Page 49 of Shadows and Roses

"Then I will take it back when I wish."

The fear lessened—not entirely, but better. She bowed over the tray, then took it to their communal table.

Standing beside the bathing hall, the Master of Courtesans inclined his head just slightly.

Castien’s eyes lingered on Jesamin. It was too little. But if he could do this much, why couldn’t the Queen do more? He wanted to believe there was good in her. The children laughed and played. The warning with the hawk, the little slips in her mask.

He turned to leave. In the middle of his conflicted musings, he didn’t notice the lady approaching until she’d stepped right up to him.

"Marissa," he greeted with no amount of affection.

The lady smirked at his chest before flicking her eyes up. "Why, hello, Escort. If you didn’t find your pleasures here, I’llbe more than happy to tend to your needs." Her claws reached out, just barely not touching him.

Castien refused to step back. "I have no needs or wants that you could possibly satisfy."

Her smile faltered, then sharpened. "You’re still just a whore. The Queen will tire of you eventually." Brushing him as she moved past, she snapped, "Jesamin!"

The girl rushed over, bowing. "My lady—"

"This is new. Why do you have this?" Marissa snatched the girl’s hand, glaring at the leather on her wrist.

Jesamin glanced at Castien. "I…"

Marissa followed her gaze and chuckled. "I see. Mmm, you do have fine taste, Escort. She’s a sweet girl. Very different from the Queen." Laughing brightly, the lady dropped Jesamin’s hand. Instead, the leather of a whip encircled her other wrist. "You’ll serve me in the gardens today. Unless the Escort protests?"

He very nearly did. Jesamin shook her head slightly, and this time, he deferred to her more experienced judgment.

Mostly. "Take care of her, Marissa. I don’t like my toys broken any more than the Queen does."

The lady grinned wider, her laughter cruel as she left the courtesans’ hall.

Castien watched them go. Had he truly helped, or only made the girl more of a target?

As much as he wanted to ensure Jesamin’s safety, he feigned disinterest and returned to the kitchens. He needed to trust the bracers instead of gifting the nobles a way to provoke him.

The same man was already there, dressed as a messenger this time. Interesting. Castien passed him a slip of paper. Appropriate. "Tellhim I’m safe. If I know him at all, he’s preparing a rescue mission. Please refrain from being an idiot, my words exactly. He’ll recognize my signature."

The man nodded. "Is that all?"

Castien hesitated. "For now." He was still too uncertain. His friends would have to be satisfied.

Chapter 12

Castien swept his blade in a graceful arc. Octavius scowled and shook his head. Graceful, but not practical. Castien shrugged, shifted his stance, and tried again.

Ringing steel made him pause.

Anais strode into the otherwise empty combat circles. Castien's tutor slowly lowered his blade.

She snapped, "Octavius. Spar with me." Her eyes flicked impatiently to the courtesan. "He can observe."

Castien backed away while Octavius frowned. "Jerome—"

Her blade sliced the air to point accusingly at her guard, who stood still at the entrance. "My captain refuses to spar. Escort. Now."

The Master-at-arms grumbled and raised his practice sword.

"Live blades," she snapped. With a glance at Jerome's dark glower, Octavius complied.

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