Page 29 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“No.” Another lie.

“That wasn’t an answer. That was a performance.” She turned to reach for a cup then paused. “Well, you’re on my bed now, so I think I deserve to know your name, at least.”

My name was on the tip of my tongue, but giving that was unwise if she wasn’t connected to anything political. I hesitated for a fraction of a breath, but it was long enough for her eyes to narrow.

“Call me Rowan.” It was common enough to be unremarkable. I just needed to remember to answer to it even when half-exhausted.

Her magic stirred at the edges of my senses, as if calling out my falsehood. But she only nodded. “Okay, Rowan.”

Her voice somehow made it feel like I’d cheapened the exchange by touching it with dishonesty. A traitorous part of me wanted to hear her say “Owain” with an irrational urgency that had no business existing yet. I brutally shut down the thought.

The angry veska outside growled, apparently not believing me either.

“Oh, be quiet,” she grumbled. A surge of magic vibrated in the air a moment before the shutters clicked closed, cutting the light in the cabin by half.

Strong command of telekinesis.

The now-familiar sound of scrambling claws climbed down the wall on the other side of the window.

“I need to grab a few things. I’ll be right back.” She swept out of the cabin, murmuring at the prickly veska.

Alone, I allowed my defenses to lower just enough to face a few unwelcome realities. She’d saved my life, but she might be an Assembly asset…though that was looking less likely the longer I stayed awake.

Worse: My shadows had reached out for her like they were being drawn in. That had never happened before.

Worse still: A part of me had wanted to reach out for her too.

Worst of all: I was utterly at her mercy. My body was still too broken to flee. And my magic was weaker than normal.

Regardless, I needed to leave this place. Needed to let Camrick know I was alive before he threw his own life away looking for me. Needed to get a missive to Gelida and report to Berian.

My mind was playing over escape scenarios when the door creaked open.

I tensed. The little demon zipped around her skirts with every step she took, its tiny claws clicking on the floorboards. “Muffin and I came to an understanding. If he attacks you, he’s out… I doubt I can do anything about the hissing though.”

Dishonorable conduct for sure. Yet, I had to admire the creature’s loyalty.

Logic snapped back into place. Get ahold of yourself, Owain. It’s like you’re looking for excuses to like everything about her. But if I were being honest with myself, I’d have realized that I already did.

She placed an armful of food on the preparation table and wandered to the hearth. There, she threw another log on the pile then reopened the shutters and cleaned her hands in the washbasin. Baking ingredients came out next.

The flour dusting her forearms. The soft thud of dough against wood. The smell of it mingling with all the other smells of home… It felt like being offered a glimpse into a life I’d never be allowed to have. A life without battles. Without political maneuvering. Without orders I didn’t want to obey.

My station meant I was mostly removed from the everyday routines of the average Larethian. This simple domesticity was surreal to me.

I cleared my throat. “Lady Mage…”

She turned to me, lilac eyes sparkling as she kneaded the dough she was working into a loaf of bread. “Let’s stick with Lunette, soldier.”

Then she smiled, and I instantly forgot everything I’d been about to say. Every time I looked at her, her beauty seemed to grow. Not in the polished way of court beauties, but untamed, unimaginably soft, and real. But I’d been without company long enough that I didn’t trust my own perception of her.

Suspicion and caution shot through me once again. If this wasn’t seduction magic—which I wasn’t sure even existed—she might be using a type of mental influence on me.

I erected my mental fortifications before my next breath then immediately felt foolish, watching her dust flour off her hands.

“Lunette,” I corrected, my voice coming out lower than I’d intended, “who do you serve? Maelric? His side of the Gelidian conflict?”

“Exactly what do you think is happening here?” Her brows drew together. She slammed the ball of dough onto the work surface with a bit more force than seemed necessary. “Before, you asked me about the Mage Assembly and today Gelida? I’ll have you know, I’m a Larethian citizen.” She didn’t sound certain about the last.