Page 100 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

The light-haired servant frowned as she dipped into a deep curtsy, tray still held miraculously upright. “We were instructed this was to be provided for my lady.”

Reina’s eyes burned into the girl, but she didn’t balk. Who would outrank Reina enough that she would accept it?

Only one name fit. Arrogant. Presumptuous. Infuriating. Thoughtful. Still the only man who’d ever made me come apart at the seams—and I hadn’t even fully had him in my bed.

Reina emitted a quiet, warning growl and mumbled so low I could barely hear, “Fool wants her to smell like a dessert.”

My stomach flipped. He’d said I smelled like baking spices. Now he wanted me sugared and softened, and set up nicely in a pretty box shaped like a castle.

I hated that my pulse betrayed me at the thought of him. I wanted to growl too.

Reina gestured for me to join her at the small round table a few of the servants were setting up with the trays of food. “Come, share lunch with me while they prepare.”

My feet carried me toward the scent of fresh-baked bread and spiced tea even before I consciously made the decision. One of the female servants pulled out the chair opposite the one Reina already sat in. I started to lower myself, but Reina made a sharp noise and held up one finger. “Allow her to slide the chair under you while you descend. She judges the space, you fall with grace.”

Guess she wasn’t joking about those etiquette lessons.

Reina’s presence was more than a bit severe—terrifying was probably the best word to describe it—so I did as she bade without complaint. There was worse I would endure to make my captivity easier. Though I still couldn’t help but wonder why a secret like me needed to know how to comport myself to courtly standards.

The moment the final tray was set down, Reina dismissed the servants with a swift flick of her hand. Staring at me, she lifted one dark eyebrow, and that hand flicked up again. Except this time, it made my ears pop.

“Now we have some privacy,” she said, slicing off a piece of the bread made of far finer flour than the type we had in Selmont.

I looked around. “Privacy?”

“I’m no ward-weaver like yourself, but I can cast and maintain a ward of silence around us.”

“Oh,” I said, rather dumbly. “Neat.”

“A lady does not say ‘neat’—at least not without a qualifier.”

“Extraordinarily neat, then, duchess,” I said with all the prim sincerity I could fake.

“Better.” Reina pointed her index finger at me. “Tend that fire. If you aren’t obstinate, the menfolk will dismiss someone as pretty as you.”

“Sounds like you have personal experience with that,” I ventured. Reina was a beautiful woman.

“Oh, they tried.” She grinned. But then her expression turned abruptly serious. “Eat while I share the good and bad news.”

My stomach clenched at bad news, but this order was one I was happy to comply with.

“First, the good.” Reina took a deep breath and slowly poured me a cup of the delightfully spicy tea with a healthy serving of cream and sugar. “The king woke up this morning and said his first words in several days. His swelling has also abated. You’ve performed a miracle.”

I allowed myself a small, triumphant smile as I heaped a rather large spoonful of honey atop the slab of butter I’d dressed my bread with. “Wonderful.”

Reina nodded, her serious look swiftly contorting into a grimace. “Now, the news that required secrecy, even amongst those I trust… You, my dear, have landed yourself in a massive pile of shit.”

I nearly spat out my tea at the rough statement coming from such a refined woman. Reina, I was rapidly learning, was the kind of person who could say “massive pile of shit” in exactly the same tone one might say “pass the sugar.”

Reina continued. “Our ability to keep you a secret lasted all of one night. We hadn’t expected you to pour so much magic into the king, all at once. It was impossible to disguise that a healer had been there.”

I inhaled sharply. “What does that mean for me?”

“That will have to wait until after I’ve described the manure we all have our toes in.”

The left side of my mouth quirked up. Reina mirrored the expression in a silent acknowledgment that maybe our senses of humor weren’t so different after all.

Her voice became a touch pedantic. “Someone wants Owain dead.”