Page 86 of Shadows and Roses

Chapter 24

Anais

Damon next appeared in the palace as a traveling artist, here for the solstice. A con artist was also called an artist, she supposed.

They sat in the gardens, surrounded by a cacophony of birds from her menagerie. An easel stood between them as he pretended to paint her.

His eyes flicked up, his paintbrush bobbing on the canvas. "I was told you collapsed when Castien arrived. Is he your lover?"

Blunt, as she was coming to expect from him.

The guards had cleared this area, and the birds would muffle sounds for any intrepid eavesdroppers.

"He is an Escort—one of my friends. You would not have been so unaffected had you seen him then," she replied, watching the little birds flit about.

"Such a soft heart," he murmured. He exaggerated a few brush strokes, squinting at his work in appropriate artistic guise. It was almost comical.

"I want to see him," he said.

She shook her head. "The healers insist he not be disturbed. He’ll be moved to a cottage when he’s stable; you can visit him there."

He dipped his brush. "He’s safe because of me. I have a right to see my friend with my own eyes."

All fair and true. She contemplated the birds, then said, "I’ll speak to Octavius. It’s the healers’ decision. Are you readyto discuss the alliance? I would think the movement wants to change things faster, yet you drag your feet."

Damon smiled with a corner of his lips. "My captains want to meet you. Seeing as how I’ve ventured into your welcoming embrace, we extend the same hospitality. Well, not quite the same, but you understand." He glanced at the stone walls.

Her brows flew up. "You can’t be serious. They’re more than welcome to come here."

"That’s not the point. Accept our invitation, my dear, or we go our separate ways. Trust must flow in both directions, and my people do not trust you."

A Queen at the beck and call of a rebel, indeed.

"I’ll discuss this with my Escorts. Jerome hardly lets me travel anywhere without an army; I doubt your people would appreciate soldiers surrounding wherever you’re set up."

"You won’t need any guards. I personally guarantee your safety."

She smiled faintly. "Would you like to try to convince my army of that?"

His brush flew. "I’m sure the Dark Queen can handle her own subjects."

"My captain, at least, will find a way to follow. He’s done it before. I’ll convince them, but I’ll need guards. A minimum of a dozen."

He hummed, painting a corner of the canvas madly. "Too many. Five. We don’t gather in large groups. My people will feel safer if they’re not outnumbered."

Jerome was definitely going to have a fit. "I’ll see what I can do."

A charming, wide smile flashed on his lips. "Wonderful. To a fruitful meeting, then. We’ll send a messengerwith the time and place."

With one last twist of his wrist, he stood and turned the painting to her.

She tilted her head. "Passable."

"Truly?" He grinned.

"For a child."

He scowled.

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