Page 6 of Shadows and Roses

So the Queen did have priority. That was good to know.

The man gestured around the corner. "Go on. Join the line."

Rushed here to join a line? At least he was no longer amongst that hall of vipers.

One last thing. "Where is my guard? I’ve never left my House without a guard."

Marlow was already walking away. "Not here. Go."

Castien frowned, then carefully smoothed his features. No guard. The man must be mistaken.

He rounded the corner to find a few people standing against a wall, staring at a door. They glanced at him, then went back to watching the door. It creaked open at that moment, and a small man stepped out.

"Come, come." The man scowled at the woman closest to the door. She was dressed in a simple, worn but clean cotton frock. She scurried through the door with her head down.

More waiting. He stifled a sigh and leaned against the wall. At least he wasn’t starving anymore. Two others waited with him—one a hunched, older man, the other a gangly youth. Neither appeared to be courtesans unless the royal court’s standards were far lower than the Night Courts’.

With nothing better to do, he criticized the rug. It was old and worn, though mostly clean. Nothing like the artistic rugs that were replaced every year if not more often at his House. He’d learned to converse in art for the pleasure of his clients, but there was nothing artful in this hall. The entrance to the dining hall had been far more elaborately decorated—colorful banners, a sprawling tapestry opposite the door, and plush rugs to cushion gentle feet.

It had been a while since he was relegated to lesser accommodations.

By the time the door opened again, he had to stretch muscles chilled by the cold stone wall. The first woman walked out with a piece of paper, thanking the small man before leaving. The youth was beckoned inside next.

As the door closed again, Castien shook his head. "Bureaucracy," he mumbled.

"Keeps the world running, boy," the older man commented, his filmy eyes turned toward Castien.

"Of course, sir." Running efficiently was questionable, however. "Might I ask what you’re waiting for?"

The man smiled faintly. "I was a clerk in the palace until my eyes failed me. I’m hoping they can find something for me still."

"I’m sure they will, sir."

He tilted his head and squinted. "Such pretty manners in a pretty voice. Are you a courtesan?"

"Yes, sir. I’m from the Night Courts, here for the Queen’s pleasure."

The man turned aside. "Hmph. I won’t tell you your business, but I pity any of the courtesans here."

"It’s my first day, sir. Do you haveany advice for handling the court?"

"Don’t," he barked. Grumbling under his breath, he said, "If you have no choice—always obey. Always. I tell new people to stay out of the nobles’ way, but you can’t do that. Good luck."

"My thanks, sir."

The older man said nothing more. His last comment felt more like,good luck, you poor fool.

Chapter 2

The old man left empty-handed. It seemed he was the one who needed luck.

"Come on, we don’t have all day," grumbled the clerk.

Bemused, Castien finally stepped through the door.

The large room was filled with arranged haphazardly stacks of boxes - on the floor, on top of tables, even shoved into a few cabinets. Scrolls, books, and other documents appeared to be the primary occupants of the boxes. The youth from earlier was attempting to apply some organization to the chaos.

The clerk moved behind a table and shoved some papers aside.

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