Page 122 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Lunette

I was sitting in my room, listening to the thunder rumble as I wrote, then rewrote a note of rejection to Lord Coryanthus. But I couldn't find the right words; the ink kept pooling on the parchment as my mind drifted. The worry of Thibault seeing my ears had consumed my every waking moment since that morning, rendering the marriage politics of the court entirely meaningless.

There was a knock at the door. Before I could as much as say, “Come in!” Reina burst through the doors. Once again, she was followed by a procession of servants bent beneath the weight of even more carved wooden chests.

Gods below, did she plan on filling my room daily?

The lids were already thrown back before I could rise fully from the chair. Bolts of silk, pearls, and velvet spilled like jewel-toned rivers over the gilt and velvet furnishings.

My stomach sank. One slip of silk had changed everything. Now, apparently, she thought more silk would help fix it. These dresses were even fancier than the ones she’d brought in before.

“We need to move quickly,” Reina said briskly, directing a pair of footmen to set a particularly ornate chest at the foot of my bed next to the existing one. She fixed her dark, assessing eyes on me and flashed her teeth. Part of me was still surprised they weren’t fangs. “Theresa hasn’t even been buried yet, but the court will focus solely on the vacant seat next to Berian’s throne. They will look at you and decide you fit there nicely. We must adapt.”

Berian. My mind snagged on the word and wouldn’t let go.

“Fit nicely?” I sputtered, the words rough as they left my throat. I had to bite my lip to keep from shrieking them. For a moment, all I could hear was the loud thumping of my heart in my ears.

“I have no intention of allowing anyone to attach you to Berian before you have the chance to decide what you want for yourself,” she countered, softer but no less resolute, “But linking you to the royal family will shield you from the Assembly in ways nothing else could. This is our last option to protect you that doesn’t involve direct confrontation, Lunette.”

I thought of the way Berian had spoken to Reina. The idea of being attached to him, even if only in rumors, turned my stomach. But then Thibault’s vacant stare resurfaced in my memory—his threat was undeniable.

“When someone is as powerful as you, the Assembly doesn’t sit back and admire,” Reina continued, heedless of my spiral. “In their eyes, you can only be one of two things: an asset or a threat. But as the next best thing to a princess or queen, they can’t touch you openly.”

I swallowed. It was too horrible to even contemplate what they’d do with me if they got me.

The same thing they’ve done to hundreds, if not thousands, of other women.

If it kept me alive, I could endure a betrothal in name alone. I would simply have to endure. Just like I always had.

“You said you have no intention of allowing them to attach me to Berian, but your answer is to dress me up, tie ribbons on me like a present, and send me to him anyway?”

It was already too late to stop this from happening. The servants were already getting my armor of silk ready, moving around us in careful silence, laying out gowns in graduated splendor: deep forest green embroidered in gold thread; midnight blue studded with seed pearls; a light blue one that shimmered like an alpine lake.

“No.” Her voice cracked through the room like a whip. Then she exhaled, visibly reining herself in. “My answer is Owain.”

My heart stopped beating then jolted back to life, pounding against my ribs. By all the magic… I felt like I’d just dodged an arrow. I spluttered, then managed to say, “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“We need the court to see the possibility of you and Owain before they start planning a different future for you.” Reina’s voice cut through the rustle of fabric. “A woman who has caught the Prince Regent’s eye is no longer convenient to place next to another man.” Her eyes flashed. “And anyone who forgets that will learn why my family has survived this long.”

It sounded like a vow. Apparently, Muffin agreed, because he squeezed through the hole leading to the balcony, hissing angrily. He paused on the highest perch to watch the chaos of fabric and beauty supplies where it was safe.

Surely, even if the Assembly planned on stealing me away, they’d allow me to finish healing the king first. So we had to have a few days at least. Yet there was something else about Reina’s motivations I didn’t understand yet. Figuring that out would have me cooperating, if nothing else.

“The Assembly likely already has a contingent heading this way. So choose, Lady Lunette: pretend to be the exotic match, a source of mystique for the royal line…or becoming the Assembly’s tool against us.”

The stubborn part of me insisted there had to be a third path. There was always another way through the forest if one looked hard enough. But the look in Reina’s eyes—pleading and warning in equal measure—told me she’d searched for that path and found only brambles.

A young maid approached with a silken pillow. Resting upon it was a thin golden diadem, delicate as sunlight caught in spiderweb silk.

“Will you take it?” Reina asked quietly.

I stared at the circlet. A symbol of what she wanted everyone to think of me. Wry amusement threaded through my dread. Fate had chosen for me a month ago, the moment I’d pulled a dying stranger over my threshold.

Instead of accepting, I delayed again, asking, “Was this Owain’s idea?”

“No,” she said at once. “Mine. His immediate thought was to execute anyone spreading rumors of your Fae heritage. He wisely settled on throwing them in the dungeon instead.”

I brought trembling fingers to my lips to hide a startled gasp. That was completely out of character for him. I knew gaining Assembly attention was serious, but the severity of the situation hadn’t sunk in until that moment.