Page 70 of Shadows and Roses

"My lifeisyours. Always."

She frowned. "As mine belongs to the Escorts, to the people. But don't you dare let yourself be hurt or taken, father. I won't forgive you."

"I'll keep that in mind, my heart."

Chapter 18

Castien

The world was shaking.

No, that wasn’t right. He was on a wagon. It was moving. Steel bars surrounded him. The orange glow of a torch. The rattle of metal.

Darkness buried his consciousness.

Light, fire, laughter. Pain.

Darkness again.

He blinked.

The blurry face of a woman came into focus through the bars. The world was still. He squinted, then winced in pain.

His captors had enjoyed beating him every night of their journey, tossing him into a small cage when he fell unconscious. Without enough space to lie down fully or stand up straight, he could only curl around his bruises, trying to take shallow breaths. Broken ribs stabbed at his lungs. He tasted blood with every meager meal they allowed him.

The woman spoke in a hard, clear voice. "If any part of him cannot be healed, I'll cut the same bits from the lot of you." He flinched at the sound, groaned at the sharp pain from his movements. She turned toward five guards, likely the same men who'd beaten him. "Never injure my toys, unless you desire to be their replacement. Do you? Would any of you volunteer to take his place?"

A chorus of apologies and begging began, then abruptly stopped. She walked out of his limited view but spoke again. "You will not leave until the healer declares this toy fit," she snapped. The sound of her boots grew softer. His vision wavered and he started to fall unconscious again, barely hearing the guards’ restarted conversation.

"We should just kill him. Say he died before the healer got here."

"Are you stupid or suicidal? He dies, so do we. Didn't you hear her?"

"We're worth more than a Northern whore, she wouldn't—"

"She's a Queen. They do whatever they want. Don't you remember that blacksmith she took a liking to? Escaped somehow and she flayed the guards, unlucky bastards…"

He drifted away, wondering if he would wake.

Anais

When her mother died, there had been a plan. Anais had simply followed every single step exactly as she’d been trained to do. Take control. Force the coronation. The details of the dress, the command that she not give in to her emotions—every minute of the first few days had been scripted. Rehearsed. Memorized.

Jana had her bright, joyful moments, but she was a Queen first.

Castien was an indulgence. A Queen wasn’t allowed to indulge. Anais had forgotten, she’d wanted something for herself, and nowshe paid the price.

Cold wrapped the pain, because if it did not, she'd break. She ignored the guards as she strode to her room, needing a moment alone, time to refocus and—

There was someone in her room. A dagger slid into her palm.

Darius sat up on her bed and caught her expression. He stood slowly, his voice low and calm, "I thought you might like—"

"No. Stay out of my chambers, Escort."

He stepped closer. "Maybe tomorrow—"

"Stay. Out."

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