Page 95 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Lunette

A maid with blue-black hair, wearing a perfectly crisp black gown, its cuffs intricately woven with gold thread, stood at the foot of the servants’ stairs. Her hands were clasped before her, her body held with the rigid stillness of long practice. I hadn’t noticed her until she moved.

As Richart set my trunk down, she stepped forward, dropping into a deep curtsy.

For me. The curtsy was for me.

I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Didn’t know what to do with my face. I’m sure I looked like a bewildered fool with my mouth agape.

“I'm Anne. If it pleases you, I will see to your veska,” she said. “We have already prepared your chambers for Master Muffin.”

It does not please me, I thought.

But before I could protest, Richart passed Muffin’s cage into her careful grip. Muffin made an indignant squeak in my direction, tiny claws scraping against the wooden slats. The maid softly whispered in a low, steady murmur, her voice seasoned with the experience of soothing countless creatures as temperamental as an alpine veska.

I felt like I’d just surrendered the last piece of home I still controlled. I even took a step toward them, only to halt myself abruptly. This was right. Muffin would be safer wherever they were going to keep me than in a royal sickroom.

“My lady, I will take your trunk to your apartment,” Richart said, bidding me farewell and disappearing with the servant who’d taken Muffin.

Reina reappeared a heartbeat later, and we were off. Reality crashed in with every step. I hadn’t used my magic in days so I still didn’t know if it would even work right. Nisien had said they didn’t expect me to perform a miracle, but was that true?

Camrick led the way while Reina remained at my side. In my entire life, I’d never even dreamed of a place so grand. The warm, golden light poured through the arched windows lining one side of the corridor helped my heart slow from its anxious rhythm. Tiny crystals caught in the tan stone underfoot shimmered, reflecting the autumn colors still clinging stubbornly to the trees outside.

I was so captivated by the view that I almost missed the sudden shift in the air. My body tried to warn me that something was about to change, but I didn’t listen. It started with a faint sensation, like a pinprick at the locus of my magic, near my heart. The prickle washed outward like a wave until it reached the soles of my feet.

Then, with a jolt, my senses exploded. I became hyper-aware of my surroundings. Every fiber of my being tingled with involuntary alertness. I could smell him. Feel him in the way you know you’re approaching fire before ever getting burned. It was recognition, some wordless part of me trying to tell me to pay attention.

It was probably a very good thing I didn’t see him at that moment.

I’d thought I was coming close to making peace with the situation I’d been thrust into, but something about the way the smallest traces of him lit up my senses made the wildness inside me want to bare its teeth. And not entirely at him.

More worryingly, the current beneath my skin, which had been sputtering and unreliable for weeks, suddenly ran straight and true like a river finding its proper course. These halls were saturated with him, and my magic had steadied.

But the explanation was undoubtedly simple. My magical reserves had been so depleted for so long that I’d simply forgotten what full felt like. Then they’d forced me to rest. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Didn’t have to be that my body and magic had decided that the man who’d dragged me across the kingdom was necessary.

My jaw clenched with each stride.

That arsehole!

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Tried not to react to the sensation as we walked toward the king’s room, to show that nothing had happened, but I stumbled where I felt him strongest.

“Where is Prince Owain?” I asked in a whisper.

Camrick turned to raise one questioning eyebrow at Reina then immediately turned back.

Suspicious.

Reina’s response had a tinge of forced nonchalance to it. “He’s dealing with official matters. With Berian ill and the queen…absent, he is the Regent of Larethia.”

Regent? I’d known King Berian didn’t have an heir, but I hadn’t truly thought of Owain in that way before now. Guess I’d have time to get used to the idea.

I was tracing the lines in the stones beneath my feet with my eyes, lost in thoughts of him, until Camrick’s back was suddenly an inch from my nose, and the shock of his sturdy frame pulled me out of that hole. We stood before an impossibly tall and wide arched door bound by iron. Four guards wearing full sets of armor, swords in sheaths, surrounded it.

A quick flick of Camrick’s wrist and a stern look from Reina made the two men in the middle move as one to seize a giant handle to pull the doors open. The thick, humid air spilling from the room was heavy with the overwhelming aroma of countless medicinal herbs. In five steps, I found myself in the hushed, dimly lit private chamber of Larethia’s king.

Benevolent gods, this is really happening.