Page 142 of Thorns and Echoes

Her wrist flicked. Leather wrapped around his arm. “I insist.”

The feeling of a whip on his arm was so strange, he instinctively tugged before even realizing what she had done.

Leashed an Escort. The intended Consort.

His guard drew her sword.

Anyone who dared leash an Escort was subject to severe punishment – the least of which was removal of a limb. The rose guard stepped forward. Castien's hand gripped his dagger.

Duchess Satryani’s smile was full of poison.

“Escort,” two female voices murmured.

His gaze snapped to her attendants. Two women, maids or servants, perhaps, clad in bland brown dresses. They had no claws. But they did have bright, vibrant green eyes.

Castien released his weapon. “Wait,” he commanded his guard. To the duchess, he said, “What do you want?” The women could not be who he thought they were. He studied them again. Green eyes. Blank stare.

The lady withdrew her whip. “A simple conversation is all I ask, Escort. In private, if you will.”

He remembered both Nadraken women. The fourth and fifth he'd poisoned. The first ten or so had been quite memorable.

“Make it quick.”

Chapter 44

Anais

Who loved a monster?

The Queen's fist slammed into a soldier’s chest, sending the woman flying backward. She dropped and swept out her leg, tripping another opponent.

Love makes you weak.

Of all the things she'd disagreed with her mother about, emotions were at the top of the list. Passion beat necessity. Feelings overrode reason. Instincts acted faster than practicality.

Love bound people closer than logic.

Ten soldiers circled her. The wind whipped her dress, and rain slicked the ground beneath her highly impractical heels. She had refused a sword.

“Work together!” she called out. “You are one unit. Act like it! Fight as though the man or woman beside you is the only thing between you and death – because they very well may be.”

Five rebels, five foot soldiers. Both sets had been recruited last year. They moved awkwardly around each other. Trust was lacking. Confidence was non-existent.

Two of the soldiers grew impatient. They charged her, swords raised. The other three held back, and the rebels showed no intent to attack.

It was a good thing she didn't normally wear her knives in the palace.

Allowing both soldiers to approach, she easily dodged an uncertain swing, then smacked the flat of the other blade. The weapon skittered across the wet ground. Both soldiers backed away.

She strode to the abandoned sword. If they weren't willing to attack her, they would need to defend themselves.

Lunging at a rebel, she pulled back, spun and jabbed at the same soldier she'd dodged a moment before. The man was better at defense than offense – slightly. He blocked hastily, his feet shuffling backward.

The Queen had already moved on. A flurry of strikes knocked three weapons out of pained but uncut hands. Frustration gnawed at her. It would be so easy to permanently incapacitate them. If this was how her army worked together, war would destroy everything.

“I challenge you!”

Pushing through the crowd on the rebels’ side was a red-haired woman. Pinned to her shoulder was a single star. She entered the training circle and drew her sword.