Page 142 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

I also noticed, gradually and with growing unease, that the men seated by the aisle were dipping their chins in a sort of salute as I walked by. It wasn’t for Camrick, as I’d expected, because each of them met my eyes briefly before looking away.

Reina had said my reputation as a powerful mage would spread, but the Assembly’s arrival for me had clearly taken the rumors to new heights.

The loud thumping of my heart echoed in my ears. Sweat was pooling beneath my borrowed silk by the time we reached the dais steps. I was suddenly profoundly grateful that Camrick’s arm was still under my hand, because without it, I might’ve simply stopped walking.

I approached, and the scrape of every mage’s chair as they rose in near-perfect unison cut through the hall’s noise like a blade being loosed from a scabbard. Had they practiced that? Or was it simply the result of foul men spending excessive time in tight quarters with each other?

The warriors went still and ready behind me.

The man in purple came forward first. He was younger than expected, narrow through the shoulders, with a close-trimmed beard and eyes the color of pond scum. His smile appeared stiff and unnatural up close. The look in his eyes catalogued me with too much and yet not enough interest all at once.

I shivered.

“My lady Lunette.” His voice carried all the authority his presence tried to. Except he was so small next to Owain, it was hard to be impressed. “I am Vaustin Maeron, Keeper of the Assembly’s Conclave. It is a genuine pleasure to meet you.”

Hound.

His nasal voice grated my nerves even more than his aura, which seemed to press in from all sides. He introduced the others. I heard their names, but they moved through my mind like water through open fingers, each gone as the next arrived.

A servant pulled out my chair. She judges the space, you fall with grace, went through my mind as I tried to focus on Owain on my right and Reina to my left. Camrick was situated just on the other side of Owain.

The moment I settled into my chair, I realized how much last night had changed. Facing a row of mages should’ve unsettled me, but it was easier to hold myself steady, to sit tall, with Owain’s warmth something I could reach for just inches away.

The conversation began diplomatically. Vaustin had a gift for careful pleasantries laced with just enough inspection behind them to almost go unnoticed. Reina did a fine job of keeping him tangled up in conversation. I wanted to walk over and hug her for it.

The other mages were less adept at subtlety.

“Your family—your parents were both healers, I understand?” one of the black-robed mages asked conversationally while reaching for his wine.

“No,” I said. “Only my father was.”

“And siblings? Extended family still in—forgive me, where was it you said you were from?”

I had not said. “A small village.” I smiled pleasantly, ignoring the question about my siblings. “Very small.”

I would keep my mouth shut about the clusters of Fae-blooded families spread throughout the borderlands. I knew what happened to them when the Assembly decided they were worth examining more closely. Entire families had disappeared after a visit from men in matching black robes.

“You know,” one mage confided, leaning in conspiratorially, his tone inviting a reciprocal disclosure, “my cousin has a touch of Fae blood. Such heritage is exceptionally valuable. And you have it in abundance.”

The way he examined my ears made me want to claw his eyes out. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one made uncomfortable by this comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several of the closest warriors—Richart included—flinch toward their weapons.

“How lovely for him,” I remarked, trying to convey that I preferred not to extend our chat.

Through it all, Vaustin’s eyes kept straying to me with an intensity that made me feel pinned to my chair. He wasn’t using his silencing magic on me, but his oppressive aura felt like a hand testing a door again and again to see if it would open. Every few minutes, it probed a little further.

Owain saved me from the next question. By the gods, I wanted to crawl into his lap, to feel his warmth directly. But of course, I couldn’t. All I could do was push my food around my plate and pretend to eat.

“Gentlemen.” His voice remained at its usual volume, yet the table quieted around it. He set his goblet down with a small, precise move that seemed practiced. “You didn’t travel this distance to examine her family history. You came to examine her magic.” There was a dry, deliberate undertone to his words now. “Shall we not waste each other’s time pretending otherwise?”

Vaustin had the beginnings of a scowl but smoothed his expression into something polished. “Prince Regent, we are simply—”

“You are fishing,” Reina interrupted pleasantly, “and the fish has noticed.”

“Apologies, Duchess.” Vaustin inclined his head with the grace of a man accepting a minor loss in a longer game.

The silence that followed had the edge of steel and magic.

Thibault was the first to recover. He pressed a hand briefly to his chest. “They are also here to extend their most sincere condolences to the entire kingdom for the loss of Queen Theresa.”