Page 114 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“Anne, my lady.” Her sharp pivot and immediate return to her task signaled that she wasn’t interested in idle conversation.

I crossed the room and lifted the folded note Owain had left. A seal with a lion’s face, identical to the one on his armor, had been pressed into the dark green wax.

I broke it. Just like the last letter, his handwriting was firm, slanted, and in some parts impatient, as if the ideas were moving faster than the quill could write.

Lunette,

I will be in the lower yard at first light, leading drills. The men must see me steady on my feet and sound in my lungs. Rumor festers faster than rot, and I will not have them wondering whether the Tir rests on two broken men. Camrick insists I spar to prove my stamina.

You are welcome anywhere in the keep, but I think it wise I keep my distance—though I will have to see you at meals.

My actions have already caused you more than enough pain.

I do not know whether I should apologize again or refrain from doing so entirely.

Know this, at least: bringing you here was never about defying your wishes. The decision was about making one mistake to prevent an irrevocable one. Though I would be lying if I didn’t admit that just seeing you fills me with a joy that surpasses any I’ve ever known.

They say a wound stops aching once it goes numb, but I am entirely raw. Thoughts of you now fill every empty space in my mind. It is a strange mercy to be haunted by a peace I do not deserve. You have turned a ruined house into a sanctuary of light.

I still miss you, moonlight.

— Owain

I read the last sentence twice. The words felt different this time. Unlike Coryanthus’s, the thought of tossing this letter into the fire never crossed my mind.

Muffin emerged from under the bed, stretching, nose twitching toward the food.

I folded the note carefully and set it beside the untouched paper stack. Anne had already begun laying out garments from the wardrobe—silks and soft wool in shades of a snowy winter sky.

“I can dress myself,” I said between bites of pastry.

“Yes, my lady,” Anne replied, without ceasing her work. The words said one thing, the tone another.

She wasn’t large, but she moved with the unshakeable momentum of a battering ram. If I resisted, this woman would probably outlast me on obstinacy alone.

Reina warned me.

I hadn’t listened carefully enough.

I surrendered the battle with as much dignity as I could manage and allowed her to finish lacing my bodice. It appeared I had gained a new, eager companion for verbal jousting because a secret grin spread on her face every time one of us scored a point.

“No guard,” I added, tying the belt at my waist more firmly than necessary. “The king’s chamber is only down the hall.”

Anne’s expression didn’t change. “As you wish. Now, the scarf.”

Owain’s warning pressed faintly at the edge of my thoughts as I walked down the corridor, but I dismissed it. It would be fine.

Four men flanked the king’s door as before. They straightened when they saw me.

“You’re expected, Lady Lunette,” one said, opening the door without delay. That same overpowering scent of sickness and herbs wafted out on the too-warm air.

A man clad in flowing white robes was already at the king’s bedside, hunched over the slumbering monarch. In his hands, he held a slender black instrument with an inlaid silver lattice pattern. It produced a constant, low hum that vibrated unpleasantly.

The “contamination removal” in action.

My stomach clenched. The healer didn’t look up or stop what he was doing at my entrance. Nor did King Berian stir or make a single sound.

“I wondered when I would get a chance to meet you,” the stranger said quietly. “I’ve been waiting to meet the one they call a grand magus amongst grand magi.”