Page 164 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Eyes tracked me. The visiting courtiers socialized in clusters, their conversations dropping to whispers as I passed. I’d barely made it halfway back when Lord Coryanthus called out for me.

Of all the people in this cursed castle. I stopped and turned, hands itching to summon a blade, all because he’d sent Lunette flowers. Rein it in, Owain.

“Prince Regent,” he said smoothly, falling into step beside me as if he’d been invited. His handsomeness was of the straightforward, effortless kind, with a square jaw, a broad smile, and dark-gold hair. He was an illusionist of considerable skill but an irritant of even more considerable persistence.

I was aware that the attention he’d given Lunette wasn’t a crime. I was aware that eligible men of means sought the company of beautiful women at court. I was also aware that the rational part of my mind was currently drowned out by every instinct I possessed. The mate bond was still driving me mad; it was just more subtle now that Lunette was nearby.

“Terrible business.” He shook his head, performing concern at the correct volume. “I wondered if I might reinforce my guard further…considering.”

Considering. As if he were the target. As if his current escort wasn't already crowding my halls.

In the crushing weight of the day’s chaos, his frantic worry felt like a fly to be swatted rather than a potential threat to be managed. I wanted him out of my sight as quickly as possible. “Given recent events, we’ll allow it.”

His suppressed smile was the first genuine one I’d seen since he’d entered the keep. “And how is Lady Lunette? I’ll confess the rumor mills have been rather active, saying that she may have saved His Majesty’s life.”

“She did.” I couldn’t resist the chance to commend Luna.

“Remarkable woman.” He said it with a warmth that I felt like a hand on something that belonged to me. “How is she faring?”

Mine.

The word was a visceral sensation—a tightening in my chest, a low, dangerous pull of magic that wanted to answer him in a language he couldn’t misinterpret. I mapped exactly how long it would take to crush his throat. Two seconds, perhaps three if he tried to scream. The image came with troubling ease and zero remorse.

Yep. I was definitely still irrational.

“She is well,” I said pleasantly, still trying to hide the snarl that wanted to erupt from my throat. “Thank you.”

I picked up my pace. He matched it.

“I wonder,” he continued pleasantly, “if a small gesture for her might be appropriate. Comfort in recognition of what she endured.”

I stopped walking.

“No.” The word escaped, laced with an edge. It was baffling to me that this weak man believed he was worthy of Lunette. She’d suffered far more, had overcome far more than he could ever have imagined from his life of absolute comfort. “She requires rest,” I said, each word deliberately enunciated. “Not attention.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Perhaps later, then.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” I said quietly.

The atmosphere between us became heavy, as if the air itself understood this wasn’t a suggestion.

Something calculating flickered in his eyes. “Noted.”

Had he been testing me? Fuck.

I inclined my head once in dismissal and walked away before I did to his neck exactly what I’d been daydreaming about.

The second reason I regretted the detour strolled my way wearing purple robes. Vaustin Maeron seemed determined to ruin my day.

“I’ll be brief,” Vaustin said. “I know you’ve had a trying day, but courtesy demanded I inform you directly. The Assembly has concluded its work here. Lady Lunette is no threat. We will depart soon.”

“I appreciate the courtesy,” I said, my tone clearly indicating I meant the opposite.

Benevolent gods, could this possibly be true? Maybe the Assembly was pulling back, giving themselves time to strategize how to get around the writ I’d sent out limited their powers in Larethia.

“Of course,” he said. “She is extraordinary, though. My father will be very interested to hear how capable she proved herself.”

I had heard interested in Maeron’s voice when I was fourteen years old, standing in my brother’s throne room while the Chancellor explained, with great warmth and patience, that my magic was simply too volatile to remain unsupervised. That the Assembly only wished to help. That it would only be for a time.