Page 9 of Shadows and Roses (The Dark Queens #1)

Anais

"He’s too young."

Jerome didn’t waste time. The doors had barely closed when the captain muttered his opinion.

Anais glanced at him with a raised brow. "I’m hardly older."

"You didn’t grow up a glorified whore, my Queen."

She snorted. "The court would think otherwise."

He didn’t need to respond to that comment.

The courtesan had been confusing. She’d sensed anger, distrust, resentment. While she understood those feelings, a courtesan of his caliber should’ve kept them in check. Then again, she’d never visited a Night Court establishment. Perhaps, if their positions were reversed, she’d find herself just as off center.

There had been a moment. He’d managed to slip into his role, and something called to her—to Anais, not the Dark Queen. The nobles brought out her darkness often, but this was as different as fire to ice, a panther to a snake. When his soft tongue had stroked her hand, she'd almost blushed. She had wanted to play. The disconcerting feeling threw her off balance, and she had pushed it away.

Ridiculous.

Her hand still tingled.

"He’s pretty and he seems nice," Madeline murmured.

The handmaiden walked on her other side. Now that Anais was paying attention, she noted the shared glances, prolonged by half a second.

Jerome’s jaw ticked. "Of course he’s pretty. He’s—"

Darius interjected from behind them, "Wait. Anais, is that what you’ve wanted this whole time? If I’d known… well, it’s not my natural talent, but I’m sure I could figure it out."

Anais stopped walking. They stood at the entrance to her gardens. "Do any of you have substantial complaints?"

Madeline shook her head. Jerome glowered.

Darius sighed mournfully. "Does this mean I’ll have to share you?"

She rolled her eyes and tossed a glove at him. "Away. The lot of you. Captain, I’ll return to my chambers in a minute."

Jerome bowed deeply before stepping to his post beside her door. Darius picked up her glove and dashed off with a grin. Her eyes narrowed. She liked those gloves.

Her fingers brushed the soft petals of a blue rose. She’d never sent a black one before. The court would talk. Well, they’d have something more to talk about soon enough.

"Madeline!" she called out as her maid turned the corner.

The woman stopped and spun. "Yes?"

"Help me dress for lunch, please?"

Madeline frowned. "Yes, my lady."

The caution in her friend’s tone was well-earned.

Anais nodded briefly to Jerome on the way into her bedroom. "We haven’t spoken in a while, that’s all. I’ve been neglecting you."

"Oh. I know you’re busy, it’s alright. If this is about Jerome… It’s fine, really. You’re right. We should wait."

Silk gowns flowed under her fingertips. "It’s about us, Maddy. You know you can talk to me?"

"Well, yes, I, um… Here, let me."

In slightly awkward silence, Anais exited her contraption of a dress—she’d never get used to these things—and grimaced at the even more elaborate one Madeline had chosen .

Anais sighed. "Sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you and Jerome. I should have."

Madeline ducked her head, busily tugging straps and lacings. She murmured, "It’s new for us, too. He’s always been a good friend, and then… I don’t know when it started." She laughed softly. "I barely noticed it myself."

Anais smiled and straightened her back as the gown tightened. "I’ll have to trust you about that ‘good friend’ bit. He’s always been the same to me."

"Oh! I know! I think I’ve heard him laugh three times when you’re around. That’s ever, in my entire life. I counted. Once when I was ten, when you shouted that you absolutely would not be polite to that bastard’s son of—"

"Maddy!"

She giggled, then sighed and said quietly, "I haven’t heard you laugh all year."

Something flippant was at the tip of her tongue, but she let it fade.

As Madeline took a brush to her hair, Anais said, "You’ll tell me, Maddy, if I ever start acting like my grandmother?"

The brush paused. "Your grandmother? Why would you… I didn’t know her."

"Satryani then. Any of the court."

Madeline brushed a bit harder. "You would never."

Anais laughed, though not the laugh her handmaiden wanted to hear. "I do every day."

Her handmaiden set the brush down and stepped in front of her. "That’s not you. You would never —"

Jerome knocked once, then stepped inside. "My Queen. They’ve murdered another servant."

Her tone turned to ice, and, like throwing on a well- worn cloak, the Queen demanded, "Who?"

"Nikola from a small village on the Estes. No last name, no family. Lady Germaine Gamuth bled her dry."

Another name, another scar.

She stood. "Let’s go. Thank you, Madeline."

When the Queen swept into the Great Hall, the servants were still cleaning up the blood.

"Lady Germaine! What a mess you made!" The smile on her lips was only somewhat fake. There was undeniably a part of her that enjoyed watching the snakes burn. Especially the Gamuths.