Page 34 of Shadows and Roses

"Can wait," Priya interrupted. "Come, Castien. Let’s begin."

The hint of eagerness in her voice should have been his warning.

While he was whisked off to the harried tailors for measurements, she remained with him, lecturing him about etiquette from the simplest behaviors as how low to bow, when, and to whom. As thoughheneeded to be told how to behave. Well, he’d wanted to understand the court. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but he listened as he stretched out his arms and lifted his chin. Rules wereweapons, if one knew how to use them.

—

The next day, as he was rushed out of the Queen's Wing in surprisingly well-fitting and beautiful silks, he realized Minister Priya in all her ramblings hadn’t mentioned what he should do during the ceremony itself.

And it seemed unlikely this harried lady would either.

Bowing stiffly, a woman in red and gold robes frowned as she met him outside the Queen's Wing. A dozen servants trailed her. "Escort— Courtesan— Castien. Sir, forgive me, I’ve not slept. A new Escort ceremony with hardly one day’s notice! The Queen has her reasons, I’m sure." Snapping her whip at a servant, she ushered the poor man out of the way and beckoned for Castien to follow at the same time.

After a minute, as she continued shouting at servants and guards alike, it seemed she’d entirely forgotten him. When she took a breath, he interjected, "I have a question, if you don’t mind, my lady…?"

She blinked at him. "Oh! I’m Lady Chrysalm, Mistress of Ceremonies. Please, we must hurry. You have the bracers? Yes, good." In the same breath, she yelled down the hall, "You! Boy with the empty hands! Check with the kitchens, they always forget the chocolate!"

Castien spoke again as soon as she finished her sentence. "Lady Chrysalm, is there anythingIneed to know for the ceremony? Anything I need to do?"

Her whip already shooting out to leash another servant, she paused. "What? Oh, no, just walk up to the throne and kneel, offering the box. They’ll take care of the rest." Her attention immediately turned to another servant.

That was more than he knew before. Castien thanked the flustered woman and followed quietly as she directed her servants and aides. Upon passing the gardens, two servants rushed through the hedges, murmuring about snakes. There wasa menagerie deeper in these gardens, Castien knew. He wondered what snakes had to do with the ceremony.

Castien woke this morning resolved to patience and endurance. He pretended not to notice when Lady Chrysalm whipped a clumsy servant. He set his shoulders and painted a smile on his lips as the doors of the Great Hall neared.

A night’s rest had evened his temper. The Escorts’ hall was quiet and calm, a welcome change to the nightly activities in the courtesan’s hall. His services had not been required, and he hardly questioned it after the minister was finished with him.

He absently smoothed the pure black silk of his shirt. Becoming an Escort could be an opportunity. A pang of guilt crossed his mind. He might as well have abandoned his friends, his last message so brief it was very likely rude. But he couldn’t risk being caught. He wouldn’t expose Damon’s spies or their connection.

When it was time, the herald announced him. No mention of ‘bastard’ now. The doors opened. Castien stepped into the hall.

A plush, deep red carpet ran the length of the room straight to the throne. To each side stood clusters of nobles in their varied attire. He focused on the throne, on the raised dais upon which the elaborate seat sat, on the wide table set with gold dishware. On the woman in that carved rose throne, matching his intense gaze.

All it took was one glance at those cold emerald eyes to burn his calm veneer into ashes. He would not be a toy like those men and women arrayed behind her, immaculately decorative and perfectly obedient—statues, each and every one. Even Madeline stared unseeing as though a puppet, no sign of the soft handmaiden from before. The steward’s dark gaze judged him, and Castienwidened his smile, baring his teeth.

Ornate box in hand, Castien glided alone on the plush carpet, his footfalls hardly making a sound in the quiet room. Coiled anger rode his muscles as he displayed himself for the court once again. This time they did not pretend to ignore him. This time, the seat beside the Queen was empty. His spine stiffened.

Up the steps, onto the dais. Lord Darius smoothly stepped in front of him. The baron’s rich tenor rolled over the room. "Who approaches the Queen of Drantar, Her Majesty Anais Renebris, First of Her Name, Mistress of the Realm, The Talons of Justice, Lady of Steel, Heir of Blood and Vengeance?"

Clearly a ritual. Castien almost smirked as the titles went on. With an irritated thought at his poor preparation, he improvised. His bow was precise and elegant with a flourish bordering on mockery, and he spoke in a stage voice, "Castien FitzUmbra of the Night Courts’ High House of Shadows, Prince of the Night." His own lofty title slipped. He couldn’t resist.

The nobles murmured, and the lord’s eyes widened in amusement. Darius inclined his chin slightly, briefly. "Welcome, Castien FitzUmbra. The Night Courts send their son to serve. The Queen accepts. Kneel."

Castien would never serve.

He kneeled, lifting the box with both hands. Darius took the offering and moved behind Castien. Servants rushed the dais.

While cages and platforms were quickly set up, Darius murmured, "I read your Night Court dossier."

This man knew everything about him then.

Darius paused as the servants cautiously handled a larger cage, a soft hissing and rattling making them flinch. He continued in a low voice, "It said you're a good dancer. That wasn't a lie, I assume?"

Castien matched his low tone. "The dossiers are completely accurate."

"This court is just another dance. You don't have to like it, but you do need to dance."

Castien was an excellent performer, but this was not a dance he knew. Even his long-ingrained training and experience on how to read and manipulate people hardly applied when the rules were entirely different.

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