Page 151 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Cursed gods, Owain, you cannot think about that now.

When I straightened and reached for the towel, I caught Reina watching me in the polished surface of the mirror above the basin. One brow had climbed her forehead with a patient skepticism that suggested she was, despite everything, not entirely shocked and not at all judgmental.

I said nothing.

She said nothing.

I dried my face and turned around, refusing to blush.

Reina pointed one bejeweled finger at me. “Even though I’m quite cross that you didn’t tell me about this review of ‘foreign magical institutions,’ Owain…I’m proud. It was exactly the right move.”

It was my turn to raise one brow. “But that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

“Camrick should be here shortly,” she said evasively, and the pleasant edge was gone from her voice entirely. “He needs to hear about our findings.”

I looked at her more carefully. Her habitual composure was there, but something was straining it. “Have your spies been working on the Assembly conclave already?”

“What I have to share with you is from before they arrived.” Her mouth curved, brief and humorless. “It is rather ominous.”

The unease that had been quiet since my lips touched Lunette’s roused itself, shook off the warmth, and sat up straight.

“Come, sit with me before Camrick arrives,” she said. The chairs were angled toward the hearth. Its steady flames cast a warm glow across their leather cushions. Perfect for a conversation it seemed neither of us would enjoy.

I settled into the opposite chair, and my body felt good. My magic had quieted down like a sated creature, full of the contentment of spending time with its mate. But my mind wouldn’t stop circling the danger we were in.

Vaustin was here to build a case so he could take Luna. If he got his hands on her…

My Nocthel instincts flared at the mere thought, sending a shiver of anticipatory violence down my spine. I scratched my beard and looked away from Reina to cover it. That man had brought too much suffering to the world without having to pay for it just because of who his father was and what he could do. Having that monster under my roof was intolerable. I hated being my brother’s executioner, but Vaustin’s death would be one I’d be happy to deliver.

If only I could do it now, because I had no legal grounds other than a flimsy oath of citizenship and her duty to the king to keep Lunette from him. Not yet.

I needed her to be my wife.

The thought was a familiar echo of its dozen previous appearances since her arrival at the Tir, emerging as an instinctual, irrational urge, instead of something useful like a plan. Even before Camrick had named us mates, a piece of me had already decided that I needed her. Now I was simply waiting for her to see it too.

Reina set down her goblet and folded her hands in her lap. “Seeing how you’re fixated on that fire, nephew, I believe a direct approach would be best.”

“You’re always direct,” I said.

She looked at me steadily. “Owain.”

The quality of my name in her mouth stopped me cold. It had something in it I’d heard only once before—on the night she’d sat across from me and explained in a perfectly level voice that my mother would not survive the winter.

“First, an easier truth to swallow.” Reina took another sip of her wine and sighed heavily while placing it back down. “When you were born, you had pointed ears.”

I shot up from my chair. My hand went to the shell of my ear before I could stop it. My fingers found the same unremarkable curve I’d touched a thousand times without thought. I barely contained the shout of surprise. “What?”

The single word felt too insignificant to address the magnitude of what she’d just shared. I looked down at my hands as if they might confirm or deny it.

“They clipped your ears like a bloody dog.” She didn’t look at me, only stared at the flames. “A wizened healer from Wynth was brought in to make them look human. He’s long dead now. Neither Amara nor Gruffid wanted it, but…they thought it would hurt you more to leave them that way.”

The body I’d lived in my entire life had apparently been changed before I was old enough to know my own name. I’m supposed to look like Lunette.

Cursed gods, if that was the simple truth... “Gods below, Reina, what’s the harsher truth?”

“What? You’re not going to shout at me for not preventing it?” she asked.

“You were a teenager.” I shrugged, retaking my seat. “And my parents were probably right.”