Page 111 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Owain would never be so uncaring. I could be angry with him while accepting that much as truth. The thought felt like a seed finally given the chance to root itself deep inside me. The brothers shared blood, but they didn’t share a soul.

“There,” I said quietly, withdrawing my hands at last. “You’ll need rest, Your Majesty.”

“Stay,” Berian murmured—to Reina, not to me. The word was slurred. He was fading fast. Thank the gods. I wished I could put him to sleep like druidic mages could to save us both from having to hear him coming onto her again.

Reina sprang up from the bed, her movements lacking the former grace. “I must get our guest to her room and let you sleep. We will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty.”

“Do,” he said, voice firm and commanding, making it clear it was an order. But I had serious doubts that Reina would actually heed it.

Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Come after my treatments…”

His eyes landed on me once more, as though my presence was a sudden revelation. There was too much interest there.

Reina deliberately stepped between us, eyebrows shooting up. “What treatments, Berian?”

“Thibault, the… contamination…” he whispered, his words trailing off as he drifted away.

My eyes met Reina’s, and we both had the same unspoken question. Contamination?

I couldn’t fight illness or infection with my magic, only help stabilize the body against it. Contamination conjured images of rot and poison, of a pervasive and untamed force. But the scars I felt beneath my hands were shaped with almost artful precision—too much precision to be attributed solely to something mundane. Someone had been very deliberate in harming him. And whoever had done it knew exactly what they were doing.

Reina shuffled us out of the room and back into the hallway before I could dwell on it. I inhaled deeply, savoring the pure air of the corridor.

Twenty paces later, Reina was ordering the two guards now stationed on either side of my door to open it.

“Can we talk for a moment?” I asked, pausing at the threshold.

She nodded, and I led her in, only to be surprised by not one, but seven bouquets covering every available surface. How had someone gotten so many summer flowers when winter was so soon?

There was a scroll tied with a pink silk ribbon to the one near the hearth. I walked over to it, heart thumping, and untied the silk.

Her brow furrowed with worry and jaw tight with something close to repressed anger, Reina followed sedately.

“Before you ask, yes, I can read,” I said, cutting off Reina’s unspoken question. “I may hail from a village content with its ignorance, but I’m not like them.” I immediately felt bad for snapping. This wasn’t Reina’s fault.

At the sound of my voice, Muffin poked his head in from the porch. His long body bounded from one perch to another until he could make it to the floor safely. Instead of running to climb up my legs like he always did, he stopped in front of Reina to beg for attention. She dutifully scooped him up and cradled him like a newborn—a surprising departure from her ordinarily hard-edged disposition.

I felt a peculiar mix of relief, sadness, and a touch of disgust settle within me as my eyes scanned the page. “These are from Lord Coryanthus.”

“Gods be-fucking-low,” Reina muttered, exhaling a sigh that almost sounded relieved. “He certainly moved fast.”

Coryanthus’s message had been expensive, but it had landed with less effect than he probably hoped. “He wants to have dinner with me,” I said, trying to keep the shock from my voice.

“Oh, he wants more than that.” Reina’s smile had teeth. “He wouldn’t have sent flowers if he wanted a mistress.”

“More?” I squeaked, still peering at the scroll as if reading it a second time might reveal answers the first didn’t.

“He would’ve sent something far more expensive to seal the deal quickly if all he wanted was a tumble.” Reina sniffed and pulled out the same seat she’d used this morning at breakfast. She sat down carefully, still cradling Muffin in one arm, dismissively flicking her wrist as if to brush away the entire incident with the other. “Coryanthus wants a wife. A grand magus like yourself would suit his family’s quest for a powerful bloodline. Go if it suits you.”

She tried to sound casual about it, but the undertone of her voice was anything but.

I thought back to how worried I’d been that Owain’s court would reject me. Now, one of them was sending me flowers. And Reina thought he was considering me as a marriage match? This turn of affairs left me speechless.

It would likely change the moment I took off the scarf.

I didn’t even have to think about my answer. “Joining him for dinner does not suit.”

“Be warned. He’s like an excellent hunting dog. Dumb as rocks, but highly reliable in his persistence. You may have to work to convince him of your rejection. He’s not the worst of the lot, but he’s still very dangerous.”