Page 19 of Shadows and Roses (The Dark Queens #1)

Castien

The moment he left her chambers, he wanted to turn around and tell her he’d changed his mind. Give her everything she wanted until she lay limp and begged him to stop. The taste of her lingered on his tongue.

He licked his lips and continued walking. Not yet. Too soon. A taste would have to satisfy him for tonight. He should give her time to consider her words, not pounce on her like a starved beast.

Stay with me.

His joy skipped a beat. He wanted to believe her. She had sounded sincere and heartfelt.

No one loves a whore.

His Master’s favorite saying. Anais had said nothing about love. This had nothing to do with his heart. This was… a physical attraction. His body needed a release, as did hers. It was simple. He was doing what he had been trained to do, what he knew so very well. Seduce, sex, leave.

Leave. But she wanted him to stay.

Never let the client seduce you. Never forget what you are.

All their clients were wealthy and powerful, his especially. The Queen most of all. Perhaps his love of wealth and luxury was getting the better of him.

It didn't matter. He would take anything she gave him. That she wanted his particular talents was already more than he’d imagined possible. He could make her beg for him. He could make her need him, so that she’d never—

His fists clenched. No. She’d resent that eventually.

His thoughts chased him in circles as he wandered the halls past the midnight bell, too restless to sleep and too tired to do anything useful. Aimless steps took him to the menagerie, a natural and peaceful place when it was empty. Castien visited sometimes on lovely nights like this one. No one dared bother him anymore.

The garden was oddly quiet tonight. A few of the creatures were more nocturnal and ought to be active. Perhaps a wild animal outside the walls had frightened them.

The quiet was broken by a swirl of rustling leaves and a squeaking sound. It was probably the creak of an unoiled hinge. He headed toward the noise, into a darker corner, but bright enough that he could catch a scurrying creature if one had escaped its cage.

Stepping softly, Castien waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. This part of the garden housed a few foxes, a porcupine, a peacock, and several feeder mice in the back. The spiny critter would be a chore, but he could probably round up any of the others. A breeze tossed hair across his eyes and creaked the cage again. Likely the mice—it sounded closer to the back. Extra food for the hawk was not worth trying to hunt down. But he stepped towards the other cages to check them, just in case.

His foot landed on a soft lump. He kneeled to find a small body with feathers and wings.

It was a hawk, recently dead. Possibly the Queen's hawk. Poor creature. Bent feathers, a bluntly caved-in chest, and no appearance of being eaten suggested this wasn't natural or predatorial damage, however. He wasn’t particularly familiar with animals, yet this felt out of place .

Suddenly wary, Castien stood and eyed the dark corners. He shouldn't have come alone. The gardens ought to be safe, but he should have asked a guard to accompany—

Something smashed the back of his head and he blacked out.

Anais

A dead bird, the gardens in disarray, and a servant’s fearful testimony became the first business of the day. Barely dressed, a guard had delivered an urgent message—another infiltration in the palace. Irritation and concern brought her swiftly out of the Queen's Wing to the healer’s hall where the servant was being treated.

News of her fallen hawk had been dismissed with the servant’s description of events—three people dragging a limp man wearing an Escort’s bracers. The servant’s offer to help had been rewarded with a bash over the head.

A healer unwrapped the girl's hand as she told her story, revealing the outline of a nine-pointed sun burned into her palm.

Anais' rage was a cold, familiar companion. Every one of her Escorts was a close friend and advisor—and easily accounted for. Her captain joined her as she interrogated the servant. Half her Escorts were in her hall. An icy glare sent servants running to find the others.

"Call a council."

Word would spread soon enough.

By the time she swept into the council chambers, all but Castien had been located. The Queen was too deep in the ice to care which of her Escorts had been taken; she was only interested in leashing the council, then declaring her intentions to her Inner Circle. Any protest would only be a target for her wrath.

A herald stood by the table as she sat, waiting for her nod to speak.

"My Queen," he bowed, then turned to the rest of the room. "A member of this court has been taken against his will to the land of Nadraken. Castien of the Queen's Escort." He bowed and backed out of the room.

"Hardly a member of this court," Lord Magdus grumbled.

The Queen ignored him and glanced to the side. "Chamberlain, draft letters of intent—"

"All this fuss for a bed servant?" The same lord, his voice sharp.

Thud .

A knife quivered before the lord, the tip buried half an inch into the wooden table. The Queen’s fingers had hardly moved. "Never interrupt me. Letters of intent to the Queen of Nadraken. General, send a legion to the southern border."

"You would go to war over a courtesan?" Magdus said a moment after she spoke.

"I do not allow my property to be stolen. Or would you so easily hand over your gold, Lord Magdus, since you have more than you need?"

The protesting lord lowered his eyes. "Of course not, my Queen."

"Besides which, Nadraken has taken liberties with our southern border lately. This offense must be addressed or it will be taken as weakness. That much should be clear to all the members of this council."

"Indeed, my Queen," Duchess Satryani agreed. "And we should strike harsher in response. How many incursions have we ignored? Our lack of action encourages these brazen infiltrations." An expected sentiment from the elder lady.

"Dear Duchess," Count Grelden offered in soothing tones, "it sounds to me as though you're blaming our magnificent Queen for these attacks. I, for one, suggest patience before we send the legion. We do not know for certain that Nadraken is involved. It would be an act of aggression on our part if we move too swiftly." The count was a newer member of this council, and had been seeking Anais' favor. His words drew a nod from a few of the others, including Magdus.

Of course, the count’s protest was insincere—they all wanted bloodshed, but this council could be relied upon to disagree with each other, even if only for petty reasons.

What they didn't understand was that she despised them all equally. "Yet fatal if we move too slowly. The legion marches. Anything else?"

A brief silence, then the council brought up its usual issues. She wasn’t in the mood to assuage them today. Two minutes of bickering was all she suffered before she abruptly stood and left them to their own devices.

Vern

Vern noted the eyes following the Queen’s exit—and the ones too busy arguing to care.

"She loves cock more than her crown," Lord Magdus grumbled quietly after the doors closed.

Sitting beside him, Lady Chrysalm relaxed and yawned. "Give it a rest, Magpie. She broke a general's neck for accidentally killing one of her horses. What was that poor man's name? Oh yes, General Clumsy from No One Remembers because he's dead. Getting into a tiff with Queen Yelena over a whore is hardly surprising."

The Mistress of Ceremonies never dared speak like this to the Queen. She examined her claws, adding idly, "Oh, and don't let word get back to her about your insults; she's cut off enough tongues of idiot lords, what makes you think yours is safe?"

War meant ceremony and ritual, the opportunity for festivities at every small victory. That one loved any reason to throw a party.

Magdus glowered silently and sank back into his chair. His grumbling was nothing new. The glance he tossed at Lady Satryani went ignored by the duchess. Also old news. If it were Vern’s choice, Magdus would long ago have a knife in his ribs, but the Queen insisted the count was a loose thread. Someday, though…

Shortly after the meeting, Vern found Anais in the armory, strapping on leathers and weapons. She ignored him and continued her precise, efficient preparations. But when she approached the door, he stepped forward.

Grim-faced, he grabbed her arm and tensed.

She stopped, turning her head slowly. Her eyes were cold when her claws settled on the inside of his elbow, digging into muscles and veins.

"Release me, Escort."

He didn't. "Anais—"

"Queen." The word was a frozen, sharp slice through the air. Their respect for her was always returned, and she rarely pulled rank. But sometimes, this icy armor she encased herself in was difficult to remove.

"My Queen. I cannot let you go. Please remove your weapons."

Her claws moved from his arm to his throat. He lifted his chin at the pinprick touch.

"You cannot ? You dare command me? "

Her anger was not with him, but she might release that anger at any obstacle. As always, he trusted that she would not, would never, harm him or any of the Escorts.

It was an Escort's duty to stand in the way of herself. They protected their Queen even from her own choices, if necessary. He looked at her not with fear as the claws dug into his neck, but sorrow and love.

"My life is yours. Take it, if you wish to go," he said, lowering his gaze without relaxing his grip.

She went still. A heartbeat, then two, and her hand trembled. Her claws carefully lifted, her hand falling to the wrist of his arm holding her, fingers wrapping around him. Hair tumbled around her face as her head hung low and she took several deep breaths.

"I can't sit and do nothing ," she hissed, that tone not cold at all.

He brushed her hair with his free hand. "You are doing all you can. Trishve is sending a few of our fastest scouts. They may yet catch up to him."

She clung to him a little longer, just breathing.

"They took one of you. One of mine . They've never taken an Escort. Why did the idiot need to walk in the gardens? Why didn't he just stay in the courtyard, in the Queen's Wing, where it's safe?"

Vern put his arm on her shoulder and pulled her close. "He probably thought he was safe. He's still new, and we've all been lax. A guard should have been with him, at least."

She nodded against his chest. "Yes. Implement that immediately. Always travel in pairs or with a guard. Even in the Queen's Wing."

"Yes, Anais."

A sigh and she stepped back. Her eyes scanned his face, flicked to his neck and she winced.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry."

"My life is yours. Always."

She frowned. "As mine belongs to the Escorts, to the people. But don't you dare let yourself be hurt or taken, father. I won't forgive you."

"I'll keep that in mind, my heart."