Page 40 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Gods, I was a better man than this. She deserved one who made her feel wanted, worshiped, not just watched.

I pushed myself even further into the corner and purposefully squeezed the most sensitive part of my wound, reining myself in with pain because my discomfort was nothing compared to the cost of her unease.

I’d rather die.

Get it together, I chided myself. You are her crowned prince. And you have dignity, damn it.

But my dignity was rapidly losing the battle with the lust rushing back in after having been gone for so long. Thank the gods my complexion was slightly tanned by the sun, because otherwise my face would’ve shown my shame like a bright red banner.

By the time she approached, I was fighting against ogling her chest.

She noticed.

And she smirked.

Fuck. I jerked my gaze to her eyes. Lilac orbs stared down at me as she placed her weight on the bed. I stilled completely, letting her command the space. She lifted my tunic, removed my bandages, and placed her hands just around my wound.

My shadows greeted her touch with another jolt that felt more like fingertips tracing bare skin than the little zaps it had been before. But soon the agony of rapid healing speared through me. I hissed, the fabric of the bedsheets digging into my palms where I gripped them.

Then the itching that accompanied her healing started. The world blurred, and I no longer had to worry about my body’s response to her.

***

I woke hours later, finding only darkness when I opened my eyes, but I was more comfortable than I’d ever been in my plush bed at the castle. My wound felt worlds better. I couldn’t see them, but I knew the feeling of stitches sitting comfortably in flesh after pulling for so long. And breathing was no longer painful.

This woman was nothing less than a blessing. No, a gift from the forgotten gods themselves.

I lay on my good side with Lunette curled beside me beneath the same blanket. She rested on her back, and a lock of her hair had found its way to my pillow, tickling my face. Her breath was soft and steady. One hand was tucked lightly against her chest; the other rested next to my stomach.

I didn’t dare move. The simple, innocent contentment filling all my hollow spaces was so complete I almost felt like a different person. I wanted more nights like this with her. Just like I wanted her soft breath warming my skin in sweat-soaked, moan-inducing ways.

Yet neither dream was possible. A crown chained me to the Tir, to the dais in the throne room—in Larethia or Gelida, behind a throne I hadn’t chosen and couldn’t abandon. That alone should’ve been enough to close the door.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

She had no idea who I was, and yet she’d taken me in and saved my life. Now she offered me her trust enough to sleep beside me. The world tried to break her—repeatedly. Yet she endured its cruelty without giving it in return.

She was too clean, too bright for all the shadows I cast. I could never be enough. Where my magic devoured and erased, hers protected and restored. That meant the burden of my attraction was mine alone to manage, not hers to endure.

And yet…

Nocthel are never raised alone. They are rare and cherished. The words surfaced unbidden, quieter than I wanted them to be deep down. I’d spent my whole life believing my instincts were something to suppress—something monstrous in need of a leash. She’d handed me a different story in a single evening, as if I deserved to have it. As if what lived inside me had a name, a history, a purpose rather than just a cost.

I still didn’t know what to do with that, or if I could even trust the idea yet.

The book had also handed me something I couldn’t unknow. Changes in behavior must be met with patience, honesty, and care—lest the shadows turn inward.

Honesty.

There were simply too many reasons for Lunette to reject a man like me. I’d offered her a false name along with a great dose of trouble if those who’d tried to kill me tracked me here. There was also the possibility that her business would suffer because of my unacceptable behavior.

I could send her a cartful of gold and supplies, but that wouldn’t solve the problem of how the other villagers treated her. And it wouldn’t give me more of this.

She could never know how I felt. That much hadn’t changed.

I didn’t yet have the solution, but I knew one thing: I felt selfish when it came to her. And that was a problem for two reasons. I’d never been selfish before. And I couldn’t allow my selfishness to be the reason she lost her peace.

For tonight, though, I indulged myself, falling back into dreams of having more than I deserved. Whatever I was—Shadow Fae, Nocthel, prince, or demon—I would try to be the right kind of man to wake beside.