She lifted a wine cup. He tracked the way her throat moved, the dark red staining her lips before her tongue swiped up the droplets. Oh, there was a twinge of concern, but he was hardly going to insist she stop drinking wine, particularly not when he wanted to lick the corners of her reddened lips. He could practically feel the curve of her sweet mouth as she smiled – then the warmth of her breath as she–
“What do you think I should do then? About Darius.”
“Hmm.” He pretended to consider while he admired the sheer black fabric draped over her shoulders. Encircling the neck of her velvet dress were fresh rose petals. Sparkling gold branched downward in the shape of a fanciful dragon, its long body twining around the stem of the rose. “He would look splendid in one of Laureline’s hats. Can a bird be trained to sit on it?”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “Oh, yes, he'd probably make big, feathery hats the new fashion in court.” Amusementturned to horror. “Actually, no, I can't do that. Then I'd have to wear one. Oh.”
Darius had been threatening to make an actual bird's nest out of the things one day. An innocent creature had taken residence, and he'd cost Laureline a precious hat. Sounded like Darius. He let out a laugh.
Anais' smile made it to her lips. “Oh, you think that's funny? I'd make you wear one, too. Black feathers, I think. You'd look dashing.”
The image tugged another chuckle out of him. He raised a brow and his chin. “I absolutely would. You haven't seen me in a hat. The ladies adore me.”
Her head tilted. A sharp glint entered her amused eyes. Casually, she asked, “Is that so? Which particular ladies come to mind?”
He could satiate himself on her jealousy alone. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, let’s see. There are too many to remember all at once, I'm afraid. Maybe I could write down their names for you?”
“You are shameless,” she purred.
“Utterly.”
She was beautiful like this – happy, relaxed, chatting about nonsense. Of course, she was always beautiful, but the cold Queen of court had an untouchable beauty, and the beauty of the Inner Circle’s vengeful Queen was devastatingly dangerous.
Rarely was Anais wholly herself. If he could capture and bottle the warmth of her heart, he'd never feel the cold again.
She glanced away, her smile faltering. Reality was unkind. Before he could ask what was on her mind, she spoke in a voice almost too soft to be heard:
“Shadowed knight. Blind knife.”
No.
Blood drained from his face. What was she doing?
Metal clanked in his ears. Not again. Not now! No!
His lips curled into a snarl. Spiderwebs of bright pain spread in his vision. The room receded. Unbreakable lengths of chain wrapped his mind. He strained against the shackles, but his body grew distant. He couldn't move. Couldn't even blink. He screamed without a sound, without opening his mouth, without air leaving his lungs.
Just before his senses shut down, Anais’ voice reached him again:
“Cut through the walls; let the darkness fall.”
As though turned to mist, the chains vanished. His mind slammed back into his body. The light was too bright, the air in his lungs icy cold. He blinked and gripped the edge of the table.
“What… did you…?”
For a moment, nothing else happened.
Then his mind cracked.
Pain erupted. Moons of agony seemed to condense into one moment, worse than any of his sessions with Octavius. Lightning lanced through his ears, behind his eyes, crawled down his neck. He clutched his head and squeezed his eyes shut.
Now when he screamed, the sound filled the room.
“Castien? Castien, answer me. Damn it, Octavius, you said this would– You told me he was ready! Castien, say something!”
She sounded panicked. Afraid. Angry. She was angry when she was afraid. Groaning and centering himself on her scent, he slowly pried open his eyes.
Octavius was on one knee before him, gripping his wrist and taking his pulse. Anais stood slightly behind the healer. The guards were a step behind her.
