Page 113 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“What are you doing, Owain? I can see my breath, and you’re out here half naked.” I tried to keep my voice low so as not to wake the visiting lords and ladies staying in guest rooms across the garden.

He shifted on his feet and looked down as if just noticing the state he was in. He hastily adjusted his trousers, fumbling with the tie with a maddening lack of speed. His reply was slow in coming and sounded more like a question than an answer. “Sending you a letter.”

“You could’ve had a servant bring it to me. You didn’t have to break into my room.”

“Point of correction.” He lifted one finger, a barely suppressed grin dancing on his lips. “I did not break into your room.”

“Your magic did.” I growled under my breath and clenched my fists. “That counts!”

Owain’s expression lost its humor at once. "You're right. I apologize, Lunette. You’re furious.”

“I’m freezing,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “And furious. You trespassed.”

Did he really, Luna? Or are you just frustrated by how much you still want him after he hurt you?

I didn’t have enough practice at this. Didn’t know how to handle everything I felt for him warring inside me. Some of the heat had gone out of my anger because he’d listened. And he truly seemed to care, but I was still conflicted—and trying desperately not to ogle him.

Seeing what I was so obviously trying to hide, his expression lightened, shedding its gloom for a keen sense of awareness. “If I meant to trespass,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t still be standing all the way over here.”

The silence stretched for three heartbeats too long while I stared at the sleeping garden below because his shirt was still open.

“You are very determined not to look at me,” he observed. He moved to stand with his hands on his hips, making his shirt open even wider. “I find that…encouraging.”

His gaze flicked pointedly to my clenched hands.

Oh, absolutely not.

“The only tunic these hands will be beneath today is your brother’s,” I shot back.

Technically true, but damn. I should not have said that.

The hint of a smile on his face quickly vanished, replaced by a deep scowl.

A sudden gust of wind tossed my hair wildly, stinging my eyes as it swept across my face. He watched me with an intensity that suggested he was about to jump across the gap between us.

“You should go back inside,” he said finally.

“You first.” Not my wittiest comeback—how could it be with him standing there looking like that?

“Can’t.” He shook his head then lowered his voice to a deep basso that lit up every nerve in my body. “If I move before there’s a door between us, I’ll only succeed at convincing you of one thing—and I won’t be able to do it slowly.”

My temper still simmering, I demanded, “And what is that?”

His expression was like the embers after a blaze, devoid of light and yet still hot enough to burn. “That I still want to run my hands through those curls. And I would stop caring who heard us.”

Well, that thawed the ice that had started to invade my lungs. I swallowed, memories of the dream begging me to invite him over. “Then…stay where you are.”

His midnight eyes, dark and unreadable, stared back as he nodded. I’d never seen him look so dangerous, like a man deciding whether to break every rule he’d sworn to uphold. Those eyes didn’t stray from me as I turned and rushed back inside, heart beating erratically.

I walked straight from one flustering encounter to another, simpler sort.

One of the servants Reina had brought in that first afternoon was already expertly tucking in the corners of my bed. I wasn’t used to people doing things for me, much less entering my private domain. On the table sat a teacup, waiting beside a plate of pastries and jam. Across from that, a silver tray held an inkwell with two untouched quills that stood guard over a generous pile of paper.

In Selmont, a single used sheet cost more than a week’s worth of eggs. The stack on that tray—thick, creamy, unmarred—was worth more than a healer’s yearly wages. More than anything that had ever been left at my door…and they’d sent it without asking for anything more from me.

“My lady requested that you be provided with ample materials,” the servant said crisply.

“I’m Lunette, and you are?” I asked.