Page 91 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Getting out of Selmont had always been my dream—just not like this.

As our traveling party was about to approach the first watch post, Richart sidled his horse alongside mine. His basso voice carried easily over the sound of the hooves. “Time to dismount, lady.”

My back and thighs throbbed with exhaustion from so many continuous hours on horseback, pleading with me to do just that, even though it seemed premature. We weren’t even past the first checkpoints yet. Deciding to trust him, I gently tugged on the reins, guiding my mare to the side of the path as I followed him toward the small fortification.

Legs wobbly, I waited next to my small trunk and Muffin’s cage as he handed our horses off to two of the other riders. He said nothing as he strolled to the iron door of the watch post and tapped out a series of knocks that could only have been a sort of password.

The door swung open just as he was preparing to knock once more. He flinched but immediately found his way into a deep bow. From my angle, I couldn’t tell who he was bowing to, but I braced myself for the emotional blow anyway.

A feminine voice whipped out like a smack. “Get up, Richart. Shouldn’t you be carrying the lady’s things in?”

He shot out of the bow with startling swiftness. “Yes, Duchess.”

He rushed over to us and reached for the trunk. I held Muffin’s cage tight. “I’ll be carrying this,” I said, my tone sharp.

Maybe you should cut the poor sod some slack, Luna. He’s here under orders, just like you.

“Thank you for the thought, though, Richart. Lead on.”

He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with genuine pleasure.

Looks like I made the right choice.

I entered through the open door ahead of him, cage tucked under my arm. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior. Inside, the same beige stone stretched onward, its rough texture catching the flickering, solitary torch. And there, standing in a corner, was a woman, staring back at me with the same midnight purple eyes as Owain.

His aunt.

I took her in. Her hair was a deep, rich brown, nearly black, and her skin had a slightly deeper tan than Owain’s. Their noses were the same too—though his had certainly been broken in the past. She wore a sleek cobalt blue gown, trimmed with gilt stitching, and cinched at the waist with a delicate gold belt.

Because I didn’t know what else to do, I performed a messy curtsy. When I straightened, I caught the tail end of some emotion quickly and carefully leashed. She allowed curiosity to cross her face before one eyebrow went up in quiet censure. “Well, we certainly have work to do on that.”

Her genuine smile and gesture to come closer softened the blow. “I’m Reina.” She offered her hand and said, brooking no questions, “Now, let’s get a move on.”

Was the king hidden up the staircase leading to the top of the watch post? Because I saw nothing here besides a table, one chair, the solitary torch, and the stairs. That was until she stomped her foot once, and I felt the telltale vibration of magic in the air.

Benevolent gods.

I watched, mouth gaping, as an illusion—the first I’d ever seen—fell away beneath her feet. Reina was standing atop a wooden trapdoor. She took a step back then motioned for Richart to open it. Setting the trunk down, he hastened to comply.

Before I knew it, I was climbing down an impossibly tall iron ladder, plunging into the earth’s depths. Nobody had mentioned ominous caverns—a significant omission in Owain and Nisien’s pitches about coming to the Tir.

Reina stood at the bottom of the descent, casting a magelight to guide us—another magical first for me—and Richart braced himself to catch me if I fell.

The moment my boots hit the stone floor, Reina ordered Richart to take Muffin’s cage and the trunk. “Your king requires your strength,” she reasoned. Though from her, it sounded more like a command than an explanation.

I couldn’t puzzle it out. Why weren’t we using the main gates? The part of me still secretly enchanted by tales of Fae courts and their magical castles wanted to see the moat and the massive drawbridge up close. I’d waited my entire life to see a city. Nobody had mentioned I’d be smuggled into it through a hole in the ground like contraband.

Without further ado, we started moving. A sense of urgency echoed in the silent space with every step Reina took as she led us through the gloom.

We were in a tunnel, the walls jagged from whatever had scoured the earth. The dark pressed in from all sides. I kept my eyes on the ground and reminded myself that the earth above my head wouldn’t suffocate me like my anxieties currently were.

“This place is a royal secret, Lady Lunette,” she said. “An escape route from the keep should we ever suffer siege. Earth mages hollowed it out hundreds of years ago while the Fae still reigned.”

I didn’t have to crouch, and at least four men could’ve walked side-by-side comfortably in the space. The amount of power that had gone into digging this out was mind-boggling.

Feeling like I had to say something, I asked, “Why is everyone calling me lady?”

Richart’s throat produced a strangled, involuntary noise of distress, as if even asking had hurt his moral sensibilities. At this rate, I was going to give the man a genuine episode.