Page 92 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

The glow of the magelight cast shadows on Reina’s face as she peered at him with mild rebuke. She answered me, simply and with all the confidence of someone who could make anything she wanted to happen, happen. “Because that’s what you are.”

“Okay…” I agreed quietly. With saving a monarch already at the top of my agenda, arguing that I was still a peasant was yet another battle I felt compelled to drop…for now.

We walked for what felt like forever, giving me time to think about the situation I was walking into. I mulled asking over and over in my head then landed on the fact that I had nothing to lose. These people needed me. “Am I a secret? Or an embarrassment?”

Given my life thus far, either felt plausible.

Reina stopped in her tracks, making Richart nearly jump to avoid colliding with her. She pivoted neatly, locking her gaze directly with mine, purple eyes blazing with the light of her magic.

“You aren’t a lady because we’re worried about associating with someone born into a lower class. You are a lady because our world places a premium on strength and worth.” She leaned closer, showing the same fierce concentration her nephew had. “You are a secret because you are incredibly valuable. We have enemies inside and outside the keep. Some might try to harm or use you against us.”

Definitely Nocthel.

I sucked in a breath, a surge of anger and hurt swelling in my chest at the implicit accusation. “I would never!”

With a slight tilt of her head and a thoughtful frown on her face, Reina considered me, then said, “No. It doesn’t seem like you would by choice, but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to protect you. Your presence will be discovered. I give it two days at most. But by then, if what Owain said is true, Berian might be in better shape.”

We were all quiet after that. Eventually, the floor sloped gently upward. The air grew warmer and drier, carrying the first scents of life.

Ahead, Reina threw the magelight into the air, somehow suspending it there. Its glow caught on another iron ladder bolted into the stone wall. Hanging next to it was a rope.

“This leads directly into the keep,” Reina said, stopping at its base.

Richart stepped forward without hesitation, setting down the trunk to grab the rope. He tied it around the trunk then gave it a sharp tug. It drifted into the air without delay.

Reina turned to me. “You’re first.”

I swallowed. This was an even higher climb than the descent had been. But I nodded because that seemed to be my role now, and stepped forward, handing Muffin’s cage to Richart. My hands wrapped around cold iron, and my muscles protested as I hauled myself up.

Each rung brought me closer to whatever waited at the top. I focused on my hands. One grip at a time. I watched as the trunk disappeared into the tunnel of light above.

Before I was even halfway up, the rope dropped again, and Muffin’s cage was tied to it next. My little veska scurried about in the cage, looking more excited than frightened as he rose beside me. Still, my stomach sank with worry, acutely aware of how far down the stone floor was below us.

A masculine voice drifted from above. Not Owain’s voice. I was unsure whether to feel relieved or sad about that. “Any of us could slow you down with telekinesis long enough to catch you, so don't worry, Lady Lunette.”

Comforting in theory. Less comforting while suspended over a cavern.

Muffin disappeared into the light above with a squeak. When my head finally cleared the lip of the opening, I sucked in a breath as a hand reached out and closed around my forearm. I scrambled up the last rung and stumbled forward, only to be steadied by that same hand shifting to my elbow.

It was the same broad-framed man from the clearing the day Owain had left me. He was tall, though not as tall as Owain, with dark, short-cropped hair. His face held an easy confidence that would’ve been smug on anyone else. On him, it was disarming. Warm hazel eyes crinkled faintly at the corners as he smiled down at me.

I found myself in a bright room with the pale beige stone I would forever associate with Tir Larethia. The confined space didn’t have a window. If anything, it looked like a closet, lit only by sconces on the walls.

He quickly released my arm and stepped back, giving me space with a courtesy that felt deliberate. “General Camrick Allard,” he said, dipping into a low bow. “At your service, Lady Lunette.”

The title explained his confidence and his presence. The aura he radiated felt a bit unruly, like it hadn’t settled into just one type of magic. He was a mage, a powerful one.

I managed a nod that was hopefully dignified. “You seem awfully young to be a general,” I blurted, because apparently my mind didn’t have the energy for subtlety. His relaxed demeanor and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes reminded me of Prince Nisien. The kind of man who could disarm you with a smile while quietly cataloging every weakness in the room.

Camrick’s smile softened as he took me in. “I killed the last guy with the job so they gave it to me as punishment.”

And just like Nisien, I could already tell he was going to be a special type of insufferable that you hated to love. Owain had clearly assembled his inner circle from a very specific type of person—those who shone brightly even in the bleakest times.

My smile was tight. “Given how I found myself in the Tir, I believe you, General Allard.”

“Just Camrick. No titles,” he said.

Reina suddenly reappeared, brushing dust from her skirts as she straightened, followed quickly by Richart.