Page 55 of Shadows and Roses

An embarrassed smile curved her mouth. "I best leave first. Jerome didn’t likethe idea of my being alone with you."

That cautious amusement in her eyes—she was trying to lighten the mood. And he found it difficult to resist her.

"What a loving family," he said with a softer smile.

"You get used to it." Her teasing smile faltered. They’d never be his family.

Jerome was glaring murderously as expected, and Vern stood too casually against a wall. Castien offered the steward a smirk, earning himself a sharpened stare.

His mockery faded when her hand brushed his arm while she explained their agreement. Vern's speculative look made him realize he was smiling fondly. Stupidly.

No one loves a whore.The first thing a courtesan learned was to guard their heart. A client might treat them kindly for an hour or two, even a few days, but they would never truly care. No one here expected him to be a courtesan, but it was simply who he was.

And, of course, Anais was the Queen. Perhaps she'd play with him, but it could never be more than that. No, he couldn't be stupid enough to consider her anything more than the Queen.

The palace was beginning to feel like home. Those potted plants he was nurturing on the windowsill, the clothes he was all too comfortable wearing, the rose scent permeating the halls. Her scent.

This trip away from the palace, from her, would clear his mind. Had to, before he found himself trapped forever in this gilded cage.

Chapter 14

Summer market. The Night Courts let their children run errands and wander freely most days. His House was situated farthest from the market square, but still within walking distance.

It wasn’t the markets he was riding towards. One summer, when he was eight years old, he'd wandered down a poorly kept side street. He remembered the buildings looking small and empty, with much of the area overgrown. He'd imagined they were ancient ruins, but pushing through the tall grass only revealed abandoned cottages. Disappointed, he started heading back to the market when he heard excited voices chattering in one of the homes. They sounded like children.

They were—eight youths about the same age as himself. Five boys and three girls wandered around the cottage, some talking, some chasing insects in the grass.

He crept through the grass as stealthily as he could, listening to their conversation.

'I want to live in the forests, where no one will find us and we can hunt and fish for food.'

'I've never seen a forest.'

'I have! The Silver Briars! I was there with my papa on a hunt, it's huge! There are so many trees and they're so tall! You could get lost in there forever!'

'Hey! Who're you?! Are you spyin'?'

One of the girls smacking a stick at the grass spotted him. They shoved him into the open.

He sulked. 'No! I mean, I wasn't trying to. It's just, I've never been to a forest.'

A serious-faced brown-haired boyfrowned at him.

'You look like a little lord. What're ya doin’ in our streets?'

'I'm not a lord and I didn't know these streets belonged to anyone.'

Another boy grinned. 'Yeah! You gotta pay if ya wanna be onourstreets. Those buttons look nice.' He pointed at the cufflinks on Castien's sleeves, silver pins inset with tiny garnets. Castien shrugged and took them off; he had plenty and they weren't his favorite anyways. The children eagerly grabbed them, then the first boy nodded.

'Ok, you can stay. My name's Damon.'

Kevam was the youngest boy, and Jerrl, who suggested the pins, his brother. Darcy and Relyana were sisters. Olive, Fren, and Marcus were orphans. Damon appeared to be the ringleader. He was both quiet and stern but also had the most daring ideas.

They became close, as children easily do. Castien had friends in the House, but not quite like these, wild and free. And it was nice to have something that was his, that didn't belong to the House. Friends who didn’t see him as a courtesan.

When the House started training Castien in earnest, they gradually limited his freedom until guards followed him wherever he went. His city friends weren't the type to stay around guards. Still, he found ways to slip out for brief visits. As he gained gifts for his services—trinkets that could feed a family for a moon—he’d pass along a few now and then, unasked for and often unacknowledged. Damon joked that the lordling was still paying for his right to be on their streets.

They’d made a pact. His friends would build a home in the Silver Briars, a cottage like the one they once squatted in. When he was released from his bond, he would join them. It was a childhood fantasy that he'd let go of long ago. They hadn’t spoken of the cottage for years.

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