Page 14 of Shadows and Roses

"Count Magdus is destroying his vineyards?" Laureline’s incredulous voice brought Anais to the present. The older lady squinted at the messenger scroll, a cup of tea wobbling in her other hand. As she tilted her head, the feathers in her hat dipped to brush the top of the scroll. She puffed it away. "He loves those vineyards. Boasts about his wine every year."

Anais' eyes followed a feather on the verge of dunking into the lady’s tea. "It’s about time we paid the count a visit. I’ll be dutifully shocked and dismayed."

They sat in her study, discussing the scroll among other matters. Her mind kept drifting to dark eyes and deft hands. A courtesan skilled with a knife was unexpected.

She frowned at the scroll. On the surface, it was a report of the southern border’s troop movements. Hidden in the text was a very short, coded message:clearing land, added buildings, barracks?

Count Magdus’ land was mostly composed of vineyards. The only space for more buildings would be right on top of his prized grapes. He wouldn’t destroy them for anything trivial.

Anais absently flexed her left hand. She stopped the motion as soon as she noticed it. "I’ll need you to join me."

Tea almost spilled as Laureline waved her cup. "Naturally. My little birds know better than to send such a vague message. There must be an urgent reason. Tomorrow, then?"

"Next week." A Queen didn’t go dashing off to the countryside or barging in unannounced on her nobles’ lands. Everything would be easier if she could.

She glanced at her hand again, catching her fingers flexing, stretching like a cat in the sun. Her hand hadn’t felt so relaxed in moons. That House courtesan had been different—compelling, elegant, fascinating. His touch had sent a tingle up her arm, followed by the soothing warmth of his skin. She sensed he was holding himself back, out of fear or caution she wasn’t sure, but his horror had been obvious. That, she could work with.

Chapter 4

Castien

Castien’s first week passed without the Queen’s summons. He’d spent the remainder of that day tense, glaring at his instructors, just waiting to hear the snap of a whip. The lady Jania noted his restlessness and dismissed him to the training yards since, "You obviously haven’t the patience for a lecture."

His temper cooled by the time a soldier knocked him on his ass. There were worse ways to gain bruises. The soldiers were kind, or rather, highly disciplined with no room for cruelty, which equated to kindness as far as he was concerned. How they could tolerate serving under their cold Queen, he didn’t understand.

Her hand hadn’t been cold. Her voice, when she’d spoken only to him, had almost been intimate. He didn’t want to think about her, about when he’d be forced to serve her.

While traveling between wings and learning his way around, he slowly grew accustomed to the constant shock of the nobles’ debauchery. The courtiers found his aversion to their pleasures amusing, but they constrained themselves to taunts until that week ended.

This morning, he entered the Great Hall alone, a bit late after checking on Jesamin. The healer’s wing wasn’t exactly on the way, and he had no business being there, but a bit of the knot in his chest loosened when he saw her weak smile. He left before she tried to speak and wasted her energy on him.

Castien was distracted wondering how to apologize as he strode toward the banquet tables. The whip that rolledaround his wrist had to tug him back.

"There you are." Cinnamon and cloves breezed by.

Castien recovered quickly, turning his awkward stumble into a bow. "Lady Marissa, good evening."

The lady dragged her eyes down his chest. "You remember me. Good. So much better behaved this time. I suppose I should send Marlow my compliments."

It was an effort, but he mastered himself, bit his tongue, and lowered his chin in another small bow. The nobles like deference. He was nothing if not a quick study. Beneath his skin, anger twisted.

Her clawtips settled on his bare chest. "No one’s touched you? I’m the first?"

"Yes, lady." She meant in the bedroom. An odd combination of anticipation and dread settled in his stomach. He knew his trade, but he was losing his footing the longer he stayed in the palace.

She scratched him lightly. "Not even the Queen?"

Would his House bother with a fee if she made him bleed? "She has not honored me with a summons."

"Good."

She dragged him out of the Great Hall. For a moment, he was worried she’d take him in a dark corner like any other servant, but she headed toward the nobles’ apartments. This wing was on the opposite side of the palace to the military wing and closer to the dining hall. Two large wooden doors stood open with guards on either side. They glanced at the lady’s wrists, smirked at the courtesan, and looked away.

Plush rugs lined the floor, vivid paintings the walls. The lady strode quickly, but Castien had plenty of time to note the luxurious ornamentation. Garish, in his opinion. Paintings didn’t need gold frames, and he didn’t doubt that was real gold hugging the canvases.

The lady halted halfway down the hall to unlock a door. They’d arrived. He hoped her rooms weren’t quite so painful on the eyes.

As the door slammed shut, Marissa wasted no time stripping off her clothes. A pity, Castien thought as he followed her to the bedroom. The seduction of sliding silk shouldn't be underestimated.Ah, well.

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