Page 11 of Shadows and Roses

Shock had kept him from understanding what was clearly displayed the moment he first entered the dining hall. Now, that shock was forming into a small, heavy ball in his chest as his mind crowded with doubt. Was he truly any better off than a palace courtesan?

An hour of these disturbing revelations passed, then more courtesans joined their small group for physical training: stretching and light muscle exercise. The nobles wanted fit, beautiful, healthy toys—all servants included. At least this was normal; a courtesan knew to keep their body—their trade and tool—in perfect shape.

After a quick dip in the bathing chambers, it was time to do their jobs. Four other courtesans walked with him. After a round of introductions, they didn’t know what to make of him; he was a courtesan, yet not one of them.

Conversation died anyway as the dining hall doors came into sight. Backs and shoulders straightened, steps lengthened into sinuous glides, and brightly painted smiles began their performance.

The nobles must have been waiting for them. One of his companions was shoved against a wall immediately, the noble thrusting into her within moments. Another was leashed in a more leisurely manner but no less quickly. The rest of them made it halfway to the banquet tables before they were picked off.

Castienreceived special treatment.

Gliding toward him was an Escort, his movements almost as elegant as a House courtesan. Studded leather bound his wrists. Escorts. The rumors about them were twisted and tangled, but every one of them horrible. The nobles parted before him like waves on a beach—receding, then closing behind him.

With a lopsided grin, the Escort said, "Castien. The Queen requests your presence."

Castien’s eyes flicked to the throne. She was watching them. A small, possessive smile curved her red-painted lips. Her hand extended, a single finger unfurling, the claw beckoning.

Any hope of avoiding her attention was gone. "Lead the way."

The Escort’s grin spread wider, and he shook his head as he turned.

Vaguely, Castien noted the nobles' disappointment. They wanted to leash him, but a brief glance at the Escort was enough to turn them aside. Not only that—Castien caught fear in their eyes. Even the cruel nobles were afraid of this man.

Castien examined the Escort. Baron Darius Malum, third son of the Count Malum of the Golden Gardens if he remembered correctly. Rumored to have an unpredictable temper that was only revealed by the depth of his blade in your gut. The baron sauntered casually, his steps smooth and confident, an easy smile on his lips. Blonde hair, brown eyes, dressed in white and black silk with the outline of a red rose stretching down the length of his back. Castien’s instincts didn't sense danger, but the nobles bowed respectfully. All of them, not just other barons and the lower ranks.

Clearly, his instincts were wrong. Observation beat instinct, but…

"Castien." The Queen's cold croon interrupted his contemplation. They'd made it to the dais. "What a delightful specimen. Come, sit with me."

It was a command if he ever heard one. Castien walked up the stairs and bowed deeply. "My Queen, a pleasure and an honor."

Her whip rolled around his wrist as he straightened. A tug and he was practically dragged to her side. The nearby nobles laughed.

He had almost pulled away from the leash. That was an instinct he needed to break immediately.

Taking a seat beside her, he eyed the Queen’s table. Platters of meats and fruits spread before them. He hid a scowl at the waste—hardly a small fraction of it was likely to be consumed. Sure, the servants ate well, but still plenty was tossed away.

A small insult against the injury of the exorbitant wealth on display. Silver and gold dishware, hardwood tables, large stained glass windows, the entire floor made of marble—and that was just the start.

The noble homes he’d served in were luxurious. They had enough wealth to spend on him, after all. But they did not abuse their courtesans.

Questions fought for space on the tip of his tongue. He held them in. Her gleaming emerald eyes raking his body didn’t invite conversation. Proving him right, she gave him a cold smile. "Show me something the Night Courts taught you. Entertain me, my shadow."

The whip loosened a little, allowing him some movement.

Entertain, not please. Wording wasn't always indicative of desires, but she appeared to be waiting for him to perform a trick, not seduce her. Castien dislikedtricks. He wasn’t a dog called to heel.

His gaze caught on a plate of artfully arranged pastries near her hand, with a miniature knife set to the side.

"May I use the knife, my Queen?" He nodded at the utensil.

She passed it over with the blade between her fingers and amusement on her lips. "Thinking of stabbing me?"

The back of his neck prickled, imagining her guards’ swords already there. Yet he still said, "And if I do?" as his hand curled on the handle.

Her smile widened with the barest hint of actual warmth. "You are welcome to try," she purred. Her hand opened as though she was offering him a target.

Without breaking her gaze, he flipped the knife and slowly extended it toward her, stabbing a grape on her plate.

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