Page 56 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“If he doesn’t,” came Nisien’s voice, dry and edged with irritation, “I might for breaking another bloody door.”

The woman snapped with weary exasperation, “Enough!”

As Emrys stepped forward, Rowan’s shadows peeled back in measured increments—just enough for me to see him clearly for the first time. Emrys filled the threshold in a full suit of armor like Rowan’s, with a blood-red and gold cape hanging across his back.

As tall as Rowan, he had a similar build. He removed his helm to reveal disheveled black hair framing a scarred face. It looked like someone had taken a blade to his lips, eyes, and forehead—and he’d simply refused to die. And his eyes…his frigid blue eyes burned with so much magic I nearly lost my breath.

The remnants of the door crunched under his boot as he crossed deeper into the cabin. Even with Rowan standing more relaxed next to me, something about this man, about his magic, made me tense up. I couldn’t shake the feeling of claws dragging across my skin as I looked at him.

Emrys took in the room. The shadows. Rowan standing exactly between him and me, holding a conjured sword. And then, finally, his gaze caught on me—my half-unlaced bodice, my tangled hair, the bedsheets still twisted around my legs. Rowan shifted half a step, just enough to block the worst from his view.

Of all moments to be barged in on, it had to be this one.

The blue flames in Emrys’s eyes immediately dimmed. He turned away abruptly. “My apologies,” he said, his voice turning almost sincere. “I expected enemies, not…”

Rowan’s stance eased but didn’t soften.

Before I could decide whether to be insulted, frightened, or mortified, the second man stepped into view, fair-haired where Emrys was dark, but the same build, the same bones. Too similar not to be family. His expression made it clear he was thoroughly enjoying what he’d walked in on. My cheeks went impossibly redder.

The same woman’s voice came rushing closer. “Emrys? Nisien? Owain’s okay?”

Owain? Another familiar name.

“Very,” Nisien replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Light flooded back into the room as Rowan’s shadows disappeared all at once. He glanced back at me, where I was still partially obscured from their view by his body. A tilt of his chin asked me to join him by his side.

As I moved forward, the female speaker stepped into the cabin in a flurry of silk and warm furs. Emrys turned toward her with a softened expression, though his eyes flicked back to me, landing on my ears in a moment of hesitation that made my stomach twist. Did he think I was a threat?

Her bright blue dress shone against the dim room. Her clothes were exquisite, the kind I’d only ever seen on nobles when I’d visited other villages on festival days. She was trim, features delicate, with blonde hair pinned into an intricate braid. A small swell beneath her bodice marked a pregnancy.

She stopped short. Her gaze swept from Rowan to me in a single, assessing glance then her bright green eyes landed on me. “Hello.” Her voice was gentle. “I’m Isca.”

Beside her, Emrys bristled. “Queen Isca,” he corrected, in a way that made me think it was a habitual snarl.

Queen.

Her smile tightened. “There’s no need for that among friends.” Her voice didn’t waver.

Next to me, Rowan’s face contorted into a grimace, his head shaking in disbelief as if he too couldn’t fathom how his day had come to this. But my heart was already sinking through the floorboards.

Rowan had called the intruder Emrys earlier. With that blue magic glowing in his eyes…his armor…

Dear gods. The cursed King of Darreth stood in my cabin. And beside him—the queen and the golden prince.

My breath came in short, ragged pulls I fought to hide. I put one hand over my diaphragm, hoping the steady pressure would help my breathing calm. The confusion had moved past my mind and settled deep in my gut.

Isca turned to Rowan, her friendly demeanor giving way to worry for me. “Owain, who is this?”

My lungs simply forgot how to work. I had known he wasn’t truly Rowan but hearing another name turned in his direction was something else…

The room lurched. I looked back at Rowan—Owain?—but his face was unreadable, shadows traveling across his skin like agitated vipers.

“Lady Lunette,” he said eventually, not looking at me.

Lady?

The names were already a barrage, but a title that didn’t belong to me on top of them felt like the floor dropping out a second time.