His eyes were glazed when he opened them. “Well, we can still look, can't we? Might as well try to enjoy the next few days.”
“As long as you promise not to worry about me.”
He laughed. “Of course, I'm not worried. I know you love me. I'm prettier than all of them, and I dance far better.”
But his smile was too wide, his laugh a bit too forced.
She pulled him close for a kiss. If she had time, she'd give him more. Soon. And once the Consort Ceremony was complete, he would see she was right. He didn't need to worry.
Reluctantly separating from the faint taste of wine and grapes, she put a step between them. “About Aurora. I'm sorry, but I need you to do this for me. I don't believe for a moment that she’s interested in a courtesan. There's another reason she asked for you.”
At the mention of Aurora, he frowned. “And if she does want me? I’ll do as she asks, but only if you’re alright with that.”
She wasn’t. “She won’t.”
He angled his head to the side. “Were you and she ever…?”
That brought a smile to her lips. “No. But this is just not like her. If she does want… more. ” She scowled. “Then I suppose we’ll have learned something new.” The Aurora she knew would never have touched another woman’s partner.
Anais squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, truly. If you aren’t completely comfortable–”
He squeezed back. “You have no need to apologize. I am an Escort, though I feel like your pet in actuality sometimes. I want to help.”
A twinge of guilt tightened her stomach. She had intended to ask Darius or Laureline to teach him about the court. They always needed more spies, and a courtesan ought to make a good one. But it wasn't urgent, and she had kept pushing it off.
Now she was sending him untrained.
Her claws stroked his palm. “You're not my pet, love. Be careful. Keep your ears open, and don't ask too many questions. One more thing – there's a possibility we haven’t had much luck exploring for my mother's murderer. An assassin from the other nations.”
He raised a brow. “An assassin? You think the Commander is an assassin?”
“Not Aurora, and not any Shoni’i. I wouldn’t send you anywhere dangerous. Just keep your eyes and ears open.”
Chapter 5
Castien
Two rose guards flanked him. Jerome would need to train more at this rate. The Queen complained that Jerome never let her go anywhere without an army. Well, Castien was growing his own army.
He supposed it was fitting, given the Consort title. Even if he was the only one who acknowledged that he wasn’t the Consort yet.
Escort was a curious rank. An untouchable servant. Above the nobles, yet unable to command them. Without another title, he was no more than the Queen's pet.
He realized belatedly that he wasn't certain where he stood with a foreign dignitary.
They expected a House courtesan. That, he understood.
Within the eastern hall of the ambassadors’ wing, a Shoni’i soldier led him to a bedchamber. The hall was sparsely decorated, and the chamber appeared much the same. If the furnishings were made out of wood rather than granite, the Shoni’i chambers would have resembled the Queen’s Wing.
Beside a window looking out at the trees sat the Commander, the lady adorned in the same outfit she had worn in the Great Hall: formal armor.
Perhaps the Shoni’i had a different idea of what a courtesan’s services were.
The door shut behind him. His guards remained just outside, a shout away.
Castien performed a cultivated bow, his elegant fingers spreading as he had been taught, the angle of his bent waist polite for a noble of equal rank. When he straightened, a professional smile decorated his lips, all charm and heat, and not an ounce of heart. “At your service, my lady.”
The Commander uttered a single, impassive word.
