Anything that happened to that child, Anais may as well have done herself.
“Nothing. The child is fine.”
Relief untangled one small knot.
Castien murmured softly, “Perhaps if I were a better man, I would walk away.”
His fingers curled beneath her claws and removed her hand from his bracer. He squeezed and sharply drew his hand down, cutting his palm on her claws. “I will keep your promises for you,” he vowed. “Any promise you break from now on, I will suffer for it.”
His eyes finally lifted, the warning in them more welcome than a simple smile of reassurance. If he was making promises, then he intended to stay.
“Castien…”
The caution in his eyes shifted to an assured calm that had been absent for too long. “I’ve failed you, too. I owe you the truth. If you are a monster, then you are the monster who protects me from the world. As long as you live, the happiness I want is with you. I would rather be broken again and again than live without you. I know you will be there to catch me. If you will allow me to stay–”
She whispered, “I would beg you.”
A smile touched his full, lovely lips. “Then I will gladly kneel at your feet. I'd be a fool to walk away. I'm the one who should be sorry, Anais. I should have known better, should have trusted you. You and Octavius.”
The healer stood over the small chair, examining one of the green-eyed women. He didn’t react, but he must have heard.
Rising to her feet, Anais drew Castien up with her. “You will never kneel. You will stand by my side, and we will walk together. I will make the world bow for you.”
Around them, the soldiers led the guards out the door. Vern snapped a command to take them to the dungeons. Half the Escorts had already left.
She needed to call a council and rein in the court. The palace needed to be locked down until she had a feel for the nobles’ loyalties. Satryani’s title and estates fell to her granddaughter, a child too young to hold so much power. She would need a regent, and the regent’s loyalties would need to be assessed.
But the man before her deserved a few more moments of her time.
Castien brought the back of her less bloody hand to his soft lips. “I only want you. You are my world, Anais, and I don’t want you to kneel.” His eyes gleamed. “I much prefer bending, begging, moaning…”
Especially if he kept saying things like that.
Chapter 47
Castien
He was free.
When he drank the bitter liquid, and it did nothing, when he didn’t hear the rattling chains and screams, he finally believed he was free. The trance had no hold over him, and never would again.
“Lift your arms, please,” the seamstress said in a clipped tone.
He quickly obeyed. Teasing the seamstress earned pricks from her numerous sharp pins, he'd learned last year. He liked to think he didn't need to suffer the same lesson twice.
Which made it all the more embarrassing how long it had taken to trust Anais.
He thought he had trusted her completely. It was himself he was afraid of. But he had failed to trust her to protect herself, to judge the danger of his presence for herself.
The dark Queen was perfectly capable of ensuring her own safety – as were her Escorts, her Inner Court, and her literal army.
“Please don't move your head, Escort.”
The note of irritation in the seamstress’ voice was something to be worried about. “My apologies, my lady. I was marveling at the remarkable design of the suit you're preparing for me. I've never seen its like.”
“Flatterer,” she mumbled around a pin.
But she didn't prick him. That was a good sign.
