Page 107 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

This time I stepped closer. One more step, and we would be chest to chest.

“No, Lunette,” I said, unraveling already. I wanted to growl it, but I’d already acted like a beast enough while surviving without her. No one needed more of that side of me now. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“That doesn’t make it right.” Her voice quivered, and her tightly clenched fists trembled. “Dragging me from my home? Parading me in front of your court? You think those things are protecting me?”

“No,” I said, forcing myself not to reach for her. “I wanted to think that. It made me feel less monstrous if I could call it protection.”

Her lips moved, but no sound came out to break the quiet that held me captive.

“I destroyed the trust you had in me.” The immediate, searing guilt surged forward, eclipsing every scrap of logic I had to tease out what she wanted me to say. “I didn’t bring you here for politics. But I don’t exactly have a choice of avoiding them either. Lunette, you’re…”

“What?” Her voice rose then steadied with effort. “I’m what, Your Highness?”

The one thing I’ve ever wanted.

My sanity. Because losing you would rip out my soul.

My mate. Because the bond snapped into place for me even before I kissed you.

Damn it. I couldn’t tell her now, not like this. I swallowed, regretting every sip of wine tonight. “You’re here because Berian is dying.”

Her chin rose, a silent but powerful declaration of her refusal to yield. And, fuck, I loved that about her too. But then I watched the exact moment hurt flickered beneath the anger.

“I’m a tool here. Just like I was in Selmont.”

“Never.” It was perhaps the second most impulsive action I’d ever taken, but I raised my hand to her stubborn chin and gently cradled it.

The heat between us was immediate. The bond surged, making heat flood my veins, and a tightness grip my chest. She felt it too. I saw it in the way her breath faltered.

“I deserve your ire,” I said. “And I know I don’t get to repair this by wanting you badly enough.” Her breath hitched, but I made myself continue. “I’ll fix what’s between us if it’s the last thing I do.”

Her lips parted in surprise and dawning realization. She remembered.

The space between us shrank to almost nothing as I took that step forward. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my mouth. If she leaned forward even a fraction—if she gave me the smallest permission—I wouldn’t stop.

Her eyes searched my face, as if looking for the man from the cabin. The one who’d laughed easier. The one who’d been able to touch her without needing to cage her just to keep her safe. I wished I could give her him.

Moonlight didn’t fear the dark—it never would’ve occurred to it. That was the problem. She’d walk straight into me, and I would close around her without meaning to, the way shadows did, the way night did: completely, and without apology.

I had to be careful with the brightest light in my sky.

I went on before I lost my nerve. “When Berian is stable, I will arrange your return to Selmont.”

She went still.

“I hate that you’re surprised,” I said, disliking how raw the words sounded. “A carriage with guards. Coin for repairs. Supplies for the village. And if you decide never to set foot in the Tir again, I’ll miss you until the day I die.”

For the first time, her anger wavered into something I hoped was promising.

“Easy to say in a hallway,” she countered.

“I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss a person.”

Her breath hitched, her lips parting slightly.

Behind us, the door swung open, and I quickly stepped back, letting my hand fall. Her warmth vanished, leaving me feeling like a snuffed-out candle, ruined and lifeless in the dark.

“But, Lunette, even if it destroys me,” I whispered, “I have to protect you from my world.”