Page 133 of Shadows and Roses

A recruit from one of the extremist factions, perhaps? Castien wanted to investigate, but his priority was Damon. "Like a Queen, but male. Do you know when Damon will be free?"

Jerrl looked more confused, then shrugged and said, "Not sure. I'll tell him you're looking for him."

Wondering why Damon hadn't shared his interest in kings and emperors with Jerrl, Castien decided it was not his business. "Thanks." He headed out of the room.

"Castien."

He turned back. Jerrl took a breath.

"Thank you. For coming to the funeral. Kev would’ve appreciated it. I mean… Thank you."

Castien stepped close and wrapped his friend in a hug. "He was my friend, too. I'm so sorry."

"Oi!" A trainee shouted. "If you guys are gonna kiss, hurry it up. Some of us have things to do!" Snickering rose from the crowd.

Castien growled but his friend patted him on the back. "It's fine, they know. And they know I'll kick their asses."

Castien left him to shouts about respecting Escorts, the questionable morality of theirfathers, and an outburst of laughter.

Anais

Today, the steward and captain stood behind her as she sat by herself on the dais. She was glad to be alone with her thoughts—as much as she could be in the Great Hall. Delia had backed down, due as much to internal conflict as Lord Magdus’ claim. His legion was easy enough to track. All of the mercenaries were slithering south. Satryani’s orders, no doubt.

Did the duchess have enough? Enough for what? To win a war with Nadraken? Unlikely. To split Drantar in half, forcing the Queen to join the war or cause a civil war? Almost definitely.

And then there was Damon, haranguing her with demands—attack the nobles now, start the civil war themselves, then finish off the rest. Satryani’s circle was forcing their people into these militias, tearing apart families, marching them toward their deaths. The duchess had offered Damon an advisory role by her side. Anais wondered if he was encouraging her to start the war as well.

Dark silk shimmered at the entrance to the Great Hall. Castien. The bright gold dragon woven into his shirt seemed to writhe as he walked. None of the other Escorts quite managed that twisting, sinuous motion. He’d lost absolutely none of his grace from his ordeal. She wasn’t the only one to notice.

Anais let her gaze wander away. Patience. Everyone needed patience, including herself. He seemed better lately, but today, she couldn’t watch him dance with the ladies, smiling that cold, empty smile until he chose one to focus his attention upon.

Surprising her, he stopped in front of the dais. Bowed. "MyQueen."

His voice washed over her, low and soft. There was something different about it.

A few seconds later, she lazily looked him over. "Escort."

If her mask wasn’t perfect, she might have broken down in tears right there. That look in his eyes wasn’t cold or empty. Concerned, resigned, perhaps determined or angry—but not cold.

He stepped forward, gliding up the dais, and bowed again before taking a place behind her, to the left of the steward, she sensed. His presence burned her awareness. Anais focused on the snakes, noting which glanced at her courtesan, wanting to tear out their eyes for even looking.Mine. Her fingers tensed.

A messenger burst through the doors, quickly approaching the dais. Bowing deeply, the woman held out a scroll that a nearby guard passed along to her captain.

She read the scroll.

Read it again.

Cruelty. Practicality. If she did this…

Necessity.

Handing it to the steward, she gestured idly. "Read it." Her voice rang. The crowd hushed.

Vern paused. She skewered a sausage, nibbled.

"Sister Anais,

"Greetings from Queen Yelena of Nadraken. May you find use for the sweet shadow that slinked back to your court. He was of great amusement to mine—most accommodating. For a time.

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