Page 85 of Shadows and Roses

Yes. It would.

She smiled. "Let us see where the stones fall."

Bloodthirsty. Ruthless. Her council of snakes would approve. Her Escorts did not.

But neither did they stop her.

After a few moments of silence, Jerome reported, "The guards have been doubled for all vital areas of the palace." To protect against renewed incursions after stealing back Castien.

Vern reluctantly followed the captain’s lead. "Winter solstice would be a good time to invite all the nobles, make them come out of their holes, give them something else to whisper about."

Laureline nodded. "And remind them of our nation's wealth and might. The chamberlain will have a fit, but it'll be worth it."

"Any issue with the treasury?" Anais asked. Lyrroth’s child had been recovered—butnot by the crown. Lord Magdus had somehow found the girl. The Queen had decided not to insist on taking the child into her safekeeping. Yet.

Vern shook his head. "No, but you know how she scowls when I tell her to allocate funds for necessities. Any extravagance gives her apoplexy."

Anais didn't smile, but she appreciated the mundane discussion. Castien's return was not a necessary topic. Octavius would refuse her assistance and even her presence as no more than a distraction.

The meeting continued, discussing potential security issues with the influx of unvetted nobles and their retinues, and the upcoming gathering's events. But the underlying message was their support for her.

Vern stayed behind after the others left. When the door closed, he moved to sit close to her, offering his hand. She took it, the last piece of her mask shattering.

"At least he's back," he murmured.

Anais' hand clenched. "Did you not see him? His body may be here, but his mind is gone. I don’t know if he can be saved."

"He’s alive and aware. We will heal him, mind and body. Have faith."

She shot to her feet, started pacing.

"I have anger and hate and fear. Faith? Not yet, Vern. You can’t know the healers will succeed—that they won’t simply put his body together but leave his mind in chaos, or even if they bring him back, that he won’t be irrevocably scarred and never again know joy."

"We've healed them all, every single tortured soul. We'll heal him too."

Against his steadfast patience and confidence, she threw the fear that was gnawing at her.

"Yes, we’ve healed them all. Priscilla can't bear to be alone with a man or in the dark. Nerom jumps at every loud sound. Liara can hardly leave the library. Even those who are fine most days still fall to weeping on occasion, or suddenly can't breathe, or—"

His firm tone interrupted her rapid words. "But they're alive and living their life. They're grateful to you. There might be pieces missing, and maybe those pieces will never be found, but that's not something you should dwell on right now. Castien is here, he will be healed, then we'll see. One step at a time, Anais."

He was always her impenetrable wall of calm, as he had been to her mother. The court thought him incapable of feeling. An unfeeling man wouldn’t be able to pull her back from spiraling chaos. She sighed and sat back down, taking his hand.

"You're right, father. I suppose I should distract myself, prepare for the solstice perhaps."

He rubbed the back of her hand. "Are you going to dance?"

No. The ferocity of that immediate response startled her. She always danced at the larger gatherings, both in a display such as the Panther's Hunt and with potential Consorts or lovers in the court. She replied in a calmer manner.

"I don't know. I don't want to."

"Just dance with Darius. Or a Swords' Dance with Jerome. Haven't done that in a while, it would be fitting."

She smiled faintly. "Hehatesthat thing. Everyone always fawns over him after. Did you see him nearly skewer someone the last time?" Jerome performed well—too well. Most of his irritation came after the dance, when the nobles set upon him like flies to honey. They didn't notice the quiet guardian by her side, not until the dance showed off his efficientcontrol and dangerous skills.

"Ask him. He won't mind being a distraction," Vern said.

He would mind, but he'd do anything for her. Guilt warred with her raw nerves. She'd decide later.

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