Page 22 of Shadows and Roses

He shrugged. "Three years ago. Since you didn’t, they like to whine about the fate of their beloved lady."

Three years ago, they’d finally discovered her mother’s murderer: Countess CresceliaGamuth, a jealous, vain little snake. On the surface, it had been little more than a petty rivalry. The lady was possessive of one of the Queen’s lovers. Crescelia saw an opportunity and took it.

Anais had needed little excuse to strip the countess of her claws and, thereby, her station. But after the brief satisfaction of revenge came the wariness of suspicion. Jana had been too strong, too well-protected to fall to such a pathetic, weak creature.

It would have been so easy to be just like them. Butcher the countess, destroy her family. Torture them until they revealed the truth.Who really murdered my mother?

There were lines Anais would not cross. This one was so very thin.

She turned to Laureline. "Anything new from Magdus?"

The lady grimaced and shook her head. That trip to the count’s estate had been a complete waste of time. Their spy had disappeared—likely caught and killed since they hadn’t reported back yet.

Five years. Five years she’d waited to avenge her mother, and every time they caught the scent of proof, it vanished in the wind. Magdus wasn’t the culprit, at least not alone. He was too dull for that. She had a strong sense of who had done the deed, but motive and proof were still lacking. Without both, she refused to lash out like her careless court. But five years.

"Remind them of the consequences," she snapped at Vern. "Remind the whole damn court. We cannot allow any of them to step out of line." Not now, when war threatened closer than ever.

Vern bowed his head.

Octavius spoke, moving on. "The House of Shadows requested an audience. Several times, in fact. Their persistence has grown in the last week. Specifically, they wish to discuss the courtesan you contracted."

She was a little too aware of her left hand for a moment. "Castien? How has he been?" As though she didn’t watch him every time he walked into the dining halls. Curiosity, nothing more.

"Well enough. Better than most. I spoke to him the other day. He snapped at me." Octavius’ gruff amusement was a surprise.

Anais paused. "Did you have to hurt him?"

"No, my Queen. We were alone."

"Good. That might have made things more difficult." She sighed.

That courtesan was certainly satisfactory in appearance, and her nobles had been a touch quieter than usual, particularly when he sauntered into any room. No doubt he knew precisely the effect he had on every pair of eyes that followed his every movement. It was amusing that her court was so affected by one person—any of them could cut him down in a moment, but instead, they rubbed against him like a feisty wildcat on their favorite tree. They scratched and marked him, yes, but they hadn’t needed a reminder not to mistreat him.

The man himself seemed almost innocent, despite his profession. Everyone outside the nobility was innocent in comparison, but he felt different. He wasn’t childish or ignorant, and certainly not virginal or at all ashamed of his profession. But he was honest, intelligent, and honorable. His temper combined with his honor was going to get him killed.

Master Iberius had come close to outright refusing a contract. The Night Courts never refused her anything. Not out of loyalty, no, their motivations were much simpler—gold, favor, stature. His reluctance had only piqued her interest more. They’d even insisted on a representative while she signed the document—one final chance to convince her to choose another courtesan,anyoneelse.The Masters and Mistresses of the Houses knew how her court handled its servants, and this particular courtesan was apparently a prize they didn’t want to see harmed. Perhaps they’d learn to hide future talent.

But this contract was agreed upon and signed, even if she had been a hairsbreadth away from threatening their protection. The Night Courts enjoyed a near-sovereignty that allowed them to enforce rules even the nobles dared not disregard. By providing them with military support, they in turn offered generous gifts to the royal treasury. Even this prestigious courtesan’s services had, in the end, been a gift.

If they regretted their decision, it was too late.

Her claws rapped the table again, fitting into small, worn notches in the wood. "Tell them I’ll meet later tonight. Hmm, in the gardens. It’s a full moon, isn’t it?"

"Yes, my Queen," Octavius confirmed.

The gardens were beautiful in the light of the full moon.

An hour and several minor issues later, the council dispersed. She had just pushed back her chair when Captain Jerome opened the door and slipped inside again. He bowed to her, then cleared his throat.

Strange. If the captain had a message, he would’ve spoken without hesitation. Anais raised a brow.

"My Queen. I have a personal matter," Jerome said.

Thatwas intriguing. "Yes?"

He paused, then spoke as though pronouncing someone’s death, "I wish to request your blessing to pay my respects to Madeline."

Pay his respects? What did he…

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