Page 19 of Shadows and Roses

"And what does the poison do?" the same guard coaxed.

"They… they said it's from a snake. And that if I cut myself, I'd wish I was dead long before it killed me."

"Yet you intended to inflict this on children." Hard ice coated the Queen's tone, her nobles glaring and hissing at the girl.

"I-I didn't have a choice—!"

"I've heard enough. Send her back to Nadraken." She took a sip of her wine with a faint look of disgust.

"Alive?" A frown marred the guard’s brow.

The Queen's lips slowly curved but her eyes held dangerously sharp ice.

"Broken."

"No!" Shrieking, the girl twisted in a desperate attempt to escape. The nobles laughed.

A knife flashed, the blade small and oddly curved. The guard holding her struggled to keep her still, but once the girl saw the knife, she flinched and froze. Perhaps she should have tried harder.

The rest of her movements were quickly obscured by a few eager nobles with blades in hand, like sharks drawn to blood.

The Queen beckoned the two guards who had been pushed aside by the nobles. One ofher Escorts, the stern-faced man in armor, carefully took the odd knife from the guards. She examined it.

Her voice was quieter, no longer addressing the hall but it still carried; Castien was close enough and the room empty enough. And somehow quiet enough, despite the muffled screams coming from the pile of silks.

"A Nadrakenan knife. Have the venom tested, Captain." The captain bowed and left the hall.

"Well done, boys," she crooned at the two guards, then nodded at a nearby man dressed in silvery white silks and wearing a single bracer. He stepped forward to hand a small jingling pouch to each of the guards.

They bowed deeply before leaving the hall, veering around a slowly spreading trickle of blood.

Castien abandoned his plate. The Queen seemed not at all bothered by the carnage, but he could no longer swallow another bite.

The food did not sit well. Blood may be commonplace at the palace, but he doubted he would ever become hardened to the sight. That night, he dreamed of a girl screaming, her head attached to nothing, and all the pieces of her body scattered around him. Two more sleepless nights passed, his dreams plagued by death and blood and screams.

—

He stayed awake last night to dodge the horrifying images his mind conjured while asleep. His days were no less exhausting. As he stumbled out of his room, the Master of Courtesans happened to glance over. A gasp of horror and he rushed to Castien's side, his fingers dancing over his face, brushing under his eyes. "Oh, no, this won’t do. Youmustsee ahealer this instance. Straight to the healer’s hall with you. Go on, before someone sees you."

"I’m fine—"

"Go. Right now!" Marlow glared at him, hand curling on his dagger. Castien sighed and headed toward the healer's hall.

The strong scent of herbs and earth greeted him as he approached the hall. It was surprisingly quiet. He'd expected a constant stream of bloodied and broken bodies, but only a few of the cots were occupied. Perhaps they stumbled or were dragged in later at night, after the nobles fell asleep.

A young woman in blue robes approached, took his name and request, then disappeared behind a side door. Castien sat in one of the several chairs lined up against the wall next to the entrance. Ten cots were arrayed on opposing sides of the room with a red cloth hung over a metal bar separating them. Red to make the bloodstains easier to ignore, he guessed.

Two patients lay next to each other, talking quietly across the opened cloth. One's leg was bound and the other had an arm injury. They seemed otherwise fine; the tone of their conversation sounded casual. Another patient lay on his stomach with strips of cloth across his back. Every few seconds, he shifted and whimpered. Jesamin had been on that cot a few weeks ago.

The woman in blue stepped back into the room and addressed Castien. "Escort Octavius will see you."

"An Escort? For me?" He frowned. Why would one of the Queen’s personal attendants be here?

"Yes. Master Octavius is a good healer. Don’t keep him waiting," she said before moving toward the man on his stomach.

A Master Healer as Escort must be the Queen’s personal healer. Castien would prefer to avoid that pit of poison, but encounteringthem was an inevitability.

Or perhaps this man was a Master-at-arms. Upon entering the room, Castien recognized the gruff countenance and stout figure that was often present in the practice circles, sparring or training soldiers. Both a warrior and a healer. The military was relatively safe, if overeager in their training methods—perhaps this man was an exception amongst the Escorts.

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