Page 103 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“They’ll be watching him like ravens circling a battlefield, searching for weakness or the taint so many seem to want to see in him.”

“His magic?” I asked.

She nodded. “They don’t understand, nor do they know that we’re part Fae. Now…” She clapped her hands once. “Let’s get you ready.”

Tonight, I would see him beneath chandeliers instead of weak tallow candlelight. I wondered which version of him would hurt more—the prince or the real man who probably still lived beneath the title.

Knowing what Fate had done so far, it would be both at once.

Chapter 30

Owain

The oppressive light of a hundred candles guttered in the iron chandeliers overhead, their flames bowing and straightening in restless drafts. Three hearths roared along the pale stone walls, turning the formal dining hall into a kiln packed with perfumed, scheming bodies.

I was used to it, but tonight, especially, I hated every moment.

My embroidered doublet clung to me, the gold-threaded vines stitched across the dark green fabric catching the candlelight and throwing it back in glittering arcs. There were bloody ruffles at the shoulders—subtle, but there. Normally, I would’ve refused the clothing outright. But I’d let my valet fasten the ridiculous thing without protest.

Because I’d woken this morning feeling almost level. Because I’d been able to hold her under the excuse of carrying her to her room.

And at least it made me look every inch the polished, controlled, safe regent they needed me to be. Not a demon wearing a crown.

I’d spent years learning to wear the face that matched the clothes. The perfect, unreadable smile that said there was nothing to fear, when the truth was that the dark magic living beneath my skin had never once stopped pressing against its restraints. My tutors, people who were supposed to be friends, my own damn brother had called it a corruption.

But Luna’s book said it was a gift.

And now it surged, desperate to break out of this stifling room and anchor itself back to her. But she was already furious with me; if I let my magic take the reins now, would it ruin my last chance to fix this?

Sweat collected between my shoulder blades as the murmur of nobles rose and fell like the tide. Leather belts creaked as empty scabbards shifted. Jewels clicked faintly as hands tightened around golden goblets. Carefully measured laughter cut through the heavy air as two dozen eyes pretended they weren’t constantly watching me.

The head servant struck the meal bell, its clear chime slicing through the din of so many conversations. Chairs whispered back as a line of servants helped our guests find their places at the table.

I took the unfamiliar seat at the head of the long oak table, careful not to let my crown slip as I lowered myself, eyes scanning. Someone in this room was the Assembly’s man. I didn’t know which face he wore yet, but I’d learned years ago that they always had one at the table when it mattered.

On my right, Camrick settled with the soldierly stiffness he donned for these occasions. Across from us stretched a swath of Larethia’s bannermen, all draped in their house colors, their embroidered sigils gleaming.

On my left, two chairs still sat open…

Why two? I didn’t know. All I cared about was that Reina was late, and she was never late.

Initially, I thought she was probably avoiding the prattle of nobles. I would’ve traded my crown for that privilege. But as the first course was laid—smoked fish or light consommé, depending on your taste—the first flicker of unease wormed its way down my spine.

Reina was undoubtedly perfectly safe, but I worried this had something to do with my fiery Fae female.

Even as I answered every question asked of me, I thought of her. Was she resting? Lunette had weighed so little when I carried her to her room. Had she eaten the tray I’d ordered? Had Muffin liked the food I’d sent up for him? Was she reading? Exploring her apartment? Thinking of escape routes?

Thinking of me? Thinking of strangling me?

I definitely should not have liked that last thought.

The echo of her soft, uncertain voice from our conversation last night lingered in my mind, refusing to fade. She might not remember speaking to me, but I couldn’t forget a word. Her fragile “you can try” had felt like hope injected straight into my veins.

It steadied me enough that I managed to get through an entire course without needing to excuse myself to rip off the obnoxious ruffles. With the plates cleared and the second course on its way, Reina’s continued absence was like a missing limb.

I was halfway to signaling a footman when the double doors creaked open. Reina entered, as regal and composed as ever. My breath caught in my throat. She wasn’t alone.

The sight of Lunette struck me like a blade finding the gap between my ribs.