Page 109 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

The memory of his warm, devastatingly tender touch lingered. I tried to ignore the way my chest pulled tight, tugging me toward him. I tried to push it down like I was suppressing everything right now, but it wasn’t working.

I clenched my palms in the folds of my skirts to stop their trembling. The silk at my temples felt smothering, the delicate chains woven into my hair suddenly too heavy. I barely resisted the childish urge to tear them out and scatter gold across the floor.

I was doing a terrible job of hiding how I felt from Reina. Her steps were slow beside me, but her utter lack of fluidity screamed “performance.” She was unnerved by the news breaking so quickly.

We rounded the next bend, and I slowed. The corridor hummed with tension, taut as a bowstring about to snap. There were more guards than before. Each man stood rigid, hands near sword hilts, eyes sharp beneath their helms.

“They’re…new,” I whispered.

“Presence to tame nerves, nothing more,” Reina replied evenly.

“That’s only half true,” I said quietly.

“Correct,” she said, finally turning her head to look directly at me, one eyebrow raised. “In a place full of dangerous individuals, how safe people feel often matters more than their actual security.”

I nodded. Having only been brought to my room once before while I was unconscious, and once to leave it for dinner, the corridor was still unfamiliar. I only recognized the distinctive door next to mine, but there were two guards flanking it this time. I stopped in front of it, making Reina back up a few paces to join me.

“I’d like to heal His Majesty again before sleep if that’s possible.” Hearing about his wife’s passing had pulled at my heartstrings and made me more determined to stabilize him.

“Well,” Reina said, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I think you going in there would send the wrong message.”

“You said everyone already knows about me!” I kept my voice low so the watching guards would have to strain to understand.

“That, my dear, is Owain’s apartment. The king’s is down the hall.”

My cheeks combusted into flames at the unspoken implication. “Oh, I…see. ”

“You inhabit the princess’s suite.”

I’d known there was no princess, yet the revelation still hit me hard. My stomach suddenly felt like it was being squeezed tight, rejecting what little I’d managed to eat of the decadent food earlier. They’d nailed perches all over the princess’s suite for me?

Luna, you cannot hyperventilate in front of Owain’s room. That would definitely send the wrong message.

Reina smirked at the expression of shock I couldn’t keep off my face. She asked, “Is it possible for you to restrict your healing enough to walk back on your own?”

I nodded. “I know my limits.”

“Good,” Reina said. “Because Owain is occupied with reassuring the banquet’s remaining guests. And I think he would execute anyone I permitted to carry you to bed.”

Something like hope bloomed in my chest before I could squash it down with the reality we were facing.

I had mistaken my usefulness for my intrinsic value for years. And here I was, doing it again—trying to walk into a dying king’s room because it was the only armor I knew how to put on.

The guards straightened as we approached, and the doors opened at Reina’s command.

The room remained unchanged, with the king still resting in his bed, cocooned by a thick layer of furs. Though this time he stirred slightly at the intrusion.

“Your Majesty,” Reina announced in a subdued voice. “Apologies for the unplanned visit.”

Berian’s lashes fluttered once, twice, and then his eyes opened. Unfocused and confused at first, they settled on me only briefly. Then they slid past me to Reina, sharpening with a glint of interest.

“My Duchess,” Berian murmured, voice rough with sleep and whatever draughts his other healers had been pouring into him.

Reina flinched at the familiar use of her title, then glided across the room. She lowered herself gracefully onto the edge of his mattress near his shoulder. Her blue skirts pooled across the furs, a lighter splash of nighttime sky against the dark bear fur.

“I’m afraid you’re not dead yet,” she replied with honey-sweetness, though her posture was stiff enough to look uncomfortable. “Though you insisted on testing the boundary multiple times. Dying is unacceptable, Berian.”

His mouth curved into a crooked, boyish smile that reminded me of his baby brother.