Page 47 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

A perfectly balanced obsidian blade formed in my grip. A split second after, I felt it. As potent and swift as any battlemage, Lunette unleashed the rapid surge of dark energy at the first man.

His hand immediately dropped from her wrist, and he looked at her with terror-stricken horror. But that wasn’t all. That same hand bent, swinging once, twice, like a pendulum hanging loosely within his sleeve. His fingers didn’t move. She’d ripped apart the architecture of it from the inside.

What is this?

The answer tried to surface, and I shoved it down with both hands. She was safe. That was what mattered. Everything else could wait.

I swung. The shadows were silent as they cut the air, shearing cleanly through his mail, flesh, and bone.

I could’ve disarmed him, but I chose not to. Because the darkest part of me reveled in the justice of the severed hand that had dared touch her hitting the ground with a soft thud. Blood sprayed, and he staggered backward, clutching the stump with an expression of horror on his face.

“Rowan!” Lunette gasped, alerting me to the second mercenary lunging at me with a short sword.

I almost got hit. I parried in time, but the impact sent a shock of pain through my injured side, leaving me gasping for air. My movements lacked their usual precision. I gritted my teeth and focused on controlling my magic.

I could let it run wild, turn the road black with shadows and red with blood like I had during the attack on the caravan. But given the state of my body—even with Luna’s mending—I didn’t know if I’d remain conscious after. That would leave her vulnerable.

More importantly, I didn’t want her to see me like that.

I’d been right about the second mercenary’s speed. He saw the opening and took a swing at me.

Swing away.

There was only one ending to this, because he’d made the fatal mistake of threatening her. I wanted him to feel pain for that, to suffer, but that damned line from the children’s book taunted me.

So I dropped beneath the swing, ignoring the hollow feeling traveling up my arm as a second shadow-knife solidified in my other hand. This one was shorter, curved like the ones they carry in Wynth. My upward thrust caught him across the inner thigh, slicing through the large artery buried there.

The trees echoed with the sound of his scream as blood poured down his leathers. He’d bleed out in less than five minutes. It would give him time for prayers, if nothing else.

Better than he deserves.

My restraint wasn’t flawless. I kicked his body to the ground, feeling the blood pour down my side from where I’d ripped Lunette’s careful stitches. I turned to finish his friend. He was still clutching his stump, Lunette standing over him like she was considering healing him.

She was too good. Had too much compassion.

And I had enough darkness for both of us.

She glanced up at the sound of my approach and immediately backed away—not scared, thank the gods. She lifted her chin and fixed a surprisingly steady gaze on me. There wasn’t a scrap of judgment there. Only…understanding. The unexpectedness of it meant my feet kept moving forward without hesitation.

I drove the mercenary backward at the tip of my blade until his spine hit the nearest oak. I pinned him there, blade pressed under his jaw, drawing a trickle of blood. The coppery tang invaded my nostrils, making the feral thing inside me scream for more.

So I pressed harder, parting skin. But before my next breath, the words flashed before my eyes: To guard without cruelty.

Was cruelty defined by action or intention?

It didn’t seem to matter to me when it came to protecting Lunette.

I wanted him to bleed. Wanted him afraid. Really, I wanted to chop his fucking head off.

“Touch her again,” I said, voice softened by the revelation, “and you won’t see another sunrise. Who sent you?”

He coughed. Gurgled something about orders, about a bounty, and a missing noble the Mage Assembly wanted back in their care.

Back in their care?

My evocation magic wasn’t as strong as my conjuration powers, but I could feel flames rising beneath my skin from my restraint fraying to tatters.

The fucking Assembly had attacked my caravan to keep me from reaching Tir Gelida. To keep Larethia from forming a marriage alliance with their princess. To stop peace. Now they were sending mercenaries to put me in chains?