Page 35 of Shadows and Roses (The Dark Queens #1)

Anais

Roses.

A confession to the beautiful man sprawled on her bed had nearly leaped from her heart. It was his fractured, fragile state that held her tongue. He had allowed himself to play with her as a courtesan, a patient—and not a single piece more.

She’d had his skin beneath her hands, his sweating body writhing between her thighs, his thick cock filling her—and his heart a world away.

"I'm not sure I helped," she said to Octavius as they shared a private lunch in her tower. The day was beginning to warm. It would be a hot summer this year.

The healer patted her hand. "You did. If you weren't so close, you'd see it. But I’ll admit, it should have been someone else."

She shook her head. "He doesn't trust anyone else."

"Yes, but— Are you alright?"

"I will be. When he is." She'd take it all. Every bit of his pain.

And if he didn't heal? Perhaps she'd burn the world anyway.

—

The next morning, she stood at the edge of her tower inside the Queen's Wing, her gaze drawn to the practice yard below. Shirtless, sweat-slick skin gleamed in the early morning light. She could watch him all day. His body flowed with a sword in his hand, his movements more graceful than the forms called for. She was missing breakfast with the Escorts. They’d understand.

A short distance away from Castien, her personal guard trained with a few rebel captains and select high-ranking soldiers, all learning to work together. Several of them peeled off from the formation.

Footsteps echoed in the tower a few minutes later.

"Looking for me?" Damon’s voice made her turn. He was alone; she’d instructed the guards to allow him access to her.

"I come here to think sometimes. The early sun is enchanting."

"The view is particularly delightful this morning," he agreed.

She turned back to the yard. Castien’s movements seemed strangely familiar.

Damon stepped to her side. "The troops wanted a break from training, so I suggested a hunt in the woods. That Master-at-arms there, Hedric, grumbled but let us go. Care to join us, my lady?"

The nobles took to hunting often enough, but she rarely participated. Theirs was a tedious affair of too much drinking, sitting around while the foresters herded out safe critters such as rabbits, and often devolved into drunken orgies or an impromptu hunt of an unlucky servant.

"I’m supposed to be at a meeting," she murmured.

"Perfect. I hate meetings. Come, I’m sure a healer would tell you that the open air is good for you."

It would be better than moping, she mused. An hour later, she found herself on a horse and smiling at Damon’s nonsense despite her dour mood .

"...but that boar didn’t like me, which is how I got this ugly mark on my hand," Damon waved his hand around, showing off a ragged white scar that crossed his palm.

"I’m pretty sure you got that from chopping wood," Kevam interjected with a grin. "Or trying to, but you were a clumsy five-year-old, even as little ones go." He ducked under a smack from Damon.

"Git. Can’t you see I’m trying to impress a lady?" Damon scowled.

Anais shook her head and leaned into her horse, urging it forward. They dashed for the tree line, the rushing wind providing a chill breeze. A few mockingly offended shouts cropped up behind her, and her smile widened.

Her captain caught up quickly, his frown only increasing her amusement. She asked lightly, "How are you and Madeline?"

His frown disappeared. "Good. Hm. Do you, ah, have any ideas what she’d like for her birthday?"

She was never going to get used to this side of him. "Her favorite sunhat is looking a bit worn."

His response was a stiff nod.

"I assume you’re using contraceptives, of course," she said in a cool tone. "Maddy’s always told me that she doesn’t want children."

He froze, his eyes widening.

Oh, that look was almost enough to make her laugh. Her tone softened, "I’m sorry, Jerome, I’m just teasing you. Do ignore my nonsense. You both look happy together."

His face gradually smoothed, leaving only a faint hint of alarm. He looked like he was struggling to say something, but the hunting party caught up with them, and he finally settled on his usual response. "My Queen."

Poor lovesick man.

As they entered the treeline, her guards drew tighter around her on the trail. Damon squeezed his way to her side. Jerome tossed him a disapproving glance before returning his vigil to the woods. It was fortunate that she didn't need to ask Jerome for his blessing, or she'd still be a virgin.

Damon settled next to her as she chuckled softly at that thought.

"Is Jerome being amusing? I didn't know he was capable."

The captain ignored him.

Anais swept out her hand in a lazy swat that the rebel easily dodged. "Just enjoying the forest. You were right; the air here is much better than in the palace."

They slowed to a walk along the trail. "Pleased to be of service. Do your nobles not enjoy hunting?"

"They do. In their own way."

"Ah. Then I hope you'll appreciate a real hunt. We poor peasants don’t have the luxury of hunting for entertainment."

She understood better than he knew. Her mother had tossed her into the woods once. Not these—somewhere further, wilder. Anais was told to survive and find her way back to court with only a knife. Her mother had said the forest beasts were kinder than the court.

"I shall appreciate if it’s nothing at all like what they do," she said.

"Easy expectations to meet." His voice rose. "Let’s show a Queen what a real hunt looks like!"

The rebels burst out in a brief round of laughter and cheering, then quickly silenced. They began to dismount. "First, if we haven’t frightened off all the creatures, we’ll have to find them. Quietly," Damon said.

She trailed behind Damon as the others spread out into the trees. Stepping where he stepped became a strange mix of careful, tense movements amidst the calm chattering of birds and squirrels. After an hour of wandering through the undergrowth, Damon turned toward the hoot of an owl. Two more soft calls and he began moving in that direction. A different sound made him pause, then crouch, gesturing for her to do the same. He put an arrow into his crossbow. Jerome palmed a knife.

They didn’t wait for long. A boar trotted into sight, looking around before lowering its head to sniff at the ground. An arrow thudded into the dirt at the boar’s feet. It squealed and began stomping. Damon cursed and shot, hitting it in the flank. A few more arrows pierced the creature, but it only grew angrier. And it had noticed them.

Jerome moved in front of her as Damon drew his sword.

Finally, a spear pierced the boar’s neck and it toppled over.

"Hah! Well done!" Damon shouted. Hoots and cheers erupted from the forest. He grinned at her. "That was an easy one! This gouge in my leg—" he began.

"Was from a fish hook!" someone interrupted, laughing.

He scowled into the trees. "No one asked you, Jerrl!" Then he shrugged and chuckled.

They went to work on the boar, quickly skinning it and building a fire nearby. Two of the rebels carried off the boar. The beast would take too long to roast out here, but they’d brought provisions for an outing.

"Relax, my lady," Damon said above the crackling of the fire. "Find something Queenly to do. We'll let you know when the food’s warmed."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll go dip my Queenly toes in the stream."

She and her guardian picked their way through the trees and underbrush. There was a small, slightly overgrown trail to the stream. As the camp noises faded, she glanced behind her.

"Jerome, what bothers you about them?" she asked.

The captain frowned. "My Queen? They don't bother me."

"Damon, then. What don’t you like about our rebel lord?"

"I’ve voiced my concerns in our council."

She glanced at his unreadable face. Unreadable to most, but she knew him. "Speak your mind, Jerome."

Silence for several steps. "He’s overly familiar with you."

"He’s fond of me," she agreed.

"Perhaps."

She raised a brow. "And would that not be acceptable?"

A small, frustrated sigh. "I don’t know, my Queen. It doesn’t feel right."

The burble of the stream reached their ears. Jerome wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t quite understand it either. "Try not to hate him simply because he’s fond of me."

"Yes, my Queen."

Jerome turned at a loud rustling behind them, but it was only Damon rushing to catch up.

"Thought I'd join you and wash up a bit."

They followed the high bank of the stream for a short distance before finding a path down. The bank was only a few feet up and would be filled with water after heavy rain. This time of year, it was low.

"We'll be fine without you, Captain," Damon said.

Anais nodded at Jerome’s look.

"I don't think he likes me," Damon mumbled once they reached the bottom of the cliff.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure he likes me ," she murmured back quietly.

Damon chuckled as they approached the water. The low waters revealed a small sandy bank with a dried, old log bridging the stream. The log lay just slightly above the waterline. It served as the perfect seat .

Anais tested the log and found it sturdy. She removed her boots and climbed on, letting her feet dip into the cool stream.

Damon waded in to stand beside her, twirling a small bundle of white flowers. He reached out a hand to pluck a leaf from her hair, replacing it with a flower. "It’s a lovely day. Aren't you glad you joined us on this hunt?"

She examined him as he weaved another white flower onto her head. "It is a pleasant distraction."

His hand wandered from her hair to her cheek, his eyes fixed on her lips. The rough skin of his hand was more welcome than she wanted to admit. She turned into his palm and closed her eyes.

A warm breath fell on her lips before he kissed her. She inhaled sharply and let her lips part, tasting his tongue sweetened by the smoke of fire. The hand on her cheek grew firm as he leaned into the kiss, his other hand grasping her waist and quickly sliding down to her thigh.

The Panther’s Hunt. That’s what Castien’s sword practice had reminded her of. He had been dancing with the sword.

She pulled Damon’s hand from her face as her heart beat faster. Her head angled to the side and she leaned away, but he only lowered his mouth to her neck.

"Damon, stop."

His fingers on her leg flexed, digging in almost painfully, then he let go and leaned back. Her other hand was on his chest even as her own rose and fell too fast.

She swallowed, wishing she could put distance between them.

"You love another," he stated flatly.

Yes, a man who smiled so easily at nobles, but could barely look at her without panic in his eyes. And yet she couldn't stop thinking about him, wishing he was standing here instead.

"I'm sorry, Damon."

He fiddled with a flower in her hair.

"No, I shouldn't be surprised. A Queen must have countless suitors. I just assumed since you don't have a Consort…"

His gaze fell to her wrists, to the bracelets she didn't often wear. This wasn't the first time he'd eyed them with this same avaricious look.

"Damon, you're a good man, and I value our alliance, but a Consort is a noble from another nation. It's a political union, not a love match."

"We are a political union. The people and the crown, united by us." He frowned. "But you’ve already made your choice."

The people would trust her easier if she took the leader of the rebellion as her Consort. Her noble council and the other nations wouldn’t like it. Despite Damon's supposed nobility, his title only put him slightly above a commoner and nowhere near the quality expected of a Consort.

Not that she cared.

No, none of that was important.

She'd throw everything to the winds if Castien had put on that ring, fight the entire world by herself to keep him. It was that depth of feeling Damon had never awoken in her.

His eyes hardened and he turned his back to her.

"Damon—" she called out.

"Oi! Lovebirds! Dinner's ready if you're not ‘occupied’!" Jerrl shouted down at them, laughing as he disappeared again over the hillside.

Damon walked up the cliff and away.