Page 29 of Shadows and Roses (The Dark Queens #1)

Castien

"Lordling!"

Castien glanced up from his garden, blinking at a figure striding up the path. "Damon? What are you doing here?"

His friend leaned against the cottage’s nearest wooden pole. A familiar grin spread on his lips as Damon looked him over. "Visiting you, what else? Had to make sure you’ve all your limbs attached in the right places. You will not believe how difficult it was to convince your Queen to let me see you! I had to threaten—"

"That was my decision. You’re welcome." Octavius stood from his seat on the porch, scowling and pulling Castien aside. "Are you fine with him here? I meant to ask. He wasn’t supposed to arrive for another few days."

"I think… Yes. It’d be nice to talk to someone else once in a while."

The healer grunted. "I’ll be inside. Shout if you need me."

Damon watched him leave. "No one trusts me. Does he think I’m going to hurt you, after all that effort to get you back?"

Castien brushed off his hands and rose to his feet. "Thank you for that. After our last conversation, I wasn’t sure you… well."

"Cared? You wound me. Wherever you find yourself, politically speaking or otherwise, you’re still my friend." Damon raised a brow at the garden. "Is that lettuce? What are you— Growing green things, of course, you are. You live in a fairy-tale cottage, you know that? "

Castien smiled, gesturing toward the small table. "The rebel leader calls a lordling sleeping in the palace a friend? What would your movement think?"

"By all accounts, you did quite a bit more than sleep. But I don’t care what they think." Damon shrugged. "The others wanted to come, too—Jerrl, Kevam, all of them. Your healer is overprotective, insisted you shouldn’t be bothered. You seem well enough to me."

Castien examined the dirt beneath his nails. His hands were still so damn weak. "I have better days. A moon ago… I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me then."

Damon eyed him, glancing around the cottage grounds. "Has your Queen visited?"

That memory was a bit fragmented. He hadn’t been able to meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to find pity, disgust, or even disinterest there. He swallowed. "Once," he whispered. "I couldn't…"

Damon snarled and leaned forward. "She shouldn't have come, then. I'd never want to see a claw again, if I were you."

Her claws had sparked a sort of dull fear, but it had faded before she left. "It was Octavius' suggestion, and I agreed. She didn't stay long." It had been too soon, truly, but he'd needed to see her. She had stirred and soothed him at the same time. The hint of roses woke a part of him he didn’t think would ever wake again.

Desire.

He spoke again before Damon could respond, smiling and asking lightly, "How's the rebellion? Ready to overthrow the monarchy yet?"

Damon’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged. "You were right. Your Queen isn't so bad to work with. Easy on the eyes, anyways, isn’t she?"

She was beautiful .

But that look in Damon's eyes was familiar—when he found another girl's heart to break. Castien remembered the longing looks of the girls Damon had left behind. If he broke Anais' heart…

He crushed that pang of jealousy. His friend had good reason to stay with this one, if she returned the interest. And if she wanted Damon instead, he wouldn't stand in their way. He laughed softly.

Damon raised an eyebrow. "What? Don't think she likes me?"

Castien shook his head. "I was imagining you and her. Vehement anti-royalist in bed with a Queen." Shards of glass ran through his veins. He was no fitter companion, never had been.

Damon grinned. "Wouldn't that be a sight? Me, a—what do you call it—Consort?" He chuckled.

Castien smiled, forced a light tone past the pressure cracking his chest. "You could use some of that charm on the nobles. If anyone could convince them that the people's well-being was in their best interest, it'd be you." Damon's influence would be greater and more useful as Consort. They'd listen. They probably already did. Wasn't that the purpose of a Consort anyways? Political alliance, for the nation. His hand beneath the table clenched.

Damon’s burst of laughter startled him. "Ah, you overestimate me, my friend. Those bitches would never help anyone but themselves. No, Anais is right in this—they need to be killed or forced to bend when the time comes."

Then Damon waved his hand. "Enough dreary matters. What're your plans when they let you out of here? Going to find a little corner of the world for your gardening? I always thought that difficult to believe, lordling. "

Castien rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, I’ve discovered it's not so easy living in the wild. Octavius has taken care of me like a child. But I have my funds. Perhaps I could be lordling in a manor somewhere. Would you hate me for it?"

Damon still smiled but his tone was almost vicious. "Just tell me where, and none of my people will ever bother you."

Castien blinked. "Thank you."

"What are friends for, if not abandoning each other in some forgotten corner of the world?!" Damon threw up his hands. "Besides, maybe I'll join you if all this ends in disaster. Palace life is spoiling me."

Memories of a lifetime ago cropped up. Grass as tall as their heads, the high-pitched laughter of carefree children. Their cottage could be a manor. He could host his friends whenever he wished, not only when he managed to slip his Night Court guards.

"I'd like that," he said barely above a whisper, swallowing the burning in his throat. His trembling hands fisted.

Damon saw the motion. His face darkened. "I'll kill the bitch, Castien. Your soul is worth more than every damned Queen in this world. Just say the word, and I'll ride into Nadraken right now."

Castien flicked him a mildly condescending look. "Don't be a fool. I'm not one of your pretty girls—you won't win my heart with heroic gestures."

"Ah! So the prince of the night has a heart? What if I am interested?" Damon leaned forward with a grin.

He said it so lightly, so Damon, but Castien still braced for the fear.

Nothing.

He could kiss his friend for that realization alone.

Instead, he lifted his chin and raised an elegant brow. "You may have a title now, but you still can't afford my fee."

Damon sat back. "Bah. No, no heart, never mind."

They bantered for another hour until Octavius decided to check on them. He scowled at Damon but the grimace faded when he found Castien’s open smile. Still, Damon was encouraged back on the road after a quick lunch.

Perhaps tomorrow he'd be in tears again, but today, right now, this fragile peace gave him hope.

Anais

The door to her study opened. Damon bowed and entered, followed by a servant carrying a soft, cloth-wrapped package. He gestured to the table where she sat.

As soon as the doors closed, he dropped into a chair. "Damned difficult to get a moment alone with you these days."

She sipped her tea, eyeing him over the rim. "One shock at a time, impatient rogue. The court needs to become accustomed to a new member before finding him at my side or council. We can’t have them looking at you too closely."

"Yes, yes, I understand. You should know—the raid returned."

She inclined her head. Trishve’s brief report didn’t mention any problems.

He continued, "I’m told it went well. ‘Surprisingly capable’ were the exact words from Aphaia. She doesn’t compliment easily. You might’ve earned a few friends."

"Good. As was the purpose. How are your people settling in?" The first thousand had arrived in trickles over the last moon .

"Well enough. From what my captains tell me, your military functions far differently than your court. Efficient, strict, disciplined. Curious how you managed that."

She shrugged. "The military has always been our strongest unit. Without it, this nation would not survive; even the nobles are aware of that."

He nodded. "Interesting."

Setting down her cup, she idly traced the intricate patterns painted into its surface. Impatience nipped at her. She spoke calmly, careful to leave out her jealousy. "Octavius also begrudgingly compliments your influence on Escort Castien. You’re a good friend." Tell me everything.

Scowling, Damon said, "Managed to slip a report to my guards, did he? Should’ve expected you to spy on me." That was all he said, then he waved it aside and raised a brow. "You didn’t prepare me very well, you know."

It was her turn to frown.

He smirked. "Yes, you spent days lecturing me about everything, but I didn’t believe half of what you said. I thought you betrayed me at the gate."

Her expression clearing, she sipped her tea without a word. He didn’t seem worried about Castien. He would’ve complained if his friend looked unwell, wouldn’t he?

"Oh, do I need to apologize for that?" Damon grinned, then nodded at the package. "Please accept this gift, my lady. Not for the guard—I still blame you there."

The corner of her lips twitched up. Removing the thin rope tying together plain cloth wrappings revealed a folded white-grey bundle of fur. Unfurled, the garment dropped into the shape of a thick fur cloak with a loose gold chain at its collar.

Damon lowered his voice. "An overdue apology for the attack in the woods. We folk who know how to survive in the wild should have been more diligent."

The soft fur of the wolf was an indulgent sensation beneath her fingers. A pity the creature had to die.

"It’s a lovely gift, Damon. Thank you." She smiled politely.

"May I help you try it on?" He took a step toward her.

She handed him the cloak and turned around. After gently placing it over her shoulders, he reached past her neck to clasp the chain. His fingers brushed her skin as he drew out her hair from beneath the cloak, then gently smoothed a few loose strands.

As his hands fell away, she turned in his arms.

"Beautiful," he breathed, looking only into her eyes.

The heat in his gaze and his parted lips reminded her that it had been too long since she took a lover. The nobles who feared her were unsatisfactory and Castien… She blinked and stepped back.

"Thank you for the gift, Damon." Formality and dismissal in her tone.

A frown flicked across his eyes but his mask was improving. He bowed again, smiling.

"I’m glad you like it. Good night, lady."

After he left, Anais sat back in her chair with the cloak snug around her, contemplating a small bowl of dried flowers each with a tiny thorn at their center.