Page 36 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

The stew was simple, potatoes softened to velvet, thickened with bacon, but it tasted better than any dish I’d eaten in the castle. And the bread… By the forgotten gods, the bread was delicious. It warmed something far deeper than my stomach—something hollow and snarling in me that hadn’t ever been fed.

Lunette handed more of it to me without looking up, as if this quiet domesticity were common for us. As if we were sharing an evening, not recovering from me nearly dying on her floor.

There were no servants, no stiff doublets to wear, no heavy golden torc, no standing on formality. My mind had already wandered into dangerous territory multiple times because the quiet shared meal felt dangerously intimate.

“Breakfast will require some…creativity,” she said, a faint grimace on her face.

Cursed gods, is she low on food? I must’ve been eating into her winter stores.

My mind seized on the problem with the ruthless certainty of instinct—provide and protect. She could trade some of my armor. There had to be deer in the forest nearby. I could hunt if I hid and relied entirely on magic. I could—

Her serious expression shifted into a cheeky grin. Then she stuck her tongue out at me. “Since you ate an entire loaf of bread.”

A wave of relief washed over me as I took a deep breath. By the gods, I’d never wanted to reach out and kiss someone as much as I did in that moment. I liked her teasing, her subtle humor.

Lunette returned to eating, and I studied her in the flickering firelight. I’d intended a quick look, yet my eyes remained fixed against my better judgment. Shadows stirred beneath my skin, slow and attentive, as if they too were mapping the freckles that dusted her cheekbones, the small, pale scar that curved along her chin, the way her hair turned copper in the hearth light.

She suddenly cleared her throat, eyebrows raised, tilting her head slightly. I realized with dawning horror that she’d been speaking. And I’d heard none of it because I’d been staring at her face like a starving man.

Charming, Owain.

Would she look at me like that if she knew who I truly was? This small spark between us was nothing; it was a single candle-flame compared to the bonfire I was tired of pretending I didn’t want.

Yet I’d already thrown enough poison into the flame with my lies to choke us both.

“I— Apologies.” I straightened up at once. “Could you repeat that?”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a brief, amused smile. She’d asked if I wanted another bowl. My answer was an enthusiastic yes.

I shifted the conversation to salvage what little was left of my dignity. “Is there any way to send correspondence from here? I need to get word to a friend.”

She hesitated then said, “We don’t have couriers anymore.”

“What? Why?” I couldn’t keep the incredulity out of my voice.

“The wards,” she said. As if that explained everything. “The village elders demanded that the boundaries be completely sealed with the increase in raiding these past few years. After seeing the devastation in nearby villages, and our last courier dying, I agreed to do it.”

Like a predator going still when something more powerful stalked by, my shadows quieted. I stared at her. Openly stared. “You ward the village?”

“The stones have kept Gelidian raiders out for generations.” She shrugged, as if discussing harvesting cabbages, not intricate, very rare magic. “I’m not as strong as my mother was. All ours does is make anyone not well acquainted with the village think they’re going the wrong way.”

My jaw very well might’ve hit the table. She was clearly the highest level of grand magus of healing. And on top of that, she was telling me she was a competent ward weaver? Arcanist, I would’ve bet my crown on it. But even thinking that title felt dangerous with the Assembly on my heels.

A new spark ignited within me—curiosity, definitely, but also awe. Lunette spoke of her abilities as though they were incidental. She didn’t know how powerful she was…

“And you,” I ventured, “you’re…part Fae?”

She kept her face perfectly straight. “No. Part veska.”

I did a double take.

She laughed. Light, bright, and unrestrained, the sound vibrated through me, cracking the frozen shell that had encased parts of me for far too long. A silly, involuntary grin spread across my face.

My gullibility was a direct result of the social distance created by my rank. Camrick and Reina were the only ones who ever shared a joke with me.

Reina would probably like Lunette quite a lot.

“I’m part Fae too,” I said, the decision settling into place with surprising ease. “Shadow Fae.”