Page 194 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

His faith in me felt settled across my shoulders like armor being buckled on—necessary, heavy, and only coming off when I was dead or done with the fight. I would not disappoint him.

Reina’s heels clacked on the flagstone, filling the following silence as she came to stand beside him, still disheveled and tear-streaked from her own fight. She dropped into a low curtsy.

One by one, the soldiers sank to their knees in a slow tide. The room felt like it was holding its breath. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve meant a somber celebration. But not here, not now. These men understood exactly what this moment would cost our kingdom, but they’d chosen to kneel anyway.

Lunette stiffened, caught in the agonizing uncertainty of the moment. Neither of us was ready for this, but I’d be damned if I ever expected moonlight to bow to shadow.

Before she could follow the soldiers down, I reached out and seized her hand, locking my arm to keep her standing. I didn’t move or say a word; I simply held her there, refusing to let the gap between us widen by even a fraction of a gesture.

For one beat, she looked at me. Then she straightened fully on her own, her fingers tightening around mine.

Still kneeling, Camrick looked at me with an expression that was deadly serious. Reina’s look said the same. It told me she was already working through scenarios and calculating for everything we might need next. She’d always known how to survive. I was grateful for it even as I grieved that she’d learned it the hard way.

I’d make certain she got the rest she deserved after all of this was over.

If we survived.

The Assembly had been caught red-handed in a coup and slain the king of a sovereign nation. I’d just done the same to the Mage Chancellor’s son—the man on whom they’d pinned every ambition they’d spent an entire generation building.

Only Maeron would grieve him. The rest would be coldly furious that their plans had been disrupted. That the magic they’d been stealing was now wasted. One thing was certain: They would reorganize.

Declarations hadn’t been made yet. But we would be at war—silent or overt—before nightfall. The crown I’d just informally accepted was already a weapon pointed back at me.

Good thing I had practice at being a target.

***

The solemnity of the moment was shattered by the sound of boots thundering toward the chamber. My heart rate spiked, and my hand tightened on Lunette’s.

What now?

Camrick rose at once, sword back in his grip. Every soldier turned toward the doorway as a young man stumbled inside, mud-spattered to his knees and breathing hard from the race to get here.

His eyes darted over the scene—the bodies, the kneeling soldiers, the smoldering ruin of the ward on the wall—and landed on me.

“My Prin—” He stopped. He seemed to come to an understanding that change had arrived before him. “Your Majesty.”

The title hung in the air as the room quietly ratified what had not yet been spoken aloud.

He paused for a breath, and his gaze darted to Lunette—who still stood beside me, chin held high—to her unique ears, and finally to her fingers intertwined with mine. The news of our relationship, and just how special she was, would travel faster than the official announcement of Berian’s passing.

“King Jonik of Gelida is dead.” His voice carried the rehearsed cadence of a man who’d repeated his message for miles yet still wrestled with its implications.

The sound of steel on leather coming from behind me marked more than one hand reflexively grasping a sword hilt. The near-simultaneous deaths of two kings would usher in an era of unrest, regardless of the Assembly’s interference.

The news settled in my mind as a cold adjustment rather than shock. Jonik’s death had been expected. But its timing was a disaster.

Nisien and Anwen weren’t yet wed. Gelida’s war of succession had probably already begun. And Maeron wouldn’t waste the opening to cause further chaos.

Vaustin’s death had already brought us to the edge of war, this almost certainly guaranteed it.

The pressure in my chest tightened. Lunette’s hand squeezed mine.

Breathe, Owain, it said. Keep standing with me.

That was all I needed. Everything would be okay with her by my side.

There would be time for grief and ceremony. The news would change everything, but we had more immediate problems. Two mages were still in custody. The rest, including Thibault, were dead.