Page 125 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Conversations resumed, though now threaded with glances cast our way. I was keenly aware of Owain beside me—the warmth of his arm, the measured rhythm of his breathing, the controlled stillness he wore like armor.

I watched in dismay as Reina quickly bustled out of the Great Hall. I’d agreed to put on a merry show; I just didn’t think I’d be doing it alone.

Owain leaned closer the moment the first course was set before us. To anyone watching, it would’ve appeared intimate.

“You look radiant,” he said, lifting his goblet. There was something almost savage in the way his gaze lingered on the curve of my ear.

“You look ambushed,” I replied sweetly.

His mouth twitched. “My aunt moves swiftly.”

“That she does. And she’s not even joining us for lunch,” I murmured, smiling brightly at a table of captains who raised their cups in our direction. “She wants the court to think we might be interested in each other.”

“And are we?” he asked, quiet voice tinged with something that almost sounded like hope.

Before I could answer, one of the warriors called out, “A toast to the lady!” Then, staring at my ears, “Her presence can only be a gift from the gods themselves!”

Owain rose fluidly, offering me his hand. I let him pull me to my feet, allowing my fingers to lace with his. He was trembling faintly, though you couldn’t tell by looking at him.

“To unexpected blessings,” he declared.

His thumb moved up to press gently into the pulse at my wrist as the hall roared, sending a shiver of awareness down my spine. The movement was a reminder that he could feel it racing.

Then he turned our clasped hands, pressing his lips briefly to my knuckles. What he was doing was completely innocent, but the glint in his eyes made me think of teeth grazing skin in the dark. He slowly lowered my hand, but it felt like the moment right before those teeth clamped down on soft skin—not to hurt, but to claim.

I barely controlled a full-bodied shudder. Ohh, I am in trouble.

Without any knowledge of Reina’s scheme, he was implementing it flawlessly. Or this was what he’d wanted all along, a growing voice inside insisted.

“Unexpected,” I echoed his words while meeting his gaze.

Owain leaned closer again as we sat. “Still furious?”

“For the abduction or being thrown to the wolves?” I smiled at a passing servant. “You said you would never take what wasn’t freely given. I suppose exceptions can be made when you’re royalty.”

He flinched, a genuine, uncontrolled reaction. I wanted to take it back immediately, but his lips hovered a fraction too close to the sensitive point of my ear, breath ghosting over it in promise. “No exception should’ve been made.”

I kept my smile fixed for the room. “That sounded like accountability.”

“It was intended as groveling.”

“Poorly timed. We have an audience.”

His gaze flicked over the hall then back to me. “It’s too easy to forget when I’m near you.”

My pulse stuttered.

Then, louder—warm and teasing for the hall to hear: “Eat, Lunette. You’ll need your strength. My aunt intends to parade you throughout the Tir before you visit our king.”

I smiled sweetly at the watching men. “How fortunate I’ve always had stamina.”

The roar of laughter covered the sharp inhalation he failed to suppress.

But the longer I sat upon the dais, crowned in gold and bathed in sunlight, with a hall full of warriors bearing witness, the less it felt like a performance. It felt like standing at the edge of a blade—one step back and I would fall onto the Assembly’s pikes, one step forward and I would soar into the life I was pretending to own.

As the warriors filed out of the Great Hall, Owain stood and extended his elbow for me to take if I wished it. Yet another choice, in a day so full of choices I was drowning in them.

He didn’t coax or offer any charming murmurs about the room watching. He didn’t pressure me at all. Just offered his elbow between us, his body angled so I could dismiss it entirely if I wished.