Page 2 of Thorns and Echoes

A flash of rage darkened his vision. “I’m fine.” He gritted his teeth and leaned away. If his head would stop spinning, he would be completely fine. She worried too much.

Her silence was worse.

The moment of anger passed. He lifted his eyes. “I'm sorry. I… yes. My head is bothering me. It was sudden.” He was weak. No matter how hard he worked, how long he practiced, he was still weak. His no-longer-shaking fingers curled into a fist.

“Let's take a break.” Understanding and sympathy shone in her eyes. Around them, the guards and servants offered him a smile.

Frustration flared. Unreasonable resentment and irritation simmered. He knew she meant well. They all did.

Controlling his expression, he picked up his weapon and met her kind smile with a tilted, rueful grin. “Good idea. My ribs certainly need it.”

“You're getting better. Quite good, in fact. Half the guards here can’t win against you in a fair fight anymore. Jerome’s upset, has them working twice as hard these days.”

The captain of her guard stood against a wall beside the entryway, his expression as impassive as ever.

Castien turned to replace the practice blade on a rack. “Second best never suited me. Shall we try again tomorrow?”

“Yes, I'll be happy to–” She frowned as her captain cleared his throat. Muttering “mother hen” under her breath, she said, “Right. I’m afraid Darius will have to take my place. Two of Jerrl’s captains defected. We can't let any more of them go.”

Since Damon’s execution, the new recruits had begun to disappear in trickles. So far, only the latest to join had vanished in the night – those least willing to trust the Queen, more loyal to Damon than the cause. Jerrl was a good friend, but he didn’t inspire people the way Damon had. The Queen’s presence could go either way – reassure the rebels that she was on their side, or make them more suspicious.

“Good luck. I wish I could help.” Castien’s presence was more divisive than hers. He had been their beloved leader’s friend. Then he had stood by and watched Damon die. No matter that Jerrl and most of the rebel captains supported him, the restless factions considered him just another noble.

Anais touched his arm. “It's not your fault.” When he didn't reply, she squeezed gently and let go. “I'll see you tonight. Don’t forget to check in with Octavius.”

“Tonight.” After she left the training circles, he smiled. She'd like her surprise tonight.

Now. Yes.

He rubbed away the remnants of haze from his eyes.

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

A figure in black separated from the wall. Castien stiffened slightly before continuing on to exit the training hall. “Thakris, if I accidentally stab you someday, it’s not my fault.”

The assassin smirked but stared pointedly at Castien’s naked finger.

He frowned and dropped his hand. “I forgot. It still feels odd. Distracting. And you know our deadly Queen is impossible to keep up with as it is. I think I have a new bruise.”

The other Escort snickered. “Only one? She’s too gentle with you. Poor, soft courtesan. Can’t have you whimpering when she tumbles you beneath the sheets.”

Peering sideways, he let the edge of his lips curve up. “Since you’re so fascinated with my bedroom habits, you should know that I never whimper.”

For some reason, the lady burst out in laughter.

Sighing, Castien muttered, “Need to request a new guard. Someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut.” He paused. “Shouldn’t you have a guard of your own?”

She glanced around the hall and shrugged. “We can watch each other’s backs.”

“Ah, I see. You slipped away. I can’t imagine Jerome is happy with whoever he assigns to you, poor fools.”

Thakris tapped the hilt of her dagger. “They’re fine. He knows me. Usually, he sets the trainees on me to see how long they can keep up. You, on the other hand,Consort, only get the best.”

“You’re the best? Oh, dear.” He grimaced.

A knife appeared in her hand. She flipped it between her fingers. “Sometimes protection means protecting someone from themselves. Anais probably won’t mind too much if I cut out your tongue. It seems to be the part of you that gets you in trouble the most.”

An absolutely filthy retort was on the tip of his tongue, but the sharp glint in her eye paired with the sharp edge of her knife shut him up. He smiled, bowed at the waist in defeat, and strode on.