Page 101 of Shadows and Roses

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.

Interlude—The Castle

A few hours later, the palace was quiet, the Queen lay in her bed, the guards stood alert at her door, and the wolf fur cloak was draped on a chair in the moonlight. Eight small, spindly legs unfurled one at a time from deep within the forest of white fuzz, then a small body cautiously lowered itself to the floor. Sharp skittering across the stone didn’t break the silence. Tapping its way up the bed’s wooden frame went unnoticed. The maze of sheets befuddled the little creature for a while, but eventually, it found the warmth it had been searching for.

Interlude—Jerome Winters

The Queen would not be happy if he stabbed this man.

"The Master Healer has strictly prohibited all visitors," Jerome stated.

Damon's charming smile always made him suspicious, wondering what the man was actually after. "Come, I'll be good for her. I make her laugh; you've heard it!"

"No one enters her chambers without permission."

"Yes, yes. At least give her this? The nobles have a fine taste for wine, if nothing else."

He personally had no interest in wine or any liquor, but Madeline liked to sample them. Not that he would give her anything Damon had touched.

If only this flea's ass would stay in the court where he belonged. He probably wasn't going to stop his badgering until something went his way.

Jerome extended his hand, letting the smirking idiot give him the bottle. "I'll pass it along to Master Healer Reivyath for approval."

The pleased smile faltered a bit, but he nodded. "Of course. Have a wonderful night, Jerome."

The man’s backside was always preferable to his front.

Jerome set the bottle at his feet and resumed his watch. Anais' condition was better now, after three days of fever and semi-conscious hallucinations. Sickness was not something he could guard against, and it drove him mad.

He would not let another Queen fall under his care, especially not the daughter of his closest friend, the woman who had saved his sanity and his life. The woman he’d failed.

He would not fail again.

Chapter 29

Castien

The day after Damon’s visit, a wooden sword landed in the dirt beside Castien, throwing up dust next to the greenery. He turned a blank stare at the object, then a wary look at the Master-in-arms.

"I’m too weak." The truth, even if he hated it.

"The exercise will help your recovery. You won’t regain muscles without effort."

It would be good to be able to defend himself. To never feel so helpless again. His left hand closed around the wooden blade and he stood. "Alright. How do we begin?"

"You run laps. Endurance first." Octavius gestured in a wide circle around the cabin, then took the weapon from him. "Sword later."

Castien barely managed a hundred paces before slowing to a walk, panting. He hadn’t realized how weak he truly was. The bright sun highlighted thin limbs and bony, outspread fingers that belonged to a much older man. Those fingers curled into a fist, and he started jogging again.

The heat of the sun slowly warmed his body, lulling him into an old, familiar trance. How could it have been only less than a year ago that he ran in the Night Courts’ fields, among similarly tall, pale yellow grasses? Though he hadn’t been alone then, with his companions running beside him. Well, not quitebeside. The others were more supportive of each other, but he’d made a competition out of everything. He’d always tried to run ahead, walk a step in front,dance a touch more gracefully.

But now he had to walk the last quarter of the trail, stumbling up to where Octavius waited.

The healer passed him a mug. "Drink some water. Rest a moment. It’ll take time, but you will get stronger," Octavius commented as he collapsed into a chair after only one short trip around the cabin.

Castien’s soft laughter drew a cautious look from his companion. His attempted elegant wave was an awkward, jerky motion that only made him grimace. "Sorry. I was just thinking how I can hardly walk straight now, much less dance. I danced beautifully—some clients only attended the performances to see me."

His eyes burned and blurred. "Did they take that from me, Octavius?" he whispered.

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