Page 17 of Thorns and Echoes

In the midst of a half-spin, the tip of a sword sliced her gauntlet. Anais grunted, deflected the next thrust, and caught Jerome's eyes, shaking her head slightly. His hand gripped his sword, but he remained where he was.

However, the Queen could not present injuries to the court. She needed to end this. Now.

While catching and flicking one of the soldiers' swords out of her hand, she extended a foot and tripped the woman. Carden shouted as he stabbed at Anais’ stomach. A hint of uncertainty lay in his eyes now. Good enough. She let his blade thrust at air, bringing her stick up to whack him on the side of his head.

Please don't die.

Carden blinked. A second later, his eyes rolled up and he toppled over.

The other rebel soldiers hesitated. One huffed in disgust and threw down his sword. The last two lowered their weapons.

Anais caught her breath and scanned their faces. Grim shame reddened their cheeks. Six against one, and they had lost; some measure of humiliation was unavoidable.

Drip.

A thin red trail traveled down her hand, coating her middle claw. Her arm was bleeding.

She nodded to her opponents who were still standing. “Well fought.” Then she bent and offered the fallen woman a hand.

Her grip was strong. The soldier found her feet and grumbled, “I've never seen anyone move so fast.”

Grudging respect was better than she'd hoped for, even if only one of them gave it. Anais smiled slightly. “Not fastenough.” She held up her arm. “I should have this taken care of. Excuse me.”

This time, when she glanced at Jerome, he was at her side within moments. She led him out of the circle before removing her gauntlet. A straight cut opened her flesh, the wound oozing blood slowly. Jerome quickly wrapped it in a bandage. Disapproval hung from him like a dark cloud. Yes, her father would definitely be hearing about her impromptu spar.

Behind her, someone spoke to the woman. “Not many can make the Queen bleed. Well done.”

One of the palace’s soldiers.

“There were six of us,” the woman spat.

“Doesn't matter. I’ve seen her cut down a dozen knights in full armor. They didn't touch her. Sir – I recommend reassigning Morwen. She'd do well as a knight.”

Jerrl scowled at the woman and nudged Carden with his foot. “She does well already. Since this idiot’s down, it's up to you, Mor.”

The woman shook her head. “I'm fine right where I am.”

Loyalty was a good thing. The Queen simply needed to make that loyalty work for her.

She remained to assess the rebels' progress. Jerrl was a good soldier, and he'd lead well on a battlefield. His people followed his orders. Cooperation with the palace’s soldiers was still somewhat awkward. Soon, even that would be seamless.

Soon, they'd be ready for war.

By the time Anais left the military wing, the orange glow of the evening sun bathed the halls. It wasn’t too late in the day yet. She could have that dinner Castien wanted. A smile threatened her lips. Her back twinged at the massage he kept tempting her with. A private dinner, a long massage, his expert attention soothing away the aches – she hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep too quickly.

Truly, he was spoiling her.

Chapter 7

Castien

The curves of petals formed beneath his knife, each delicate layer carved into the soft flesh of the strawberry. A warm evening breeze blew hair across his vision. He frowned and puffed it out of the way.

Anais peered over his shoulder. “Can I eat that yet? I'm starving.”

He flicked a sliver of the fruit at her. “Hush. Quit interrupting my art.”

“Your art is my food.”