Page 106 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

But she was mine. My mind, bones, even my soul knew it. They all wanted to mark her in a thousand different ways publicly, yet I feared Lunette would hate me for it when she finally learned why.

Dessert came and went in a blur of sugared pears and spiced wine.

The edge never fully left the room, but its sharpness softened. Conversations shifted even further from Berian’s health to trade routes and winter stores. Relief had loosened the lords from their stiff-backed, calculating postures, and now their laughter boomed a little too heartily.

They had exactly what they wanted: Stability—or at least the perception of it. In this, the distinction between truth and fantasy became irrelevant because the outcomes were identical. The illusion of control was enough.

Little did they know that the news out of Freuxcourt would throw oil on the fire by tomorrow morning.

Thinking of Theresa made me move to end the night slightly earlier than normal. I stood, signaling the evening’s close. “My lords and ladies. Your loyalty to Larethia is noted and appreciated.”

Polite bows. Silk rustling. Chairs scraping.

Reina was immediately intercepted by two matrons from the southern reaches, their jeweled fingers reaching to check the fabric of her gown. Camrick was cornered by a cluster of men already arguing about troop rotations.

There would be more conversation before anyone actually left, but I was distracted by Lunette. She stood alone, looking bewildered at what to do for half a heartbeat. Then she turned and slipped toward the doors.

Without thinking about what it might look like, I moved to follow.

The corridor beyond the dining hall was blessedly cooler. Torchlight replaced blinding candelabras. The noise of the banquet muffled as the doors swung closed behind me.

She was halfway down the hall when I said her name. “Lunette.”

She stopped. Slowly, she turned.

The silk at her temples caught the torchlight, gold chains glinting like beams of captured moonlight. There was a faint flush high on her cheekbones. Whether from wine or fury, I wasn’t sure. Either way, it was lovely.

“Prince Owain,” she said coolly, wrenching the knife she perpetually had in my guts.

“There’s no one here,” I said quietly.

Her chin lifted, lips pursed slightly. “There are always people here.”

Not wrong. I stepped closer anyway. Just her. Just me.

There were a hundred things I should’ve said. Half of them were even true.

I’m sorry was the truest and the most useless, so I didn’t lead with it. I missed you was dangerous. I’ve barely slept since I left you in Selmont because the bond doesn’t understand why you aren’t beside me was the sort of confession that would either terrify her or, worse, draw out a tenderness from her that I would ruin with everything she still didn’t know.

“You shouldn’t have been cornered like that,” I said instead. Safe. Actionable. Cowardly. “Coryanthus pushing for a tour. If he bothers you again—”

“What?” she cut in sharply. “You’ll glare at him across another table?”

I’ll do so much more. But she didn’t need to know that, so I just shook my head.

“I am capable of taking care of myself,” she stated firmly.

“I know.”

“Do you?” She took a step toward me now, closing the space I hadn’t dared cross. “You didn’t even pretend to get to know me in there. Not a single direct word.”

“I couldn’t,” I admitted, swallowing hard.

Her brows knitted slightly, and the air between us shifted. Her earnest look invited me to explain. Too good, too understanding.

“If I had,” I said, lower now, “everyone in that room would’ve known exactly how I feel about you.”

“How you feel,” she repeated carefully. Too carefully. “So I am a dirty secret.”