Page 30 of Thorns and Echoes

Anais felt rather than saw Octavius stiffen. He knew what the lady was talking about.

The bitch Yelena had twisted his mind. It was certainly a more palatable explanation. Her heart leaped to believe it. This was why she had her Escorts – logic and reason against emotion. The mind was a delicate thing. Even if they rescued Castien, there was no guarantee he would ever be himself again.

Hope was an insidious emotion.

Anais scratched her claws along the sword’s hilt. “Did she mention what she would do with him when he returned to her?”

Isabel shook her head. The lady didn't know, but Anais doubted Castien was riding to his death. There was a drop of hope in that supposition, as well as plenty of logic. Three moons of work on a new piece of the game that Anais had never heard of wouldn't be thrown away casually.

She needed to hear Octavius’ assessment.

The moment the Queen gathered herself to her feet, the guards placed their hands on the duchess’ shoulders. The lady trembled.

Anais turned halfway to the door. “You may depart tomorrow morning. It's late today. Stay the night. I insist.”

“…Yes, thank you, highness.”

She pulled her sword from the table and sheathed the blade. Two halves of an apple tumbled to the floor.

Chapter 13

Anais

Outside the ambassadors' wing, the Queen and her entourage paused in the middle of the hallway. The guards stepped out of hearing range and cleared the area.

Octavius shook his head. “I need to confirm my theory with those who know him. His rebel friends.”

“Let's go, then. The sooner the better.”

“You should rest–”

“As soon as you tell me what you suspect.”

Grumbling beneath his breath, the healer headed toward the military wing.

The ring of steel echoed through the halls. Soldiers stood at attention as she passed. She hoped her cheeks weren't too pale.

In the fighting rings were formations of soldiers working through maneuvers with a variety of weapons. Shouted commands rang out from the captains of each squad. For the most part, they were organized and well-timed.

All except one circle.

Jerrl once again faced a single opponent. The woman from before – Anais struggled to recall her name. Morwen. She circled her commanding officer with measured steps. But beneath the discipline of training was the heat of anger burning unabated in her eyes. Anais braced.

Morwen rushed forward. Her first swing connected with his sword. The second was parried. Then she came in with her fist,crunching Jerrl’s nose. Even as blood spurted, he aimed a stab at her ribs that she belatedly flicked aside.

“Enough!” Jerrl snarled. “I yield. Don't pull that shit in a real fight, soldier. My nose isn’t worth your life.”

If Anais had been in his position, she would have smacked the woman’s arm with the flat of her blade, leaving a warning bruise. Jerrl wasn't fast enough. In that case, he should have at least made a point of stabbing through Morwen’s armor. Fight dirty, earn the consequences.

Several nearby squads made little effort to hide their interest. Jerrl held his nose and growled at them to continue. He moved toward the door, stopping as his eyes landed on Anais. “My Queen. Sorry, bit indisposed right now. Can we talk later?”

Blood seeped between his fingers. Tilting her head, she indicated he could go. Octavius made to follow.

“Queen Renebris!” shouted Morwen. “Will you honor me with a spar? I'd like another chance to prove myself.”

Octavius turned his head, a scowl on his brow as he opened his mouth. Anais glanced at him, then the withdrawing figure of Jerrl. The healer cursed and walked away.

Her claws grazed the hilt of her sword. Morwen waited in the circle. Many of the soldiers had paused their exercises, curious and expectant. Today was not a good day to spar with live blades, but if she had to–