Page 8 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“Little brother.” His voice carried, amplified by magic. Every syllable sounded warm to the ear, but I still felt the coldness beneath. “You ride today not as yourself, but as our kingdom’s hope.” Close now, he lowered his voice. “Try not to squander this opportunity. You’ve wasted too many already.”

My jaw ached with the effort not to bare my teeth, my hands with the struggle to contain the magic wanting to push him away. But his crown pressed an invisible weight onto the back of my neck, and I bowed my head.

Like always, I let the men see my obedience instead of the shame and anger burning in my chest. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The yard held its breath until Berian’s heavy hand landed on my shoulder in a gesture that was probably supposed to look brotherly. “Go, and make Larethia proud.”

He turned then, cloak sweeping, and strode back into the castle without another word. If Anwen decided I was a good fit, I might never return to the Tir. Would it have been too much to expect an embrace? Or did he simply expect me to fail again?

A heavy silence fell as the men averted their gazes and fidgeted in the tension left in their monarch’s wake. The troops respected Berian, but they didn’t love him, and no one moved until I did. Not the captains, not the sergeants. Every man in the yard waited, as they always had, for my word to continue preparations instead of the king’s.

Cam’s whispered hiss sliced through the quiet left behind. “He still treats you like a pawn. Acts like you didn’t deliver Darreth’s alliance to him on bended knee! And you bow as though you deserve every unkind word.”

I kept my hands busy with the nearest strap, tightening it too much as I fought against the urge to snap at him.

“It is my duty,” I said eventually. “Peace is worth more than pride.”

I had lived by that truth for so long that it felt etched into my bones.

“He wouldn’t have a kingdom without you!” Cam spat. “He sends you out to do the bleeding and smiles while he does it. And you—” His voice lowered further, harsh. “—you don’t see what’s right in front of your eyes. These men would follow you into the Wythian Sea. But you stand here, letting him insult you in front of them! You haven’t failed him once.”

My body swiveled with a sudden jerk to face my best friend. Suddenly, the air between us hummed with magic from both sides. Cam’s eyes focused on the betraying darkness eclipsing my vision. When pushed, the entirety of my eyes would blacken, making me look exactly like the demon so many thought me to be.

“I’ve only done what Larethia needs, and I will continue doing so, Camrick,” I gritted out under my breath.

“That’s the problem, Owain,” Cam said quietly, looking more downcast than combative. “That’s all you fucking do.”

The shadows in my blood strained against their leash, hungry to draw screams and pain whenever my temper flared. My anger wasn’t directed at him, but at myself. In my mind, the shadows whispered that Cam was right: Berian wasn’t worth protecting anymore.There was no need to bow. Chains could be broken, consequences be damned.

Rein it in, Wain. Unacceptable.

As long as the balance between Berian and me remained as it was, the military’s loyalty to me wouldn’t become a problem. All that seemed to matter to him was that he could tell me no and give me any order he wanted. All I cared about was keeping everyone safe.

Teeth grinding, I forced it down, willing the chaotic magic to fade as I swallowed the taste of my own blood from where I’d bitten my tongue. I’d vowed long ago that no one under my command would ever fear me, especially not the man who’d gotten me through too many dark periods with his unwavering support.

Cam opened his mouth as if to argue then shut it again, the motion tight with his own restraint. His shoulders slowly sagged as he studied me, the tension draining out of him with every breath.

His reaction was rooted in hurt for me, not anger.

“It’s not his fault,” I said weakly. I still couldn’t bring myself to blame Berian. Experience had taught him to see me as a threat. My magic had manifested early—too early for a boy born with lethal powers that were amplified by emotion.

I’d acted out after my parents died, when Berian was still new to the crown, and he still saw me as that young man, even after all these years. Too much shadow in my blood, too little light.

The last trace of Cam’s grin vanished. “Your brother is intimidated by you because he knows you’re better than he is. He’s paranoid they’ll try to give you the throne. He criticizes you because it makes him feel bigger.” He shook his head, disappointed in me—a feeling I was all too familiar with. Cam walked away before I could respond, muttering curses under his breath.

I thought of stopping him to talk it out, but we had days of riding ahead of us to do that.

Half a breath later, my aunt Reina appeared, materializing from the shadows of the castle’s eaves as if by magic—and maybe she had—just in time to avoid Berian.

Their history spanned my entire lifetime, and it wasn’t a comfortable one. Reina had come to live with my mother at the castle as a teenager. Berian, nearly of an age with her, had developed an obsession he’d never quite managed to cure himself of—even decades later. Reina, for her part, had made her feelings on the matter perfectly and repeatedly clear.

Today her long brown hair was styled into an intricate headpiece, adorned with tiny beads. She’d abandoned her usual understated way of dressing for the occasion. The dress she wore was elaborate; yards of damask fabric draped to keep her warm outdoors.

It was pretty, but I knew this was more about conveying a message. The only question was what.

“Nephew,” she said warmly. “Come, give your old aunt a hug.”

I scoffed. “Please stop pretending you’re decrepit. You haven’t even seen fifty winters yet.”