Page 143 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

A chorus of agreement, hushed and measured, rose from the mages.

Owain, impossibly, tensed further. Seeing his genuine affection for his sister-in-law used to manipulate the conversation made rending magic spark at my fingertips.

I reached beneath the table and squeezed his leg gently—there and gone, small enough to be nothing, large enough to say I’m here. The change in him was immediate. His jaw loosened just a touch, and his shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly.

But before my hand could rest in my own lap again, a tendril of shadow wrapped gently around my wrist, gently nudging my fingers open. I gave in, and Owain’s warm palm slipped in to replace the magic.

I became abruptly, inconveniently aware of every point of contact between us. Despite my ever-present feeling of being a fish out of water, and despite everything we were trying to conceal, being with him felt perfectly right.

With his hand in mine, I could be vulnerable. My fear no longer had to wear a mask of anger to help me survive. I wasn’t doing this completely alone any longer.

“We have the right, as the arbiters of magic—” Vaustin began, but Reina cut him off.

“Self-proclaimed arbiters,” she said brusquely.

The visible effort Vaustin used to keep his eyes from narrowing almost made me laugh. Damn my ridiculous sense of humor.

“Duchess.” That one word was two complete sentences layered on top of one another. At the top was a concession, but below that was the most delicate of brush-offs.

He continued, “As you said, we are here to examine Lady Lunette so that we might determine if she is a risk.”

Owain’s gaze slowly swiveled to him. Vaustin’s throat worked as the pressure of his violent attention finally registered.

I squeezed Owain’s hand hard under the table.

We expected this.

I was still here. He didn’t have to fight.

But he kept staring the hunter down—eyes black as storm clouds—like he was about to turn Vaustin into another bisected bouquet. So I sent a wave of soothing heat through our contact, the same way I might soothe a patient. Only this time, I didn’t pretend it wasn’t personal.

That worked. He finally tore his eyes away from Vaustin. They darted my way, lingered for half a heartbeat, then reluctantly focused on his mostly untouched plate of food.

“You need to observe more than Grand Magus Thibault did?” I asked, dabbing my lips with my napkin to cover my scowl. “I struggle to see what you think could be dangerous about healing magic.”

“But you’re more than just a simple healer, Lady Lunette, correct?” Vaustin asked, sunshine and rainbows in his voice. “I was informed that a different title might be more accurate considering your warding abilities.”

Before I could ask what title, the mage who’d mentioned his cousin’s Fae blood offered, “General Allard has been an extraordinary example of what cooperation with the Assembly can produce.”

Camrick’s impassive expression didn’t falter. But something behind his eyes went very, very still, like a fire in the half-second before the wind changed direction. I didn’t think anyone else at the table caught the change.

“Generous of you to say,” Camrick offered pleasantly.

The mage’s attention slid back to me with something I could only describe as appetite. “We find that those with gifts of such magnitude benefit enormously from proper stewardship.” He let the word settle. “As the general can attest from our seasons spent together in Caervorn.”

Had Camrick been one of their “projects?” The word seasons snagged in my mind. That meant Camrick had been with them long enough that the person he’d been before he walked into Caervorn was not the same one who walked out.

He felt me looking at him and turned just enough to catch my eye with an expression that said, clearly and without words, I may kill him later.

With one eyebrow raised, I thought in his direction, I’m here if you need help with the body.

Camrick smirked.

“General Allard is an Elemental Savant,” Vaustin clarified.

“I prefer Pan-Evoker,” Camrick said quickly, with a completely straight face.

I didn’t think Vaustin caught on that Camrick was purposefully needling him.