Page 18 of Shadows and Roses

The guard returned to his post, but the noble hesitated. He stared at his knife as though not quite certain what he was doing with it. His lips moved, mumbling quietly, "If I purchase your bond, I could do whatever I want."

The girl flinched.

A burst of laughter came from the lady beside him. "Stop talking with your cock, Lord Mardrelan. You don’t have the purse to back it up."

The lord grimaced and his knife clattered to the ground. He waved Lily away.

Was that all that mattered to these people? Lives worth no more than gold. And so those who had no contracts or protection were worth nothing. Would this Lord Mardrelan find a servant girl as his next victim? No one would stop him then.

Castien had been considering passing on a message to the Master of his House. There were still too many questions unanswered, the terms of his contract unheard of, his freedom that should be moons away… A ray of sun caught the knife’s edge, and Castien caught his tongue.

—

The next morning, the dining hall was quiet. Few were the nobles who rose with the sun, though the Queen sat in her usual seat. She seemed to breakfast here a few days a week, always when the hall was half-empty. Often when he was able to steal an early morning, he felt her eyes following him.

Her expression rarely changed. The expressions of her companions were similarly cold and blank. Escorts. Hewondered what they were to her. Advisers? There was the council for that. Servants? They held themselves like nobility, not commoners. The stern-faced, armored man always standing behind her was undoubtedly a guard. Then there was the sharp-eyed steward. The rest, he could only guess.

Today, the steward sat with her, an older man whom Castien imagined could have a kindly smile, if he were capable of smiling. He hadn't played the Queen's game while she'd been away. A single death had been met with a public whipping, yet the nobles hadn’t seemed more than superficially annoyed. Whether it was an act of kindness or efficiency, Castien preferred the steward.

Castien quickly filled a plate and found an empty table. Food wasn't allowed in the training area, or he'd eat there. The Courtesan’s Halls only sporadically had provisions this early in the morning. Breakfast was often a rushed affair before he could escape into relative safety. At least the fare was good. Spiced succulent fish with freshly baked bread and watered ale today. Probably more fish for lunch and dinner, but he liked fish, and the chefs' herbs and spices were excellent. Sometimes it was the small things.

Niko sat across from Castien, picking at his bread and flicking a wary gaze to the nobles.

Castien leaned in. "The Escort sitting with the Queen—"

"I told you not to bother with them."

Smiling soothingly, Castien murmured, "I only wish to know his name. That would be good to know, wouldn’t it?"

The man frowned, darted a glance at the Escort in question, and paled. "Count Vern," he whispered. "That’s the count. He served the last Queen, and he’s… You really should stay far, far away from him." Twisting his lips, Niko shook his head. "I’ll see you at the training yard. Don’t want to be late."

Castien glanced over his shoulder. The count’s cold eyes pinned him for a second, then moved on. It was the look of a viper amongst this nest of seething, venomous snakes. Castien returned to his food. The rumors didn’t know what to make of Count Vern. He shouldn’t rely on rumors anyway.

A pair of guards dragged a naked, limp girl into the hall. Her body was splotchy with bruises, and she could barely stand when they stopped before the Queen. Murmurs rose from the nobles after they passed, a few pointing at the girl's back.

One of the guards gave their prisoner a hard shake before speaking. "We found this little mouse sneaking about last night. She tried to stab me, so we questioned her until she showed us this mark on her rump."

They turned the girl around and shoved her to her knees. Seared into her flesh was the image of a blazing sun, its nine points outlined in red.

"A Nadraken spy," one of the nobles hissed.

The girl roused herself and turned her head. "I-I'm not a spy! I was lost… and— and he startled me! I'm sorry!"

The guard holding her down shook her again and snarled, but the Queen interrupted.

"Then what are you? Why do you wear the mark of our sister nation?" she crooned. To an untrained ear, her voice might sound soft and melodious, but he knew better. Cold, distant, uncaring.

For a few moments, the girl only whimpered and cowered. Then she burst out, "I'm a slave! I belong to… a lord. He just purchased me, I don't remember his name. Truly!"

The other guard muttered, "That's not what you told me last night, girl. We don't have slaves in Drantar. Did you lie to me? Or to my Queen?"

The girl shrank as he grasped her chin. Tears began to run down her face and she quivered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please," she whispered.

"Tell the Queen why you’re here," he commanded.

She sobbed, gasping out her words. "I'm supposed to… they gave me the knife and said it's poisoned. They said if I… if I just cut a few… children… they'd let my family go. A life for a life… Please!"

The nobles' murmurs gained a sharp, shocked tone. Perhaps there was a line even they didn't cross.

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