Shortly afterward, the Escort left, and he was led back to his cell. There, he put on the dry clothes. The guards placed his Escorts’ livery on the bench. On top of the silks was the box containing his bracers. He held out his wrists for the chains.
Both guards exited his cell. But they didn’t close the door. He frowned.
A low growl reverberated down the hall. The guards stepped back.
Padding silently beyond the bars was a sleek and powerfully built grey wolf. Ash. She eyed the two rose guards on her way into the cell. Castien stood still, his arms by his sides. Her nose bumped his shackle, and she let out a soft whine.
He closed his eyes as the door clanged shut. His fingers found the fur at the top of her head. At her next whimper, he dropped to his knees. The wolf was warm.
“Ash,” he murmured into the beast’s neck. “I don't want to die. I don't think I should leave. What do I do?”
Chapter 35
Anais
Three weeks from the border to the palace was fast as far as military maneuvers went. She promised them soft beds and hot meals from the kitchens. Morale was already good from beating back Nadrakens sent to catch her. They marched counting coins, comparing kills, and exaggerating the tale of their Queen’s daring infiltration.
About a third of the forces remained behind, more than sufficient unless Yelena decided to commit to an assault. Considering the Southern nation’s chaotic countryside, it was unlikely.
Halfway home, the army spent a night at Fort Brighton. Nobles loyal to the Queen were placed at strategic castles and forts like this one. Somehow, a Gamuth had taken the fort. According to the simpering lord, the land had been bestowed upon him at the former noble’s unfortunate death due to his loyalty to the crown.
Loyalty to Satryani, more like.
Fort Brighton was located at a highly defensible hilltop and had access to an underground lake. Their stores of food could last a year under siege. A few hundred could hold against thousands, and the Lord Arek Gamuth proudly boasted two hundred troops.
If she could trust her great-aunt with anything, it was her hatred of Nadraken. Satryani would never betray Drantar to thesouth. Nonetheless, a Gamuth in control of a key fort could not be permitted. Should Satryani carry through her threat of civil war, she now held forts in both the north and the south. The chaos she could cause would make Nadraken’s feuding nobles look like farmers’ squabbles.
Anais invited the lord to court – with an army backing the invitation. He graciously accepted.
The royal colors fluttering from the top of the palace could be seen for miles. At the entrance to the city, red and yellow flags swayed in the breeze, decorating the buildings along the main road. Flowers brightened the cobblestones. Throngs of people lined the streets, held back by guards and soldiers.
The Queen rode at the head of a small contingent, the army a long tail behind her. She timed her appearance for midday. During her travels, she’d requisitioned a gown that fit neatly beneath plate armor. A rosy hue flowed up from her boots, darkening to a blood red at her hips. The belt and sword were utilitarian – worn and dented like any weapon that had seen use. Skintight black gossamer climbed her sides and down her arms, finished with a trim of gold around her wrists.
Her procession advanced steadily through the cheering crowd. They must have been paid. Duchess Satryani was putting on a show.
And what a grand show. At the merchant’s district, beautiful courtesans of the Night Court performed a coordinated bow that swept up the street, the motions of their garments like a flower endlessly unfurling. The Queen’s eyes lingered on the Master of the House of Shadows. She gave him a small nod. Bakers and spice merchants, blacksmiths and leatherworkers, all kinds of traders offered gifts to burden her soldiers. She hadn’t seen such a display since her grandmother won the last war. Certainly, no expense was spared from the crown’s coffers.
In front of the nobles’ estates, ladies and lords were arrayed with their households behind them, each set of prettily-arranged courtiers bowing as she passed. They merited little attention.
At the gates waited the duchess and every last one of the councilors. Lady Satryani stood in front, her hands clasped over an elegant, billowing, royal red dress.
The color didn't suit her.
Behind the councilors were the Escorts. Darius gave her a cheeky wink, loosening a knot in her chest. To his left was Vern. Her father's face betrayed nothing, as usual, but if he was here, then so was Castien. The knot pulled taut when she didn't find that arrogant smile, dark eyes, and artfully tousled hair. She hadn't expected to, of course. Hope was a cruel thing.
The Queen rode to a short distance from the gates. Lifting her arm halted the soldiers. She swung off her horse in a flurry of velvet red, her boots landing on fresh rose petals. Her eyes flared up.
Between Satryani’s insulting dress and the roses, this excessive display had the undertones of defiance. The only counter to her suspicion was her Escorts' calm. If they gave her the smallest hint of a warning, blood – not roses – would color the cobblestones.
Her hand settled naturally on her sword as she strode to the duchess. Horses pawed the ground. The noise of the crowd was distant. The councilors and Escorts bent at their waists, but there was only the Queen and the duchess.
Cool indifference posed as respect on Lady Satryani's flat expression. Her voice was loud and clear. “We welcome our glorious Queen home and are glad to see her highness in excellent health. We hope your travels were fruitful. Long may you reign, my Queen.”
Bowing lower than the rest, Duchess Satryani lifted both hands and presented the gold and emerald bracelet. The gesture must have cost her.
Anais slid her claws beneath the lady’s elbow to raise her to her full height. False warmth honeyed her tone. “My loyal duchess, my dear aunt, you have my gratitude for watching over the land in my absence. A more diligent steward, I could not have asked for.”
The Queen extended her arm. Satryani glared for a moment, then slid the bracelet onto Anais' wrist. The lady bowed again. Behind her, the others finally straightened.
