Page 131 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“Wise, but somehow also lazy and ungrateful. Some things never change…” She harrumphed, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “Lunette is napping. We had a more eventful afternoon than expected. She’ll eat dinner in her room. Relax with a book or keep up with her correspondence.”

I sat up straighter. “And what do you hope to talk me into?”

“Nothing! You deserve one night off too. I’ve already circulated that you’ll be spending time with Berian tonight.” She tapped the stack of papers with a knowing look. “Things are going to be tense as soon as the mage contingent arrives. I need you well-rested and clear-headed.”

I can think of one thing that would make me clear-headed, but that’s out of reach until she decides to let me back in.

Reina twirled one of my quills in her deft fingers. “I’m surprised you didn’t have Lunette’s family sent with her. As a matter of fact, I know nothing about your mate’s family, nephew.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to know. Her parents died—they were mated too—and she was the only child.”

“Oh…that’s quite unfortunate,” she said slowly. Then, “Well, perhaps you could drop by and update her about the wardsmith you left behind in Selmont then. And Owain, you need to tell her what Vaustin can do. She needs to be prepared.”

Talk of the Assembly’s top henchman almost soured my mood. “Are you giving me your official blessing to be near the ‘future princess of Larethia?’”

“Yes—don’t mess it up.” She clenched her fist, the gesture halfway between a threat and a laugh. “I refuse to explain to the court why my nephew started an incident because he forgot how to behave around a pretty woman.”

Reina quickly left to talk to her band of servants. Every single one of them was, in reality, a spy.

I worked until early evening settled over the castle like a black cloak, anticipation threading through me like a live thing.

When I finally left my apartment, the family corridor was silent but for the torches burning steadily in their iron brackets and the occasional creaking of leather and steel as the guards shifted in place. At Lunette’s door, a servant was just stepping out, balancing an empty tray against her hip. She dipped into a quick curtsy as she noticed me. “Prince Regent.”

“Good evening,” I said, slipping inside before she’d taken two steps down the corridor. It would only help my case if she gossiped about this.

One step into the room, and the scent of flowers filled my nostrils. The weather had long since stripped the countryside bare, yet these flowers were impossibly vibrant. Every available surface—tables, the mantel, the windowsill, even the chest at the end of the bed—had been claimed by bright clusters of blooms. Crimson roses, pale blue starflowers, golden bells drooping from green stems. All magic grown, which meant they’d cost a bloody fortune. Whoever had sent them had both coin and motive.

My mate bond tightened around my chest, promising to loosen the moment I removed my competitor.

Coryanthus. Had to be him. I recognized his particular brand of expensive sentiment from watching him charm his way into many a noble daughter’s bedroom. He was handsome, titled, and widely considered charming by people who’d never actually needed to rely on him.

The rational part of my mind—not operating at full capacity currently—knew that Lunette was a grown woman who’d managed her own affairs for considerably longer than she’d known me. That she owed me nothing. That jealousy of this particular shade was beneath my dignity as a prince of Larethia.

I noted all of that.

And then I looked at the roses again.

I’ll cut his cock off before I cut out his heart.

Lunette stood near the hearth, wiping her hands on a cloth as if she’d just finished eating. The firelight gilded the bright copper in her hair.

So lovely.

“Who sent you these?” I demanded, voice coming out far harsher than I’d intended.

Her head snapped toward me. Immediately, her arms crossed over her chest. “That,” she said coolly, “is none of your business, Your Highness.”

Probably not the best way to start this, Owain.

But I couldn’t seem to help myself. I shut the door behind me with a whip of shadow.

At the sound of our voices, Muffin came bounding in from the porch. He immediately scrambled up my trousers and tunic to wrap himself around my neck like a living scarf, making a soft churring sound.

“You’re trespassing—again,” Lunette added, lifting her chin. She eyed Muffin as if he were committing treason as I petted him in greeting.

She didn’t ask me to leave. And that spark of mischief dancing in her eyes pulled me in with the promise that perhaps not all was lost.

“This time,” I said mildly, stepping further inside, “I agree with you.”