Page 201 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

It would also give us an opportunity to meet our allies. Anwen was a princess without enough of them, with a throne already being circled by men who wanted to steal it out from underneath her.

And yet Nisien was already in motion to help her prevent that future.

The game board was larger than I’d thought. The pieces more carefully placed. I let it all rest—Darreth, Gelida, the Assembly, all of it—and turned back to her.

This is what they almost took away from me, I thought, with an almost painful lucidity.

Not the crown, or Larethia.

Her. Just her—sitting sideways in a chair with ink on her wrist, singing to herself like the world wasn’t on fire.

She gave me the look that meant she’d already read my mind and was just waiting for me to confess.

“Luna.”

“Owain.”

“I’m very glad you were in that cabin.”

The smile that broke across her face was a beam of moonlight piercing a midnight sky. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine with such tenderness I almost wept.

When she pulled back, her lilac eyes were soft. “So am I.”

My crown joined hers on the corner of the desk.

Muffin immediately abandoned the curtain to harass us.

“No,” Lunette and I said together.

He scurried out onto the balcony, deeply wounded by our tyranny.

Somewhere below, a door opened and closed. I heard the distant sound of rapid boots on stone—a messenger or a guard moving with purpose through the quiet of the evening. The world was still out there, still demanding, still dangerous.

But when I looked at her, none of it mattered. The council could have the king in the morning. The world could have the queen soon enough.

Tonight, she was Luna. I was only Owain. And the crowns could stay on the desk.

Epilogue 2

Nisien

Weeks earlier.

Tir Gelida.

The princess of Gelida fought like she held a grudge against the entire world, right down to the ground beneath her feet.

Naturally, I was enchanted.

She’d spent the time since I’d arrived making it exquisitely clear that the feeling wasn’t mutual. The short sword she was currently trying to use to separate my head from my shoulders was only the latest evidence. The first time we met, she found me chained to a dungeon wall, blood streaming down my face to soak my collar, trying not to look too uncomfortable about it.

“You’re either very brave,” she said, arms crossed, “or remarkably stupid.”

That had made me sit a little straighter. I’d been called worse. “Both accusations have been made before.”

Her mouth didn’t so much as threaten a smile.

Then she’d reached out with her magic to test the edges of mine. I knew how to shield myself from all kinds of intrusion. But I’d never liked hiding who I was, and some reckless instinct told me she could see right through me—and that she knew exactly what I was holding back. Part of me hoped she would respect the transparency.