Page 64 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

One hand rose to cup my cheek—firmer this time. He gently tilted my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze again.

“No, you’re meant for whatever you choose,” he said, voice low and fierce, like he couldn’t stand the thought of me believing anything less. “Your kindness, generosity. Your quiet strength. Your mind. Gods, your magic, all of it makes a woman who deserves to be somewhere she’s honored.”

I shut my eyes, fighting the lump in my throat. If I opened them, I’d say yes. I knew that down to my bones. And if I did…

The wards would fall.

The village would be vulnerable.

The children would die. Louie, with his gap-toothed grin and adorable snorting laugh. Little Celine with her fresh scar.

Crimson splatter. All I could imagine would end in red.

And my usefulness—my purpose, my family’s legacy—would crumble.

Owain’s gaze met mine as I slowly opened my eyes. I could tell by his expression that he’d meant every single word. That made what I said next all the harder. “Somehow, your men got through my wards, which means I’m going to have to patch them up.”

His face twisted with a mixture of pain, understanding, and anger, each emotion fighting for dominance. “One woman shouldn’t have to keep an entire village alive.” He shifted beside me, unease written in every rigid line of his body as his hand dropped back to my arm.

“I could spare forces,” he said carefully. “Your cabin could serve as the initial base for a garrison. We can expand forces once the ice thaws.”

I barely kept my voice down. “Now you want to do something about the raids in the borderlands?”

“Stopping them is exactly what brought me to your doorstep,” he said quickly, hands lifting as if to placate me.

His earnestness doused most of my fire, beating back my anger into a quiet ache. I sank lower onto the bed, slower this time, trying to fit the pieces together. “You were heading off to fight,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the floor, the wall—anything but me. “No. I was traveling to forge an alliance with Gelida.”

Instead of the understanding I’d hoped for, confusion swiftly set in. “So you want me to go with you to Gelida first?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not traveling there anymore. Not for months. Hopefully never.” He paused. “Nisien is going in my place.”

I frowned. “How,” I asked slowly, “can the prince of Darreth broker a deal for Larethia?”

With a sigh, Owain looked up, lines of defeat etched into his features. “It was to be a possible marriage alliance.”

Something inside me snapped. He’d come to me first. He was mine before some other woman could claim him.

Ridiculous, Luna. Fate didn’t bring him to your door, bloody politics did.

I was shrugging off his hands, on my feet, before I realized I’d moved, the motion abrupt enough that he startled. My heart pounded in my ears. “So you were just about to bed me,” I said, each word as sharp as glass, “even though you were engaged?”

“Not—” He broke off, his jaw muscles visibly tensing. “Not engaged. Just…meant to evaluate. See if we would fit.” His voice had almost evaporated by the last word.

I paced, a prisoner of the storm of emotion that ravaged me. My gaze lifted to him, and the weight of my resolve settled into a dull ache in my chest.

“No,” I said finally. “You can’t leave men here.”

He stiffened. “Lunette—”

“This village survives because no one notices it,” I said. “It doesn’t belong to kings or princes or their wars.” My hands curled into fists at my sides. “If you surround it with steel, it will burn. If not by the raiders’ fire, then by our neighbors’ hatred.”

My wards protected a place that no longer existed in most minds. If Selmont became a place worth guarding, it would become a place worth taking.

The silence between us felt like a suffocating blanket. A strange calm settled over me as I realized that desire wouldn’t be deciding our fate. Our futures hinged on the sacrifices we were prepared to make.

Something told me that the next person to speak would be making a choice that couldn’t be undone. The shadows that had been nervously tapping by his feet were waiting, those on his wrists and neck utterly still.