Page 146 of Thorns and Echoes

Chapter 45

Anais

Hatred for her court burned like the simmering coals of the hearth, always hot and eager for a scrap of fuel. At the next torch, the parchment burned. Rage leaped with the bright flames.

The bitch dared to threaten Castien.

Ice smothered fire.

In her mind, the pieces on the map clashed with one, single shadowy figure. She swept the map clear, leaving only the one.

The guards at the nobles' apartments snapped to attention as she breezed past. They seemed unaware of the duchess' duplicity. Perhaps they might live.

She marked every guard and servant along the way who gave her a second glance. Every noble who bowed a second late, an inch too shallow.

If a single drop of Castien’s blood spilled today, the entire palace would run red.

Her captain caught up with her halfway to the duchess’ chambers. Down the hall, several guards stood outside the duchess’ door. Ten. More than usual. They lined the wall and blocked entry. One of them rapped the door with his fist.

The Queen drew her sword. She didn’t stop moving, didn’t slow her steps.

Murmurs rose behind her. Let them all see what happened to traitors.

Her cold glare scoured each of the guards. On their shoulders was the Kipos’ crest. Three steps from the closest guard, her arm pulled back.

The door swung open. The guards stepped out of her way just in time.

The Queen marched inside.

Duchess Satryani reclined in the middle of the room, her back supported by an ornate, cushioned chair. Against the walls were a dozen or so of her personal guards. The close quarters would make things interesting, but the Queen wasn’t worried. Even if a hundred more crowded the lady’s chambers, the Escorts were minutes away. The entire army was.

What stopped her sword was the man standing beside the lady, his sculpted chest stripped bare and the terribly straight lines of his nine-pointed star tattoo on full display.

A thin strip of leather coiled around his neck. The whip’s handle rested in Satryani’s lap.

The Queen allowed herself a very brief look. Castien’s eyes were blank – that careful mask he’d built for the court, not the hollow emptiness of the trance.

Satryani gestured at a small chair. “How wonderful that you could join us, Anais. May I call you Anais, child? It has been so long since we’ve spoken as family.”

Lazily, the Queen sheathed her sword. “I never considered you family, Auntie.” She disregarded the chair in favor of prowling the room. None of the guards met her eyes. Cowards. Glancing at the lady’s whip, she said, “Doing your own dirty work for once? I’m surprised. You know the punishment for leashing an Escort.”

Had Satryani led an Escort into the Great Hall by his throat, she would have been cut down by the guards, and not a single noble could have protested. The duchess wanted something, and the dead had terrible negotiating power.

Only the privacy of this meeting kept the Queen’s temper in check.

Lady Satryani casually twisted her whip, tightening the coils around Castien's throat. “I don't understand your fascination with this damaged toy. Yes, he was worth something once. Now? He’s nothing but rubbish.” She yanked the leather.

Castien’s breath wheezed.

The Queen slowly turned her attention from the guards to the duchess. A quick death was too merciful. Broken fingers might be a good place to start. Peeling her skin from her flesh. How much would it take to make the lady scream?

The Queen examined her claws. “As I said before, he is my property. A personal amusement. Return him to me, my lady, and we can speak in a civilized manner. My mercy deteriorates with every second you hold the leash to one of my pets.”

“If he were only an amusement, you would not have come.” Satryani’s hand opened, revealing the Consort’s ring. “If he were only an amusement, he would not have possession of this ring. What would your mother think if she were alive to see you taint your blood with commoner trash?”

Castien's hands curled into fists.

Ice spread through Anais' veins and coated her words. “But she’s dead. Because you murdered her, didn’t you, Auntie? How could you kill your niece? I never understood that. Family first – but not her.”