Page 24 of Shadows and Roses

"Need I remind you all again why we keep our games contained in the palace?" It wasn’t a perfect containment, but there were far fewer deaths than in her grandmother’s time.

"It was only one peasant from the market, my Queen—"

"And next week, will it be just one or two merchants? Perhaps just a few fisherfolk another day? Do you like to eat, councilor? Do you like your silks and comforts, or would you prefer to sleep and feast on rotting corpses? Since that will be all that is left if we destroy our own nation like a wasting disease."

Count Jaysen spoke into the silence, "That's rather extreme, my Queen. You enjoy flesh and blood as much as anyone—sometimes we get carried away. Surely we can overlook a few lapses."

She favored him with a sigh. "That is why we bring commonersintothe palace. We don't need to stumble over hundreds of bumbling servants. No, their purpose is much like the stuffed roast pig at abanquet—for our pleasure. Taking more outside the palace only harms the crop. Surely, you can understand that, Lord Jaysen?"

The count’s lands produced much of the nation's meat. If he had not even the basic knowledge of livestock, he had no business being a count.

"I had not considered it that way, my Queen."

"Try, my lord. Good day, councilors." She didn’t wait for their reply, sweeping out of the room.

The council of nobles was only half the problem. She had to make them feel as though their opinions and concerns mattered, that she listened to and was influenced by their words, but also that she was reasonable and fair. Being only capricious would have been almost fun—favoring a different noble every meeting and pitting them against each other. But that would make none of them happy in the end, and they might decide a new Queen was better than a wholly unpredictable one. Neither could she favor any one faction—and of course the nobles had factions—for too long. Favoritism led to expectations led to disappointment and once again the entire court would be up in arms against her.

So far, capriciousness and ruthlessness with a dash of inexperience seemed to be acceptable. The first two years after her mother died had been chaotic, but there hadn't been any serious murmurings of treachery in the last three years. The relative peace would be worrisome if not for her Escorts. Between Vern, Laureline, and Darius, the day-to-day proceedings were almost tolerable. If necessary, an occasional show of the army’s strength usually tilted the fragile balance her way.

However, the years of inactivity bred discontent. The nobles were feeling constrained and stagnant, made worse by the ‘games’ she’d slowly introduced—weekly deaths halved and halved again, entertaining the nobles with their ownpunishment, going so far as to execute courtiers for breaking petty laws. It made for tedious and tense council sessions. Yet she preferred tedious council meetings to war.

At least the last meeting tonight promised to be interesting.

—

The Night Courts representative sat at a candlelit table within a small garden alcove. Two swan-shaped bushes, their arching necks forming the entrance, provided a semblance of privacy. The representative’s robe of glossy silver shimmered like a waterfall when he stood and bowed. "My Queen. You are as radiant as ever, an embodiment of starlight, and as keen as the winter winds."

The familiar flowery Night Court greeting sounded natural on his tongue. She found it tiresome.

"Master Iberius. I did not expect you, personally." She sat, her guards remaining outside the alcove.

"My deepest regrets for the sudden interruption to your day, Your Majesty. Thank you for receiving me so quickly." He inclined his head, silky strands of night-black hair curtaining his face not unintentionally. "In the effort to minimize my disruption, may I present my concerns?"

Curious. The Night Courts always spent—wasted—a minimum of ten minutes in flattery and idle chatter. Their continued request for an audience and willingness to skip this final piece of propriety meant they truly were worried. She waved her fingers casually.

"Thank you. As you know, we consider Castien to be an asset. We expect he will continue in our service after his bond is complete. In pursuit of that effort, we have a request on his behalf."

Thisplain speech was refreshing.

"Continue, Master Iberius. Before the night is done, if you will."

"Of course, my Queen. We ask that he be granted a protection equal to that of the Houses—as though he were in a House—while he is in your service. For that protection, he will agree to five more years with the House of Shadows and half his fees to the crown."

She allowed a small frown onto her face and chilled her demeanor substantially. "The purpose of his contract was full and unfettered access. With even the minimal protection of a guard, his value would be substantially decreased. You are asking for more than that."

The Master’s continued charming smile and relaxed posture was impressive to someone who understood masks intimately. She prodded at this one. "Do you not trust the abilities of the greatest courtesan the Night Courts have ever produced? Should he not be able to handle overly passionate clients? I’ve heard no complaints from him yet." The Dark Queen wouldn’t. A servant’s discontent was no concern of hers, and silenced quickly if voiced at all.

He dipped his chin a slightly more subservient degree, but nothing else changed. "I’m glad to hear it, my Queen. But our courtesans have no capabilities in self defense—thus the guards at every room in the Houses. While Castien rarely has need for a guard’s intervention, we understand that the royal court is a livelier place, prone to passions that we of the Houses find… difficult. Particularly after the first moon."

There, a flicker in his eyes. He understood he was treading a dangerous path by even hinting at her court’s proclivities. A servant’s first moon was an adjustment period. Her nobles were encouraged to refrain from their harsher activities, which they turned into a time for engendering fear and anticipation. Adifferent form of entertainment, making the final transition all the sweeter.

Tomorrow was this courtesan's last day of the snakes’ moderate restraint.

Master Iberius couldn’t know that she’d gladly accept any excuse to protect a servant in her court. Yet Castienhadbeen procured for a particular service. The relative peace was sustained by sacrificing people like him—curiosities, distractions, controlled drama of her fashioning.

A pretty toy to dazzle the nobles while she courted rebels.

In truth, she tired of the game. And this one—this man with his arrogant innocence—she loathed to see him broken like so many others before him. She indulged her court often enough. A little of her own indulgence was called for.

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