Page 127 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

As we made our way deeper into the Tir, the air thickened with smoke from a thousand different hearths. But that couldn’t stifle the subtle saltiness of the eastern sea carried in on the breeze. I imagined I could almost see the ocean on the horizon. Maybe one day I would.

Narrow streets twisted between stone and timber houses with clay-tiled roofs. Every open area was packed with market stalls or displays. A few colorful awnings were dyed using the rich purple hues of leftover grape skins from the recent harvest; the rest were more subdued shades of rust and ochre to match the tile roofs.

City life was more, and yet also less, organized than I’d expected. People pressed shoulder to shoulder—fishmongers, farmers, mothers with babes bound to their chests, boys darting between carts and groups traveling together. A few furtive, watchful glances were sent my way at the outset, only to be expected when traveling with an armed contingent.

But then, like a stone dropped in water, the awareness spread outward. Whispers followed us as our horses walked down the city streets. It didn’t take long for anxiety to rise victorious from the second battle for my emotions.

This display felt different than it had at the warrior’s luncheon. These people were mostly peasants—people just like me. I pulled the hood forward until it swallowed my face too, grateful for its thickness. My clothes felt like paper against so many eyes, as though they could pierce through wool and fur, flesh and bone, to the reserve of magic thrumming beneath my skin.

Yet the few whispers I heard were full of awe, not scorn.

Beside me, Reina rode as though she’d long ago grown accustomed to being watched. Though after a while, I noticed that her eyes never settled on the people who were looking at her. They moved instead over rooftops and doorways, down alleys, across the faces of those who weren’t watching.

She was cataloguing everything the way a person did when they’d learned that danger rarely announces itself. I couldn’t help but wonder what it had cost her to learn that. Much of her softness, at the very least.

Eventually, at her curt command, the column slowed and halted before a narrow stone building wedged between a baker’s shop and a seller of imported cloth. Above the door hung a carved wooden sign gilded in freshly painted gold leaf that read Tir Jewelers: Finest in Larethia.

Four armed guards stood outside, hands resting lightly on their sword pommels. But seeing the green and gold of the royal household, they quickly relaxed.

This time, Reina conjured a set of stairs for me to dismount. Grateful, I followed her inside, servants trailing us like ghosts. It seemed excessive to have so many, but I suspected some were actually covert bodyguards.

The shop’s interior was dim but rich, lit by beeswax candles that pooled golden light across polished wood. Heavy trunks, carved with intricate patterns, were open atop tables and displaying various treasures: ropes of pearls, brooches shaped like clusters of grapes, chains of gold so fine they seemed spun from sunlight itself.

The shopkeeper behind the counter snapped her head up the instant Reina crossed the threshold. Without hesitation, she dismissed the lone customer in the store. No apology softened her tone; no explanation was offered. The shopper gathered her things and fled.

Was this the power of the royal family or just Reina? The door closed behind us, dimming the noise of the Tir to a distant murmur.

Reina inclined her head. “Good afternoon, Mireille.”

Mireille, the jeweler, was a willowy woman whose iron-gray hair was meticulously coiled at the nape of her neck. Her gown was a deep indigo that was simple in style, yet the fabric hinted at wealth.

The moment her eyes met mine, I was immediately pulled in by their sharp, deeply assessing focus. My magic brushed hers and found a strong, steady flow, not a weak, fleeting spark. She was a full mage.

The moment broke when my ears popped.

The ward of silence Reina cast wrapped around us, further muting our surroundings and making the faint street noise disappear completely.

“We’re here to shop for Lady Lunette,” Reina said smoothly. “But more importantly, for this.”

She reached into a hidden pocket within her skirts and withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle. Even before she extended it across the counter, a prickle of warning ran down my spine.

Mireille’s fingers darted out. Awe threading her voice, she asked, “Did you bring me something special, Duchess?”

“You’ll certainly think so, but have a care with it,” Reina warned softly.

The final fold of cloth fell away, revealing the ring Owain had taken from the mercenary. Even from across the counter, I could feel the hum of the spellwork woven into it.

My feet shuffled restlessly.

Mireille’s gaze shifted back to me then. “So,” she said, lips curving, “this is the lady everyone’s speaking of.”

Everyone?

I’d scarcely been in the Tir for days, and I’d left the castle only now, cloaked and guarded. How could word have already spread beyond its walls?

Neatly redirecting her attention back to the ring, Reina said quietly, “Our theory is that it detects Fae blood.”

Mireille hesitated only a fraction of a second before sliding the heavy ring onto her finger. She sucked in a breath, and her wrist strained to the right as though an invisible thread bound it to me. “Pulling strongly toward the lady and you, Reina.”