Page 112 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Muffin finally scrambled out of her arms to sniff at the flowers. To comfort myself, I ran my hand down his soft fur, soaking in the familiar warmth. “I wanted to tell you I’d like to be present for the treatment King Berian mentioned.”

“Prudent,” Reina replied thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, I have some things to take care of for the Tir in the morning. Camrick too. Would you be comfortable attending with Richart as your guard and guide?”

A humorless breath left me. “Don’t trouble him. I can walk down the hallway without getting lost.”

Was it telling that she never suggested Owain?

“Then I’ll have breakfast, writing materials for you to reject the hound, and a servant you will not refuse sent up in the morning.” Reina stood, brushing clumps of Muffin’s fur off her lavish dress. “You did very well in there tonight. I’m proud.”

As the door shut behind her and the guards resumed their post outside, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had gained the type of value a smart woman knows is a trap.

I was used to being alone, but when she left, the room felt larger and louder in its emptiness. Seven bouquets perfumed the air too sweetly. Owain had dragged me here. Berian looked at me as if I were a particularly interesting bug who’d brought him Reina. And Coryanthus wanted to marry me for my bloodline. At least in Selmont, they’d only wanted two things from me.

It was all too much.

I began to untangle the heavy chains from my hair, pulling them free strand by strand. They weren’t painted steel either. Real gold. That made me irrationally angry. I set them beside Coryanthus’s scroll, but that gave me an idea of where to vent my frustration.

Ten steps later, I was tossing his letter into the fire. The parchment instantly caught, releasing more perfume as it turned to ash.

I lay down without undressing, listening to the guards shift beyond my door.

Tomorrow, I would face the king without Reina there as a buffer. Something about that made me uneasy. But if someone was harming Owain’s brother under the guise of saving him, I intended to see it.

Chapter 32

Lunette

I dreamed of Owain again. The dream showed him just like he was last night after the banquet, but this time Reina didn’t interrupt us in the hallway. He’d backed me toward my room slowly, giving me every opportunity to stop him. My body swayed toward him instead, breath already unsteady before he’d touched anything but my face. His thumb traced the line of my jaw like he was memorizing it, like he had time, like he intended to use every bit of it to squeeze as much pleasure out of the evening as possible.

Then all that was between us was clothing and firelight. His breath became unsteady as shadows curled around my ankles. They drifted upward in slow, unhurried inches, a question more than a demand. I pulled him impossibly closer, and my skirts lifted at the hem, fabric whispering against my skin.

Desire blazed inside me so brightly that the denial of flesh-on-flesh felt like agony. He called me Luna again—whispered it against my neck as his fingers trailed fire down my sides, pressed his straining cock into my belly. I answered by pulling him close, needing him inside me like I needed my next breath.

In the dream, I reached for him.

But I woke up before my fingers found anything but air. My eyes snapped open as the sharp sound of wood swinging on a chain cut through the pre-dawn stillness. I jolted up, my heart hammering against my ribs as my head spun. The sudden movement dislodged the furs and startled Muffin from his peaceful slumber against my neck.

I rapidly scanned my still-unfamiliar surroundings, trying to pinpoint the origin of the disturbance. I looked up as a shadow streamed through the opening cut into the door that led to the porch. The conjuration had the shape of a hand, delicately pinching a folded piece of paper.

Okay, Owain, that’s a little creepy.

Because Reina wouldn’t sneak a note into my room. She’d walk right in—or have a servant send it.

Muffin was clearly irked by the rude awakening, but he acted as if shadows passing through walls were an everyday occurrence. Instead of reacting to it, he grumpily scurried off the bed and disappeared beneath it to seek more rest.

With meticulous care, the shadow positioned the paper on the breakfast table, leaning it against the candle at the center where it would catch my eye the moment I awoke. The conjuration retreated as silently and smoothly as it had appeared, leaving only the soft morning light to stream through the small opening.

I lay still for three heartbeats, listening. Then, before better judgment could intervene, I jumped out of bed and threw open the porch door, my eyes still heavy and my hair a bird’s nest from sleep.

I needed answers.

I stepped onto the icy stone in nothing but woolen socks, bracing for the wind. But my emotions burned so fiercely that the autumn air felt like nothing more than a faint breeze. My body twisted with sudden awareness, my senses unerringly pinpointing exactly where he’d be standing. I spun around, my gaze locking onto him as if pulled by an invisible string.

Owain clearly hadn’t expected anyone to see him. He stood on the porch beside mine, clad in fighting leathers, the chest ties undone and his trousers hanging around his hips, exposing the sharp V of muscle that disappeared beneath the untied top.

Benevolent gods. Muscles.

I made a sincere effort to be angry about so much skin being on display…and failed completely. Looking at his eyes did the trick. They had the audacity to fix on me as if I were the crazy one.