious – crisp on the outside, creamy on the inside, the flavours of briny cheese and thyme mingling to create something altogether divine on her tongue. She ate two, then a cinnamon roll, then another pastry. It felt unbearably decadent , to sit here with her blanket and her tea and just allow herself to drown in these treats … but hell, what was she to do about it if Naxi wouldn’t allow her to talk before she was fully satisfied?

She ate another cinnamon roll.

Only when her stomach felt full to the point of bursting did she manage to shove her plate aside and sag back into the cushions. In the armchair, Naxi was nibbling on a roll of her own, one round cheek bulging with food.

‘There.’ Her smile was smug, in an oddly endearing way. ‘That’s better, isn’t it?’

It wasn’t better at all.

Quite the opposite – it was much, much worse.

Was this some clever trick? Some cruel demon’s game? Had Naxi known what she was about to say, and was this how she tried to avoid the hard, simple facts – by making Thysandra feel so stupidly peaceful, so ridiculously comfortable, that it became almost impossible to speak those damning words?

You need to leave.

But she had to speak them. She had to. She didn’t need the assistance anymore, and the very presence of a demon at her court was a tinderbox about to ignite in the deadliest of ways – it was simple pragmatism, basic politics, and what was she thinking, letting something as silly as cosiness get in the way of her own survival?

Naxi’s long, melodramatic sigh interrupted her thoughts. ‘ Fine , Sashka. Out with it, then.’

Gods-damned demon senses.

‘You offered your help.’ Keeping her voice level, almost curt, was the only way she could get the words past her lips at all. ‘And I accepted it because I needed it. Now I’ve spent a day building a reliable group of allies around me, and I’m no longer in need of outside assistance. Which means you should … well … you know …’

Leave .

This wasn’t hard. This couldn’t be hard.

Her lips faltered all the same.

‘Ah,’ Naxi said cheerfully, stretching out in the armchair like a content cat. Black silk cascaded like a shadow around her in the deepening twilight. ‘You’re telling me to get out of here, aren’t you?’

Thysandra blinked.

‘You’re so predictable, Sashka.’ A fond, radiant smile. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you really want. I’m not a monster, you see.’

That last sentence was definitely a lie.

Which didn’t inspire much confidence in the one that had preceded it, either – because good gods, this was much, much too easy again. Where was the shock? Where were the pleas? This was the same female who’d snuck into that bloody underground cell over and over again, no matter how hard Thysandra had shouted at her to stay away … so what were the chances that she would just give up now, not even a word of discussion before accepting the inevitable?

‘What is the catch?’ Thysandra said slowly.

‘Catch? What catch?’ Naxi’s smile grew even more disarming. ‘You’re telling me to leave, so I’ll leave first thing in the morning. There doesn’t have to be anything else to it, does there?’

First thing in the morning.

There it was.

‘You think I’ll let you spend the night here?’ Her voice cracked. ‘When you know I’m going to make you leave? What’s stopping you from strangling me in my sleep if—’

Naxi rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be dramatic, Sashka. Of course I won’t strangle you. And what else were you planning to do – kick me out onto the streets in the middle of the night? You know as well as I do that I’m not going to find a ship or an alf to get me out of here at this time of day.’

That was an annoyingly good point.

She really hadn’t thought that far ahead, but at the same time … ‘You’d survive perfectly well for a single night. Just cosy up to the Labyrinth again if you need to.’

‘I made the bed for us,’ Naxi complained, draping herself dramatically over the padded armrest, blinking up at Thysandra with moist blue eyes. ‘Do you really want to make me sleep on hard stone after I—’

‘You made the fucking bed ?’

‘Yes?’ A sullen, alarmingly tempting pout. ‘I thought I’d take care of you, and also, I didn’t have anything else to do except scare the living daylights out of passing fae. Why are you looking so surprised, exactly?’

‘You … you thought …’ She was running out of words and sense at the same time. ‘You thought I’d crawl into bed with you? Just like that? With you ? After … after …’

‘I’m proposing we sleep , Sashka.’ In a flutter of movement, Naxi sat upright again, nimble fingers toying with the sash of the black gown. It had fallen open a few inches, revealing a thin shoulder, the ridge of a fragile collarbone, and absolutely nothing else beneath. ‘You know it’s possible to lie in the same bed without fucking, don’t you? ’

Did she?

That was to say … of course she knew. She’d spent plenty of nights sharing narrow tents with fellow soldiers, male or female, and not had contact with anything except the occasional inconvenient elbow flying around – the sort of sleeping that was just business, just pragmatic necessity. But none of those tentmates had been tiny, silk-clad demons with lively little hands and pouty lips that just begged to—

No.

No, she was not going to think about kissing anyone.

‘I’m not sleeping in a bed with you,’ she said through gritted teeth, averting her eyes. It felt like a surrender to look away – but hell, if she just kept repeating that simple sentence, she couldn’t be talked into anything, could she? She didn’t owe the little terror any explanation. Explanations would just lead to discussions she could lose. ‘That’s all I have to say about it. Leave now or leave tomorrow, but—’

‘Well, you’ll have to take the couch, then,’ Naxi said dreamily. ‘You’re not banishing me from the bed I made myself. That’s just unfair.’

‘I’m not sleeping on my own fucking couch! I—’

‘Excellent.’ Naxi beamed at her. ‘Then I’ll just crawl into the bed with you and we’ll both sleep like roses. Was that so hard?’

For the bloody gods’ sakes.

‘Leave my rooms,’ she ground out, because the alternative was thinking for even a moment about that image – lithe limbs tangled with her blankets – and she’d be damned if she let those demon games get the better of her once again. ‘Leave my rooms right now . Sleep in fucking Faewood for all I care, but—’

‘Pity I didn’t bargain to obey you,’ Naxi interrupted, glancing appreciatively at the pink bargain mark on her wrist. ‘And since I’m not feeling any pain, I’m going to assume my disobedience isn’t a breach of my promise not to harm you either – funny, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t care what the bargain thinks!’ Thysandra sputtered, her voice growing shrill. ‘I’m telling you I don’t want—’

‘Oh, of course you want it.’ An eyeroll, visible even in the deepening twilight. ‘But fine, let’s make a deal. I’ll take the couch, on one simple condition.’

Simple conditions were never simple. She felt like a wide-eyed fawn ambling straight into a hunter’s snare as she braced herself and snapped, ‘Yes?’

‘You kiss me first,’ Naxi said brightly.

Her heart stuttered.

‘What?’ She must have misheard. She must have – because that was not a suggestion anyone, sane or insane, would reasonably come up with, right? ‘Did you say—’

Naxi leaned forward in the armchair, pink hair spilling over the black silk of her robe, lips curving into a mesmerising little rosebud smile. ‘Kiss me?’

No.

No .

Her heart was a fluttering mess, and the worst of it was that it wasn’t all repugnance – that she couldn’t possibly deny the little spark of anticipation, eagerness , flaring to life in her chest. Even though they weren’t going to kiss. Of course they weren’t going to kiss. Kissing would only lead to emotions, and emotions were the last thing either of them needed – and anyway, she didn’t even want it, not really. Surely this was just … just …

Just curiosity?

Just memories. Just the day of the Last Battle returning to her, white hills and dying screams and soft, soft lips on every inch of her body—

Naxi giggled.

Fuck .

‘No!’ Thysandra sputtered, realising only then she should have objected at least five stunned heartbeats ago.

‘No?’ The sound of that one word was so infuriatingly knowing it barely counted as a question. ‘Are you really quite sure of that, Sashka?’

‘Of course I am sure!’ The frantic beat of her heart said otherwise. She sucked in a cool breath and hurriedly added, ‘And didn’t I tell you to leave my rooms? We’re done with this conversation. We’re done . I have absolutely zero intention of kissing you or—’

‘You’re such a liar,’ Naxi said fondly, rising from her chair .

‘And stay away from me!’ She scrambled back over the couch, then to her feet, away from those all-seeing blue eyes. Away from every inch of smooth, vulnerable skin whispering at her to come closer instead. ‘Stay where you are. I—’

‘And what if I don’t?’ Naxi’s tiptoeing steps didn’t slow, her movements so light they seemed almost otherworldly, her head tilted at a taunting angle. ‘What if I already know exactly what you want? I could give it to you, you know. All the little bits of indulgence you deny yourself, and—’

Thysandra almost stumbled over her own feet in her hurry to move back. ‘ Stop it!’

‘Why?’ A soft, melodious laugh. ‘Because you won’t stop yourself?’

‘No,’ Thysandra gasped, her wings bumping against the overgrown bookshelves. No way to retreat farther unless she were to fling herself out of the window. ‘No, because … because …’

‘Because you can’t stop me, then?’ Naxi was close enough to touch, and yet she didn’t reach out. A head shorter than Thysandra, half as broad, and still her half-whispering voice was the only weapon she needed. ‘That’s why you refuse to sleep in your own bed with me, isn’t it, Sashka? Because I could kiss you, and you’d happily give me those pretty lips of yours. I could slip my fingers—’

‘Shut up .’ It was almost a moan.

Naxi chuckled. ‘Why?’

She made her decision in the blink of an eye.

A desperate reflex rather than a well-defined plan, but who cared so long as it worked? Who cared so long as it saved her from a stupid mistake she was guaranteed to regret? Her hand flew to the shelves behind her back, grabbling for the knife she’d hidden between the books – yes, there was the smooth leather hilt—

A glint of light broke through the dusk as she swung her right hand up. The edge of the blade slid against Naxi’s pale throat the next moment – crude steel against vulnerable skin, and yet Thysandra’s fingers didn’t tremble .

‘Happy now?’ Her voice had gone rough. ‘If the word no doesn’t mean a damn thing to you, perhaps this makes my point. Get away from me, and—’

The corners of Naxi’s lips were trembling.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. ‘What the hell are you laughing about?’

‘You’re adorable , Sashka.’ The grin growing on that round, blushing face was nothing less than alarming – all shark’s teeth and sparkling villainy. ‘Did you really think I’d fall for that trick a second time, darling?’

‘What—’ she started, and then something slithered around her neck.

Around her shoulder.

Around her wrists.

A cold, leathery touch, not coarse like rope but smooth in the most alarming of ways, skimming across her heated skin and tightening on her arms, her chest …

Vines.

Those fucking vines were creeping over her wall with snake-like speed, slipping around her ankles, her thighs … They yanked back her knife hand, away from Naxi’s throat. The dagger clattered uselessly against the floorboards. And still the plants weren’t done, curling tighter and tighter around her limbs – pinning her against the bookshelves no matter how hard she tried to pull away from her bonds.

‘Oh, I really don’t recommend fighting them so much,’ Naxi muttered, stepping back to lean against the armrest of the couch. Her eyes gleamed with unholy delight. ‘They’ll only hold you more securely if you try to escape. For your own safety, of course – I really don’t want to have to fight you.’

The words barely registered.

Vines still skimmed across Thysandra’s bare skin, almost tenderly now – a thousand maddening touches at once, caressing the hollow of her throat, the insides of her wrists. She tried to draw in a deep breath and found the plants had wrapped around her chest as well. Leaves brushed like lover’s fingers over the inside of her thighs, and before she could pull herself together, her body clenched around a sting of heat …

It was all she could do to swallow her moan.

‘Oh, dear,’ Naxi murmured, cocking her head. ‘Surely you’re not enjoying this, are you, Sashka?’

‘Of course I’m not,’ she ground out, despite knowing better, despite her own body betraying her with every ragged breath. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment only made her feel every sensation more intensely, leaves stroking across her scarred wings, her nape, the sensitive spot behind her ear. ‘Why would I enjoy—’

The vines tightened like clawing fingers on her thighs.

Her hips bucked forward, a shameful, inadvertent confession – every fibre in her body straining closer to Naxi’s distant, delicate silhouette no matter how well she knew to stay away. Naxi laughed again, moving closer. It was dark enough now to see nothing but the glint of her eyes, the ravenous intensity in that gaze.

And then it was her finger , not another bit of murderous greenery, that came sliding down Thysandra’s cheek, chin, throat … such a gossamer touch, incomprehensibly sweet against the relentless control of her nymph magic.

‘You can’t lie to me.’ That melodious sing-song voice, coming from miles away through the roar in Thysandra’s head. ‘You really should know that by now, Sashka. Do you like it, being all at my mercy?’

Yes.

‘No,’ she gasped.

‘And still you’re trying to deceive me.’ More fingers. Slipping across her collarbone, swirling idly over the swell of her heaving breasts. ‘Good thing I know better than to listen to your silly words, when that delicious body of yours is telling me all I need to know – you want my lips, don’t you, Sashka? Care to tell me where you need them?’

Her body was a filthy traitor.

A slide of hot, slick arousal burned through her, down and down and down, blooming into a maddening ache at the apex of her thighs – and the vines responded instantly, tugging at her ankles, her knees, forcing her legs apart even as she cursed and wrestled against their inhuman hold.

She needed this. Needed it desperately , and yet she could never, never afford to have it – not if she wanted to survive another month, another day in this world. It was weakness, the shameless lust soaking her underlinen. Utter humiliation, to lose all that control of herself. And weakness had nearly killed her once before, her pathetic pining for a love that never came; the hole it had left behind was still a gaping hollow in her chest, too bottomless to survive another fall into its shadows …

She could barely even think anymore.

She only knew, down to the marrow of her bones, that she couldn’t, couldn’t let herself reveal the unforgivable depths of her need.

‘Stop.’ It was barely more than a wheeze, the sound of her voice. ‘ Stop .’

The vines slowed.

No time to think. No time to reconsider. The words spilled from her lips in a garbled, desperate mess. ‘Fine. Fine . I give up. You win. I’ll sleep on that gods-damned couch. I’ll—’

Naxi stiffened for the shortest moment, then burst out laughing.

‘Please.’ Thysandra almost sobbed the word, wilting against the shelves. It was too light, that laughter. For a moment, it chased away every lingering shadow. ‘That … that was the deal. Leave me alone and I’ll let you take the bed – please . I … I can’t …’

‘Oh, as you wish, Sashka.’ At once the sultry temptation was gone, that tightly wound predator focus. Naxi bounced to the bedroom as the vines slithered away like snakes into their dens – a spring in her step that was almost more horrifying than the ruthless seduction of a moment before. ‘Make yourself comfortable here, then. You’re always welcome to join me if you change your mind.’

The next moment, the bedroom door fell shut behind her.

As if nothing of note had happened at all.

Thysandra staggered back to the couch, burning shame and burning arousal warring in her gut – the memory of those inhuman caresses lingering long after the vines themselves had retreated. The closed door seemed to be laughing at her. How easy, how incomprehensibly easy, would it be to turn that handle and—

A traitor’ s daughter.

Fuck.

Was this all she’d be doing for the rest of her life, then – sacrificing her principles to pleasure over and over again?

The velvet cushions enveloped her as she let herself fall into the softness of the couch, eyes shut, skin aching with emptiness. Just like all those years ago, after the Last Battle. Just like all those nights she’d spent curled up in her windowsill, unable to face the praise and the victory waiting for her at court … Because that was what happened when you gave yourself even the smallest taste of what you wanted, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t stop craving it anymore.

One crack in your armour, and weakness would never stop pouring out again.

Just one night – she repeated the words to herself again and again as she wrapped her wings around her body, hiding her face between her arms so as not to see the bedroom door. Just a few more hours. Then Naxi would be gone from the Crimson Court, never to return, and she’d be free of these maddening desires, this constant pull to give in and hand herself over to yet another illusion of love …

One night.

Then she would be strong again.