Page 134 of Shadows and Roses

"A shame that he was so weak and soft. We’ve heard so much of your esteemed, terrifying Escorts, but perhaps we were mistaken. Perhaps dear, lost Drantar needs an infusion of strength from her neighbors? You have but to ask, Sister."

He stopped at her casually lifted hand.

Stillness and silence claimed the hall. She thought she could hear Castien’s beating heart.

Idly swishing a cup of wine in her right hand, she scanned the rage and disgust threading the room. Movement began. Heads turned. Whispers.

"They think us weak," she mused slowly, softly, staring at the rolling red liquid.

The crowd bent to hear.

"They broke a new toy and thought him equal to one of our court." A noble would break faster. And how fast would he break at her words? She let a hint of her anger through.

Her left arm swept out, fingers spread and raised. "Behold, my Escort Castien, Prince of the Night. Are you broken, pet?" Her chin angled slightly to the left.

She didn’t doubt him, but his warm palm on hers was still a relief.

He bowed over her hand. His voice rolled out smooth and strong. "As Nadraken could not keep me, my Queen, neither could they truly break me."

Then she caught his eyes. A glimpse only, but it was enough. He was so cold, so blank, not a single hint of emotion leaking through. No pain. No warmth. Nothing.

She wanted to beg his forgiveness, to explain the necessity, to say anything that might bring back that hint of light into his eyes.

There was only one thing she could do.

After a nudge toward the watchful crowd, she took back her hand. Her sharp smile followed his drifting steps down the dais. "If there is amongst you a spy for Nadraken, run and tellSisterYelena that she failed to breakeven the weakest of my court."

She watched him walk away, gliding so beautifully, a dragon amongst snakes. This time, she would not wait for forgiveness. She no longer expected it.

Castien

Chains and laughter. His wrists tingled. Every scar itched.

He displayed himself for her.

He crawled for her.

Danced for her.

Begged and cried.

Kissed her.

Fucked—

Memories clashed. Not this Queen. Not Anais. Downing a glass of wine cleared the bile from his throat. The drink went to his head too quickly.

Heneededto speak to her. Soon.Now. And not to ask permission to leave. No. He’d fight for them. He’d earned that, hadn’t he? She was worth fighting for.

His nails dug into his palms as he glanced at the pale orange sky. She would be at court, still. He paced his room.

Snatching Damon’s book from his desk, he strode down the halls.

Bowing heads and kneeling servants flashed by. The heavy wooden doors of the nobles’ apartments stood open, as always. He knocked on Damon’s door.

"Escort." A nearby guard stepped closer. "The lord left a few minutes ago."

Castien scowled. The book burned his fingers. He was finished with its nonsense. "Can you unlock it?"

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