Page 127 of Shadows and Roses

Her warmongering great-aunt was praying to a foreign god, and the rebel leader was growing a garden in the palace. It was all ridiculous enough to be amusing—if she weren’t worried about both of their motives.

Chapter 35

Castien

Castien stepped out of his room. Today. He’d talk to her today. The bright late-spring sun had practically slapped him in the face this morning. How was it almost summer already? How long had he made her wait?

The thought made his stomach tense. He’d already stayed in his room past training this morning, trying to decide what to say, what to wear. Enough excuses. He would find her today and, unless she commanded him to shut his mouth, say everything that needed to be said.

An almost certain way to find her would be to follow that wolf pup. The moment Anais entered the Queen's Wing, the pup immediately sprinted to her side.

On his way to the children’s hall, a guard rushed into his path, bowing quickly. "Escort. Lord Damon urgently requests your presence."

Damon never summoned him. It had only been a few days after the rebel attack. However, the court’s opinion toward the new soldiers had twisted into disdain and distrust. Convincing himself this wasn’t an excuse, Castien was nonetheless glad to follow.

Until they arrived at the nobles’ apartment. Several guards lined the hall outside one of the smaller chambers. Damon sat against a wall, his hands splattered with blood and a few bruises spotting his arms.

Castien stepped closer, eyed his friend. None ofthe blood appeared to be his. "Damon?"

His friend lifted his head slowly at the sound of his name. His eyes were hollow.

"Kev's dead."

"Kevam?" Castien's rapidly beating heart stuttered. He pushed aside a guard and ran into the room.

Dim candlelight glowed over a scene his mind couldn’t quite process. Soft hiccuping gurgles resolved into Jerrl's harsh sobs where he sat on the bed. A limp body lay spread out on the sheets—Kevam, his shirtless chest covered with dark, ugly bruises. Lines of blood trailed from his nose and mouth. Thick chains were tied to each of the bed posts, snaking limp on the sheets.

Nearby on the floor was another body, blood pooling beneath it. Silk strips circled his wrists.

Chains clanked softly.

Jerrl’s sobs were interspersed with quiet words. "No, no, no. No, Kev. Please.Please, Kev…" It was enough to force Castien into movement. He tugged the shaking and unresistant man off the bed, half-carrying him out of the room.

Outside, Castien glanced down. "Damon. What happened?"

Stunned and confused eyes looked up, staring at Castien while the courtesan supported their sobbing friend. "He… I… Jerrl and I were searching for Kev. He told us he was getting some more drinks, but he took too long coming back."

Damon swallowed, his eyes clearing somewhat. "We split up. Jerrl went to the kitchens. I went to the dining halls. We shouldn’t have split up. We shouldn’t have let Kev go alone."

He took a deep breath and continued. "On the way, I asked a few servants and guards. One of them said Kevam entered an apartment. Kev would never go with a noble—he hates them as much as I do. So I told a servant to find Jerrl, and I wentinto the room. I—" He choked.

Jerrl had calmed enough to pick up the story. He stepped out of Castien’s arms and leaned against the wall, his voice dull and quiet. "By the time I got here, a healer was leaving. Kev and that man were both dead."

Damon tried again. "The whoreson was trying to force Kev. He was tied up and gagged, and the noble was beating him. I pulled him away. We fought. I was so angry, my sword went through him before I knew what I was doing." He glanced at his hands. "What will they do to me?"

Castien shook his head. "Nothing. Don’t worry about that. How did Kev… what killed him?"

Damon mumbled, "The healer said internal bleeding. He'd been beaten too badly, he broke inside."

Beaten to death. The nobles fought and murdered each other on occasion; this death would be easily overlooked. The military was extended more civility. Usually. Kevam had been posing as Damon’s guard. It should have kept him safe. Safer, at least.

"I'm so sorry, Jerrl." Castien put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Jerrl stumbled away. "What are you going to do about it?"

"His murderer is dead. We'll have a funeral for Kev—"

Jerrl snarled. "Don't. Don't say his name if you're just going to put him in the ground and forget this happened!"

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