Page 116 of Shadows and Roses

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 wasstanding 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."

"Wearea 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.

Chapter 33

Castien

The nobles’ touch became abhorrent. Their lies, their scent, their avarice. They were not Anais. They did not have her peculiar mix of dangerous ice and fire that burned and melted him, seared and calmed him.

That didn't mean he avoided court. There was nowhere else to go. His friends no longer trusted him, and he hardly blamed them. Neither Damon nor the Queen needed his presence destabilizing their wary peace.

It was worse in the Queen's Wing, where the Inner Circle cast suspicious and judging looks his way. As he deserved.

The next time he saw her there dragged a jagged knife across his heart. Her smile had faded and her court mask lowered. The Queen looked at him. Not Anais, not the woman who laughed with children and danced with joy. Jerome openly glared. The captain gripped his sword and took a step toward him, only stopping at the Queen’s command. Castien wondered if he would have bothered to defend himself.

He stayed out of the Queen's Wing as late as possible, heading straight to his room and ignoring everything else. Especially the children. He shouldn’t—couldn't—be near them with hisvolatile temper and filthy hands.

—

The dining halls were fuller than usual. Spring harvests made for grander feasts—bait for the cruel mice. A pity there was no trap.

Castien glided his way through the crowd with a full plate in hand. While searching for a seat, he spotted Marlow at the same time the eunuch noticed him. Marlow changed course to stand before Castien, the Master’s hand reaching up and hovering in midair.

"Oh, even with those scars on your face, you’re a pretty boy. But your skin, a travesty." His face was a caricature of sorrow as he examined Castien’s exposed chest.

Before he could think, Castien snatched the man’s hand from the air and brought it to his lips. He kissed the palm of Marlow’s hand. The man froze.

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