Page 137 of Shadows and Roses

Castien scanned their faces. "Do what you must. I need to report to the Queen."

He left the room as a few of the others followed Jerrl, the remaining captains’ voices rising as the door closed.

—

"Where is the Queen?"

It should have been an easy question to answer. Her bedroom guard didn’t know. None of the guards could tell him. Jerome would eviscerate them all when he returned to duty.

Fortunately, the Queen's Wing wasn’t terribly large. He could’ve searched for hours if this were the nobles’ apartments. The ring of clashing metal echoed in the halls. No one sparred this late in the night. He raced down the hall.

Blood pounded in his ears. He almost stopped to calm himself. The urgency could all be in his head. Anais was fine. She could take care of herself. She was deadly with a blade. Or perhaps she was simply taking out her frustrations on a practice dummy. Maybe the sound came from restless guards. He could be rushing to embarrass himself.

He snorted. His steps didn’t slow. A little embarrassment would be good for him. If that was all he suffered tonight, he’d thank the gods and maybe even turn religious.

Chapter 38

Anais

Candles flickered, casting shadows throughout her chambers. Dancing shadows. A huff by her side drew her attention down. Anais ran her fingers absently through the wolf pup’s fur. Ash’s head turned a moment before a gentle rap at the door—the usual soft knock that her guards used.

"My Queen. Lord Damon requests an audience."

This late at night? Perhaps he was still hopeful for her affections. Stifling a sigh, she gave the guard her assent.

Damon strode into her room hugging a bottle of wine. "My dear Queen Anais," he greeted with a broad smile, dipping into a deep bow.

Ash growled. Her hand on the pup’s head silenced the sound but the creature's hackles remained raised.

"Damon. It's late." The words were harsher than she intended. She offered a slight tilt of her head and a smile to soften it.

"Please, do forgive me. That’s why I'm here—to apologize for that day on the hunt. I was too forward."

She relaxed a bit. "No need. I'm glad it's not an issue."

He waved a hand, then extended the bottle. "Of course not. A lady’s rejection always stings, but I would never hold it against you. I pilfered this wine from the cellars to offer as an apology. I know, I know—gifting you your own wine. But will you share a glass with me? As friends and allies."

The man was an unrepentant, brazen flirt. Combined with his crooked smile andhandsome features, she wouldn't have resisted if her heart wasn't already thoroughly set on a man who ran from her like the plague. At least the panic in Castien’s eyes had finally vanished. Instead, he seemed like a lost puppy who couldn't figure out how to cross the chasm that separated them. She tried. There had been invitations to casual gatherings where he wouldn't feel the need to speak to her, but she would be available. He never attended. And after today? No, Castien was unreachable.

Damon had no such uncertainties. If she ever suggested a hint of interest, she'd probably have to fight off his advances.

Nodding at the glasses in a cabinet, she moved to the small table next to the window and ushered the pup out the door. Animals really didn't like Damon.

"As friends and allies," she murmured.

He sat across from her. His motions were smooth and practiced when he poured the wine, his manner gracious and graceful. It was almost natural.

Certainly, none of her court would have noticed or cared about the small oddities in his behavior—such as how he never called her Queen except in mockery, flattery, or absolute necessity. And how his mask was too perfect as he stared intently into her eyes, carefully avoiding her lips or examining any other part of her. Likely he was still infatuated.

But his words came easily, his banter friendly and insinuating nothing. In the midst of a story, his imitation of her ridiculous court had her in laughter and accepting another glass of wine. Somehow, the midnight bell was ringing and the bottle was empty.

He'd moved to stand by the window, moonlight limning his body, highlighting his rugged beauty. Glowing muscles and shining hair brightened in her wine-addled eyes. Her instincts kept insisting that he couldn’t be trusted, but, perhaps this time, she was wrong. Perhaps Castien— Perhaps her heart wasaffecting her judgment. If he asked again, she might not refuse just a taste.

Damon leaned sideways against the window, smiling at her. "I was thinking. Care for a rematch? I'm still sore over how easily you won our first bout, but I've been improving with your Masters-at-arms."

She sipped at the last of the wine in her cup, taking a moment to understand that he wanted a sword fight. She giggled. "We're drunk, Damon, we'll just hurt ourselves."

He grinned. "I feel fine. See?" He pushed off from the window and spun in a few circles, bowing deeply after a final spin. "Surely the deadly Dark Queen can’t be defeated by a little wine?"

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