When Satryani rose from her bow, she took a small step forward and spoke so quietly, Anais almost missed the words.
“I want Count Vern’s head. If you wish to keep your secret, you will give me his head.”
The Queen leaned in and opened her arms to hug her great-aunt. “My Escorts will never be part of any bargain. Take your granddaughter and be satisfied.”
Their embrace was stiff and brief. When they parted, the Queen beckoned over her shoulder. Her captain joined her as she strode past Lady Satryani. She granted the councilors a nod as she swept up her Escorts.
Her first destination was the Queen's Wing. Immediately after the double doors closed, she stripped off her armor.
Darius spoke first as he helped her unbuckle. “I've never seen dear Satry so riled. Did she threaten you? I noticed that whisper.”
She gave him a stern but brief look. Her attention shifted to Madeline, who only had eyes for Jerome. Her handmaiden was so tense, she might shatter if touched by a breeze. A small gasp issued from her lips when she saw his bandaged hand.
“Captain,” Anais said, “Take yourself to the healers’ hall. Please accompany him, Madeline.”
The girl rushed to his side. His good hand curved naturally around her waist, and there was an intensity in his eyes that Anais had never seen before. In turn, Madeline hovered around the man’s broken hand like a bird with a chick fallen out of its nest. The captain had better appreciate the fussing; Maddy was the most meddlesome mother hen of them all.
As they turned toward the doors, Madeline murmured, “Wait.” She tossed a sharp glance at Vern. “Castien is in the dungeons. You can askhimwhy.” She drew a stiff Jerome out of the wing.
Why, indeed. Vern was silent as the general gave her report. Trishve highlighted the need to address the rebels’ discontent. The Queen nodded and dismissed her. Laureline was due to return in a few days. Octavius and Vern both remained strangely quiet.
There was a hidden entrance; perhaps the Queen's Wing was less accessible at the time. But he should have been moved by now.
Octavius' expression was grim.
If Satryani had hurt him…
Speculation was pointless. It didn't matter ‘why’. She needed to see him. She smoothed her dress. It was acceptable for court. As were the weapons.
Rather than have a discussion concerning Castien’s whereabouts, she dismissed her Escorts and swiftly departed the wing. The footsteps of guards echoed behind her.
Servants scattered out of her way. Nobles lowered their heads in greeting. Only when she was forced to wait for the door to the dungeons to be unlocked did she pause.
The palace only had one level of cells. A long hall stretched out before her, segmented by a wall and another door she impatiently waited for the warden to unlock. Castien was being held in the third segment for political prisoners. Herewere relatively spacious and clean cells – at least he was as comfortable as possible.
After the final door opened, she plucked the keys from the warden's hand and bid the terrified woman return to her post. Thumbing through the keys, Anais walked slower, willing her heart to calm, as well. Octavius' grim features came to mind. If the healer could not undo what the bitch of Nadraken had done, she might need to make a decision.
She cast aside the irrational fear. Right now, she just needed to get Castien out of the cell. One problem at a time. One day at a time.
Two guards stood at attention against the wall. Jerome's men, Alex and Kane. She signaled her own guards to wait out of view. Too many people might overwhelm him.
A pile of fur sat outside the bars. No – it was Ash. The wolf’s tail thumped the ground as Anais approached. A gentle whine filled the hall. Ash was unexpected. A friendly companion for a prisoner? Octavius' idea, no doubt.
She absently petted the wolf’s head as the bars revealed Castien.
He sat on a bench against the wall, leaning forward. Muscles flexed along his arms as he gripped the edge of the seat. His eyes found hers instantly, roaming wildly over her face. His lips were just slightly parted. She couldn't wait to feel their soft touch. A smile began to form on her lips.
Then his chains rattled.
Chains.
Shackles bound his wrists, metal links leading to the wall. The skin around his wrists was slightly red.
Her head whipped to the guards. “You put him inchains?!”
There was a dagger in her hand. A part of her mind assessed the weapon and deemed it appropriate. Both guards blinked, butotherwise remained still. She reminded herself that they were loyal. The person who issued the orders was at fault here.
Nonetheless, her voice turned cold. “Wait outside with the others.”
