Page 143 of Shadows and Roses

"Chains," he scoffed. "You could have run away with us. You enjoyed a taste of ‘freedom’ but you willingly walked back to your cage every time."

True. Castien had toyed with the idea of joining his friends, but he saw the way they lived. It wasn’t simply his comfort—he could provide for them, help them. It was never so simple.

Castien asked softly, "How did the streets make you a murderous bastard, Damon?"

"If you’d lived with us, maybe you’d understand. The streets are kind to children, but we grew up. Darcy married because she was getting too manylooks. The palace’s poison seeps into the streets. We all learned how to kill, Cas. How to defend ourselves."

"But you took it further."

"That poison makes more monsters every day! We can’t live in peace with monsters. They’ll always find a way to destroy us."

"So you decided to butcher children and kill a Queen."

Damon glared, his lips twisted in disgust. "The child was an accident. And I wasn’t going to kill your little lover. She’d be useless dead—her steward seems competent enough until they pick a new Queen and everything continues as it always has. No, she would have been my puppet, doing as I commanded. At least, until we killed all the other bitch Queens and their courts."

"You’re mad. She would never bow to you, and the rest of us wouldn’t let her."

"Us? After Kevam, after Nadraken, I hoped you’d see…" Damon laughed. "Ah, what does it matter now? Your lady won."

Castien stared at the ground for a long moment. "You were my friend. You saved my life. And yet you would have killed me?"

A flicker of a frown crossed Damon’s eyes. "You were in my way."

As if that explained everything. He did what he thought was necessary. Wasn’t that Anais' justification?

Scowling, Castien pulled from his pocket a small bottle filled with yellow dust.

"Our healers matched this powder to the residue in the Queen’s wine. This was in your room. What is it? Poison?"

Damon eyed the bottle. "They sent you to interrogate me? Taste it, and I’ll tell you."

Castien frowned.

"Afraid? As I said, I wasn’t interested in killing your Queen. She’s fine, isn’t she?"

He lowered the bottle. "We’ll find out another way. Goodbye, Damon. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry." His fingers dipped into a pocket and pulled out a small chain. He tossed it into the cell.

Damon caught the necklace. His hand closed around the silvery half-moon.

"Castien. Say goodbye to them for me." There was a faintly pained note in his tone.

The Escort nodded.

Anais

The dining hall was more crowded than usual. A herald had announced Damon’s execution and his crimes—treason, attempted murder of the Queen, posing as a noble, insolence, intent to overthrow the throne—the list was long. Exposing him as an imposter quieted any who might have come to his defense. Satryani made a show of disavowing the worthless peasant. Or rather, her circle did, which was much the same.

The guards brought Damon out naked except for the sturdy rope that wrapped around his chest and bound his arms to his back. A thick gag circled his head, stuffed into his mouth. They shoved him to the hearth.

His eyes found hers. Burning, all-consuming hatred was all that was left now that he no longer masked his true feelings. Her ice met his fire and neither looked away, but the grip around her heart tightened as rage twisted his face and he struggled against his bindings.

"Dance."

The nobles cheered and laughed as theydid for anyone walking the coals.

Guards yanked the rope, forcing Damon to stumble forward. His scream was muffled.

Castien stood behind and to her left. Though she couldn’t see him, she imagined his tense, taut posture and carefully blank expression. He had insisted on witnessing his friend’s execution despite assurances that he need not be present. But he refused to stay away, saying that Damon had been his friend, was his responsibility, and he would see this to the end.

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