Page 82 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Cam let himself be hauled along with exaggerated reluctance. “In such a rush,” he drawled, twisting his mouth into something that suggested wicked amusement rather than concern. “All fired up now that the woman who broke your heart is riding straight back into your arms?”

I shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood. “She’s not,” I growled. “She’s coming for Berian.”

Camrick snorted, the sound bouncing off the vaulted ceiling. “Yeah, I saw those luscious curves.”

I had him against the wall with one hand before he finished the word. The two guards following us flinched as if to defend him then thought better of it when they remembered who was doing the shoving.

I left the threat my eyes promised him unuttered.

Lunette was mine. She would always be mine. She was meant to be with me.

Instead of fear, the bastard grinned like he knew some grand secret that would change the universe and couldn’t wait to tell everyone about it. Cam’s voice was very prim, even as I pressed my forearm across his chest with enough force to steal the air from his lungs. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Fuck. I’d shoved my best friend into a wall because he’d said something objectively true. Yet again, I’d proven myself to be Avanfell’s worst friend, a terrible prince, and a disappointment. Still…

“You may compliment her. But if I hear anything distasteful from your mouth again…” I snarled silently, pushed him into the wall hard enough to make him lose his breath then let Camrick drop to the ground. He found his feet easily, still smiling at me like a fool.

Was he trying to get beaten into oblivion, or was he testing me for some reason?

“That was out of order,” I said gruffly, not quite meeting his eye. He hadn’t deserved that, even if his actions were provocative.

“I deserved it.” He shrugged. “What I said was out of line.”

“It was. So shut the fuck up and walk faster,” I grumbled.

There was a restless energy humming beneath my skin—too much blood in my veins, too much breath in my lungs. I told myself it was the urgency of duty. The lonely crown hovering over my head like an executioner’s axe. That this feeling had nothing to do with the fact that Lunette would be here soon, but not soon enough.

The guards posted outside Reina’s apartment barely had time to straighten before the doors flew open on a clumsy burst of telekinetic magic. My secondary gifts hadn’t listened to me properly since leaving Selmont either.

Reina shot up from her desk, magic ready to cut us into ribbons.

“Hello, Aunt!” I announced, loosening my grip on Cam’s arm at last. He was probably bruised in multiple places at this point from my enthusiasm.

Reina studied me for a long moment, expression wary. She turned to Camrick and asked, “Is he drunk?”

“Hasn’t had a drop,” Camrick replied, pleased.

The sharpness in her shoulders eased, just a fraction. She nodded, forgiving the frankly criminal intrusion but not backing down. “Don’t bloody burst into my room again. I almost attacked you. Why—by the forgotten gods—are you carrying a children’s book, Owain? Are you certain he hasn’t been hitting the whiskey?”

I grinned and laid the book on her desk. It felt good to tell them what Lunette had said about us not being Shadow Fae at all, at least not as we understood it. Reina took the news well, barely reacting to it, really.

She sat back down and folded her hands into her lap. “We aren’t the same, Owain. I came to public life as a grown woman when Amara caught your father’s eye. You had the court’s attention as a babe in arms. A new name isn’t a redefinition for me. It’s like using a title in a different language. For you, it’s everything.” She fell into thought for a moment, finger tapping the book. “A woman living alone in the borderlands had this treasure?”

I looked at Camrick, realizing I’d left out one very important piece of information about Lunette in my brief discussions with Reina since returning. “Aunt, Lunette is…Fae.”

Reina raised one eyebrow.

“Very Fae,” Camrick said, sketching out pointed ears over his own with his fingers.

Her eyes widened. But then Nisien walked in, interrupting whatever she’d wanted to ask. Nisien had spent the intervening time entertaining the nobles and soldiers, officially in the name of diplomacy, but underneath it all, I think he was just being a good friend.

With everyone gathered, I finally outlined our reasoning and strategy for escorting Lunette to the Tir. As I saw it, my logic was perfectly sound, my decision practical. I hadn’t suggested once that I go myself. I had to remain in the Tir for the stability of the court.

Yet when I finished, Reina was pacing and her fingers were twisting the material of her skirts like it was the only thing keeping her from twisting my neck. Nisien’s gaze grew keen, too keen, a flicker of calculation and amusement dancing in his eyes.

“So?” I asked.

Reina’s temper finally detonated, cheeks flushing, eyes going black. “This might save your brother,” she snapped, voice ringing off the stone walls. “But, Owain—do you not realize that this will turn out the exact opposite of what you’re hoping with Lunette? Don’t try to pretend this isn’t partially about seeing her again! Berian’s condition necessitates her immediate attention, but it doesn’t make her yours to requisition!”