Aurora’s assessment hadn't resulted in disgust. She had said she was determining the truth. Why did she need to know?
Anais’ entire body went still. “I'm going to kill her.”
He laughed softly. “It's fine. I don't care what she thinks or why she wanted to see them. She mentioned your hawk, though. How well does she know you?”
Anais glanced at the door. After the ambassadors’ arrival, she was scheduled to meet with Jerrl and the army. Maybe she would cancel it and stay with him, instead. They could have that wine, she could have a massage, and he could have her.
She slipped out of his arms. “Aurora might have been a friend once, but she's right. It's been ten years. We don't know each other at all anymore.”
He caught her hand. “Tell me about her.”
Anything to make her stay.
“Some other time. I need to go, love. And you should be training.”
She tugged her arm, but he didn't let go. “Have dinner with me tonight, just us. You can tell me then.”
Her expression was torn between desire and duty. “I can’t promise anything. I'll try.”
Then she was gone.
He slid a hand into his pocket, his fingers curling loosely. He supposed he should change into fighting leathers for training.
Chapter 6
Anais
With Madeline’s help, it was a matter of minutes to peel off her dress and strap on her formal leathers. She fondly tucked the dagger from her thigh into a belt, along with an array of knives and her thin sword. Gold thread and jeweled studs were the compromise to her lack of a crown. The armor was showy but functional.
Castien had performed for his clients, but he'd never performed like she did – every day, every word, every breath calculated. She never wanted him to learn to guard his thoughts, but protecting him from the court was stifling him. He couldn't remain in the Queen's Wing like the pampered pet they thought he was.
Especially not after he became her Consort.
The practical side of her – the voice of her mother and the Queen – disapproved. Wed a common whore? She may as well wed a farmer. He was useless.
But her mother never married. And her noble council could burn on the coals.
Castien was soft, yes. Kind and gentle. Vulnerable. He needed her protection. All weaknesses to a Queen, and yet that darkness in her wanted to dig her claws in and never let go. He washers.
Also, what in all the hells was wrong with marrying a farmer? At least they understood hard work.
The military wing echoed with shouts of fighters and the clang of steel. She tilted her head. Some of those voices didn't sound quite right.
“…Bending your knee to a pretty face, is that it, Jerrl? Maybe if you kiss her feet nicely, she'll hand you a title, too.”
Jerrl’s gruff voice snapped, “You're drunk, Carden. That's enough. Shut up and walk it off.”
“Or what? You'll have her string me up on the coals? I won't do it. None of us will burn for the mad Queen. Didn't you see how much she enjoyed watching Damon roast? When she sliced him up, I thought she was going to…”
The Queen walked through the doors.
Dozens of soldiers formed a circle around two men – Jerrl and one of his captains. They had swords in their hands as though they had been sparring, but they stood apart, gesturing with the weapons instead of fighting.
As usual, half the soldiers were from one of the palace’s regiments. She didn't like how they stood separate from the rebels.
The crowd parted for her. The man facing Jerrl paled but lifted his chin. Not a coward. That was good.
All eyes turned to her. Tension rippled through the room.
