Page 35 of Shadows and Roses

"Why are you telling me this?"

A tall wooden platform with thick branches thumped down between them and the Queen. The cage was set on the ground beside it, one servant hurriedly unhooking the door before scurrying away.

"I don't like the dance either," came the quiet answer.

Movement from the cage stole Castien’s attention. A rust-colored snake slid out, pausing to lick the air. Dark red-brown splotches ran along its body—a copperhead. The creature weaved up the makeshift tree, winding, coiling in the branches.

The Queen rose.

Shimmering red satin folded into black velvet, her dress settling like a waterfall of blood on a starless night. Turning and stepping in a single motion, she strode casually to the tree. Her steady hand drifted to the snake’s head, palm up and open. A flick of its tongue tasted her, and the serpent slid forward to settle its head on her offered hand.

The sharp intensity in her eyes caught him, held him, demanded he meet the challenge that was always there. Castien wrenched his gaze to a lower, respectful place.

This wasn’t the time to challenge the Queen.

"Come, Princeling," she cooed, beckoning with a curved claw. Softchuckles drifted from the crowd.

"Just dance," a hurried whisper as Castien straightened, gliding forward. Dance. But what were the steps and what would happen when he stumbled?

Don’t stumble.

Always, he was certain of his value. The few steps between them narrowed. Certainty was a brittle, foolish indulgence, now. He bowed, every motion exact, measured, perfect. The watching nobles sighed. An audience for the dance. Hmm. He wouldn’t stumble, and if he did—intention and accident only differed by confidence.

Castien lifted his head, straightened his shoulders, a smile on his lips.

"Castien." She enunciated every syllable in that cold, arrogant tone of hers. Yet he was drawn to the way her mouth shaped his name, how her lips parted at the end. In this bright light, her mouth was beautiful, terrible bait.

"Prince of the Night. Such a pretentious title the Houses gave you. I think I’ll call you ‘pet’." Her court crowed again.

Humble the servant. Slight humiliation didn’t bother him. His chin dipped. “As it pleases you, my Queen.”

Chuckling, she gestured, a slight flick of her free hand. A servant skittered to Castien’s side with a small cage, practically shoving it into his hands. The creature within squeaked plaintively. Castien lifted the cage.

Smiling that chilling, cruel smile, the Queen unhooked the door and ever-so-gently coaxed out a frightened mouse. She held it firmly, petting in soothing strokes until it stopped quivering. "Such simple little creatures. So easily tamed," she murmured, flicking an amused glance at Castien, who set the empty cage aside. He watched the mouse sniff cautiously at her fingers, pitying that it was too stupid to recognize a predator.

The snake didn’t move, didn’t even blink—until her arms glided together, one hand above the other, and the mousedropped. The poor little thing was blissfully unaware of its death when widened jaws snapped silently around it in a blur of motion.

Stroking the scaled head, she remarked idly, "So easily gobbled up."

Castien lifted his eyes to find the Queen watching him, tongue wetting her lips while her courtiers sneered and laughed quietly. He lowered his gaze before it turned into a glare. This was the game then. He was her prey, her toy, her entertainment to be humiliated and consumed by her court.

They would not find him easy prey.

The snake withdrew to digest its meal.

The Queen lifted a delicate golden chain from around her neck. A small whistle hung from the end. She put it to her lips, and a shrill, high-pitched call rang out. Her eyes turned to the large entry doors. He had a second to admire her pursed lips before, in the corner of his eyes, a small object dove toward them. Wings flared wide as it approached, gliding until claws gripped the Queen’s outflung arm, the long sleeves of her dress falling back to reveal a leather hunting bracer. Eyeing Castien, the hawk nuzzled the Queen's other hand. She stroked it gently with a claw, as though preening its feathers.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" she breathed, her voice too soft for the court to hear, her face turned as though whispering to the bird.

"Indeed, my Queen," he responded just as quietly. The bird was beautiful. It appeared in perfect health, strong, clean, and bright-eyed. Her wings spread and she shook all over, fluffing her feathers while keeping one suspicious eye on him. He returned the feeling. If he was a mouse to the court’s snake,what was he to this bird of prey?

A servant hurried over with a small bowl, bowing as he presented it to the Queen. She speared a chunk of meat and offered it to the patient hawk.

Still soft, she said, "A snake never sees a hawk coming. The silent dive, claws striking the head while she tears at the flesh. Have you seen a hawk hunt?"

Her tone confused him as much as the words. There was a hint of amused familiarity, as though she was truly curious. The conversational tone was somehow more disquieting than her cold commands. It calmed the tension in him while also making his back itch, wondering whenshewould strike.

Minding the nobles, he said, "I have, my Queen. A red-tailed hawk nested near my House—my former House. I watched it catch a few creatures over the years."

---