Page 119 of Shadows and Roses

"Is there something I can do? More than training. Something useful," he asked.

"There is… something." Octavius scowled again, but not at him. "It feels a touch disloyal, but I—and most of the Escorts—don’t trust the rebels. Especially Damon. We need them, fine, but we’ve accepted them too quickly. And Damon gets along too well with the nobles—anyone who is friendly with the court is hard to trust."

Castien winced.

Octavius snorted. "You weren’t friendly."

Moving away from that thought, the courtesan asked, "You want me to spy on my friends?"

"Bluntly, yes. We trust you. It was a bit rough recently, but we don’t blame you for that."

"I’ll think about it."

"That’s all we ask. Don’t do anything stupid or dangerous."

"Yes, sir." Castien smiled.

He found the other Escorts throughout that day and the next. As Octavius said, they readily forgave him. Thakris gave him a sassy, exasperated look. Laureline gave him a hat. He politely accepted the monstrosity and vowed never to be seen in public with it. Jerome wasn’t so kind, but Octavius must’ve spoken to him. The captain just went from suspicious and stern to curt and stern. Dependable man, that one.

Castien hesitated to approach Vern after the healer’s comment, but the steward listened. The cold in his eyes gradually lifted while Castien spoke, like a fog when the sun rose. Vern had offered a hand, his grip firm.

"We were watching you, Escort. There is a line some of us were waiting for you to cross. I’m glad you didn’t. You’re forgiven." Then his hand tightened.

"But hurt my daughter again, and I will personally cut out your heart."

Castien had stared, unable to respond.Daughter? Vern gave him a small, amused, faintly smug smile.

Vern was her unacknowledged father. Unacknowledged, safe father. The court didn’t know, but the Escorts must. He searched his memories for conversations—they were never explicit, were they? It was why they deferred to him. Not only because he was the steward. That had been enough reason for Castien, but the Escorts were family, not rank.

Assassin, the healer had said. It made sense. Vern’s anger was a slowly creeping fog that had completely enveloped him, only waiting to strike. Castien had noticed Vern’s eyes on him in the Great Hall. It chilled him as the steward walked away,how he would have never seen a protective father’s knife in the dark. An assassin’s knife.

Well, if he ever felt like being an ass again, that was one good reason not to.

But he still hadn’t approached Anais. If he examined his efforts to find her, he’d know they were half-hearted. He’d bow to her in the halls while nobles trailed after her during her daily appearances. By the time he returned from training, she would be in a meeting. But he didn’t visit her chambers in the early mornings or late nights when she was most likely to be alone. She needed her rest, after all.

Instead, he went to the children when she was in the gardens. The wolf pup had accepted the children as her pack and seemed to find him acceptable. She sniffed his hand and eyed him warily but didn’t protest when a girl ran up and hugged him.

He’d half-expected the guards to refuse him entry to the nursery regardless of his bracers. Bracers allowed by a Queen whom he’d barely spoken a few words to since returning to court. He couldn’t forgive himself—how could he ask her to? So he learned her schedule and kept busy. If she needed him, she’d summon him.

Confronting his friends was only marginally easier.

They spent most of their time in the barracks, a section allocated to the newly conscripted troops. Damon and the rebels he’d chosen as his guards had seen him since he returned to court, but Castien had never sought them out—ignored them just as much as the Queen. They would have heard the nobles talking about the state he’d returned in moons ago, and seen the way he acted since then. Like one of the nobles they hated.

It would be most difficult with Damon.

Deep breath.

"Damon."

Chapter 34

Damon turned with a broad smile from laughing with his companions, the expression quickly souring. "Escort Castien. What a pleasure." That tone wasn’t one Castien had ever heard before. Not directed at himself.

"I deserve that," he began. Had to start somewhere. He’d been doing this for days but it was no easier each time. "I’ve been avoiding you—all of you—and I’ve been acting the ass since I returned. I— my time in Nadraken is a terrible excuse, but it’s all I have. I’m sorry."

Jerrl snorted. "You seem to be doing just fine."

But the hard edge in Damon’s eyes softened. He glanced at Castien’s wrists. Not at his bracers.

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