Page 86 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

I could’ve lied, but something about Nisien made dishonesty feel wrong. “It’s been more than a week.”

The faint smile that blossomed on his face made the hair rise along my arms.

“Magic is rarely as obedient as people wish it to be.” His gaze flicked toward the hearth, where the flames surged with the heat rising to my cheeks.

“I cannot promise I can save him,” I said, forcing my voice steady.

“They are only asking that you try.” His voice softened. “No one will blame you for failing to perform a miracle.”

I met his gaze, searching for any hint of mockery or cruelty that would allow me to dismiss him as just another entitled noble with polished manners. Except I found none. Only unvarnished honesty.

“You’re upset,” he continued, not accusing. “Reasonably so.”

I folded my hands on my apron, fingers already stiff with cold. I didn’t know if this prince was the sort of man who would count my fear against me if I showed it, but I refused to balk now. “What happens if I refuse?”

To his credit, Nisien didn’t dodge the question. “You delay the inevitable.” He nodded toward the line of mages behind him.

I swore I heard him mumble something under his breath about “Owain losing his bloody mind,” but I couldn’t be certain.

I swallowed. Nisien wasn’t threatening me. He was laying out the terrain. Hard to accept, but something I grudgingly respected. “And if I go?”

“Then you ride with me until your escort is out of the borderlands,” he said. “Conversation. No restraints. These men learn they can trust you.”

“Only until I’m out of the borderlands?” It was a hard truth to swallow, but I knew the only reason I thought I might feel safe with Nisien was because he was Owain’s friend.

A softer smile reappeared on his face. “I aim for Gelida’s capital after that.”

To woo their princess.

Behind him, Richart held up the cage. Nisien glanced at him and made an unprincely sound of frustration. “Owain said you might want the ‘little demon’—his words, not mine—to come with you.”

It was my turn to make an unladylike sound of ire directed straight at the evoker.

Richart bristled. “Your Highness, we must hurry—”

“I did say subordinate, not associate earlier,” Nisien said pleasantly, the cut of his words so clean it took Richart a long moment to realize he’d been insulted.

To my surprise, Richart didn’t look offended; he looked ashamed.

So there’s hope for him yet.

Nisien’s gaze snapped back to me, with a sudden sharpness in his eyes that made me pay attention. “Lady Lunette. Your king, Owain’s brother, is dying. You might be the only person who can save him.”

I hated that my chest tightened before my ego could rally a defense. Hated that my compassion answered before anger could. Nisien just had to be charming then pull on my heartstrings and pride.

Hated even more that my desire to see Owain outweighed my fear and anger combined. Even if this was for the king, this situation bore the marks of Owain’s direct involvement.

But at least he considered that you’d want Muffin with you. That thought hurt.

“I need time to pack,” I said. With so little time, I was suddenly glad I’d given the mercenaries’ horses away for a pittance.

“Take it,” Nisien replied without hesitation. “I’ll ensure no one disturbs you. But don’t worry overmuch. All your needs will be met in the Tir.”

All my needs except staying home.

“I’m shutting the door now,” I announced loudly. I couldn’t bear the gentle look of pity Nisien was giving me, or the lines of worry etched on every soldier’s face in the clearing any longer.

I closed the door. Grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.