Page 123 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Servants were moving around me, asking permission to unlace my bodice, to start work on my hair. I felt like a doll being dressed up. “I thought we were pretending that I barely knew him.”

“The court needs the beginning of a love story, Lunette.” Reina said, and for the first time, there was something like apology in her gaze. She paced as she watched the servants transform me, the general surveying a battlefield of lace and jewels. “I owe you the details of what I’ve already had circulated, at the very least. You met Owain in the borderlands. You saved his life. He brought you here under his protection. Now they will see him notice you properly for the first time.”

A tender light flickered in her eyes as they met mine. “The story is not because you are not good enough as you are. Do not mistake me,” she said, drawing nearer, her tone now laced with a threat directed beyond my room’s walls. “No one will look down on you in this court while I still draw breath.”

Shame at being so transparent in my worries had already colored my cheeks pink, but hearing how much she cared had undoubtedly made them a deep red. She barely knew me, and yet she was defending me like…family.

I’d lived a life based on transactions for services rendered, but this felt different. More real. A comforting warmth bloomed within me, easing the chill of icy dread that had seized my insides moments earlier. More than just validation, her acceptance felt like a lifeline pulling me through the whirlwind of adjusting to life in the Tir.

And yet, beneath that warmth, something nagged at me. Queens in all but name did not champion peasant healers out of sheer goodwill. What did she stand to gain?

To delay, I accused, “You want me to be a walking fairytale dressed up to be palatable.”

“Yes! Owain has been a walking nightmare to his people since he was eight. Your beauty, the tales of your astonishing, life-giving magic will only serve to soften his reputation in the best way.”

I tried to ignore the fact that I was so plainly being used politically. It was for my benefit, after all.

Still, I pressed, “Does Owain even know?”

“Not yet.” A self-satisfied grin spread across Reina’s face. “But I guarantee he will accept without question—unlike yourself.”

The rebuke was almost gentle, but it stung more sharply than any shout. I folded my arms around myself.

“Why the rush to get me ready? Why all this?” I gestured to the avalanche of silk and gold threatening to swallow my chamber whole.

“You will attend the luncheon with the warriors,” Reina replied. “It is the perfect opportunity for many eyes to see how he looks at you.”

I’d planned on eating in my room, not being seen by the public.

“What does that mean in action?” I asked, clinging to practicality.

“It means you will sit on the dais next to Owain and put on a show of affection and allegiance. Nothing will be announced at this meal. This is just the warmup.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

My pulse leaped traitorously as nervousness flickered through me. Still, underneath it, a shameful but bright thrill stirred. To stand beside him openly. To be with him, even falsely, was exactly what I wanted.

But wanting him was something that had already proven it could hurt me. Fury was so much safer than the truth: I was terrified.

Owain had become someone I could lose. Someone who could reject me and hurt me if they changed their mind. I had built my careful, solitary life on distance and self-sufficiency, but those ideals had already started to break down long before I arrived in the Tir.

I’d been calling what I felt toward him anger because anger was easier to hold, and I’d had a lot of practice at it. But fear slipped through your fingers like water. Fear had already kept me from noticing the way my heart had started to rearrange itself around a prince.

Reina’s eyes trailed back to the diadem the servant had placed on the table. She said, “Owain is accustomed to thinking on his feet. This surprise will not trip him up in the slightest. I know you’re angry with him, but do not forget this is for you, young lady.”

“Young?” I snapped before I could stop myself. “I’m older than your nephew.”

“Well, good for you.” And, by the gods, she sounded sincere. Her smile turned wicked, like she was hiding a secret of her own.

Heat flooded my face. I refused to untangle the implications of that comment, refused to consider Owain in any context that involved need.

Reina stepped closer. The look she gave me then was less about playful banter and more of a careful evaluation. It felt like a test, assessing my ability to endure what lay in store.

The diadem glinted between us.

“So,” she asked at last, her voice losing its edge. “Will you do it?”

The room held its breath. Servants paused mid-fold. Silk whispered in the stillness.