Page 14 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

As my head hit the pillow, I heard the scratching of Muffin’s claws on the floorboards. His small form settled beside me, warm and alive and utterly unafraid.

He gave back what I offered without conditions. I didn’t have to prove my worth to him. I just wished he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Chapter 6

Owain

Russet and gold leaves clung stubbornly to the branches overhead as we rode through the foothills. The gray sky was merciless, promising biting winds and a nasty storm by nightfall. It would be the sort of weather that held no illusion of softness. A challenge for even the most seasoned warriors.

We traveled in a long line of horses and men through the mountainous borderlands between Larethia and Gelida. The road narrowed as broadleaves turned to evergreens, their shadows long and watchful in the weak light through the dense canopy.

Normally, I would’ve roamed up and down the length of the procession, finding one man after another to chat with, hoping to distract him from the slog of travel, to raise his spirits. Yet I simply couldn’t find it within myself to be the charming prince they expected.

Still, I couldn’t help but listen.

“First time riding with Prince Shadowborn?” a captain muttered to the same green recruit I’d talked to that morning. “Stay close if fighting starts. That’s an order. You have his back, he’ll have yours. I’ve seen him turn arrows before they can land.”

I wished I could live up to their high opinion of me. Some days the gap between who they believed I was and what I knew myself to be felt wide enough to swallow a man whole.

Cresting a ridge, our horses shifted uneasily, ears flicking at the faint hiss of wind through the needles. We should’ve been setting up camp in the pass by now, instead of still struggling with the rocky summits along the ascent. We were already several hours behind schedule. One wagon wheel had snapped, and two horses were already limping at the end of the line after struggling through the muddy roads on downslope sections.

My instincts demanded we wait until we found some defensible ridge to make camp for the night—this was the most dangerous section of the borderlands—except my men were exhausted. And with another storm breathing down my neck, I was certain I’d chosen poorly in delaying.

“You’ve got that face again,” Cam said, his elemental aura prickling static along my skin. He must’ve been as nervous as I was to have his power so close to the surface—ready for action.

I kept scanning the tree line. “Which face?”

“The one that says you’re about to kill someone.” He adjusted his reins with a deliberately lazy flick of his hand, prodding as always.

Killing someone might be more enjoyable than this.

I stuffed that thought down. “I just…”

Camrick was the only person I’d truly confided in since I was a boy. Where I was weighed down, he was light as air. When I was brooding, he could always break me out of it with his recklessness. But he wasn’t my second-in-command because he was my best friend. He was Larethia’s general because he was incredibly intelligent, efficient, and practical—one of the most disciplined men I knew.

“Somehow, I know this isn’t going to work out.” I flexed my fingers as a tendril of darkness curled outward from my palm, tasting the air like a living thing. “And it’s not because I’m trying to sabotage it. It just doesn’t feel right.”

The forest didn’t feel right either—the birds had gone silent, and even the wind seemed to skirt the road. I listened to the shift of branches, the soft clink of armor, and searched for any pulse of magic in the air that would warn me before danger struck. But I felt none of those things. Instead, a gentle, warm hum, like walking into a patch of sunlight on a frosty day, brushed the edge of my senses.

At first, my restless shadows stilled. But then their interest piqued, making them rise to the surface of my skin. I halted my stallion mid-step.

Cam glanced over. “What now?”

I didn’t answer. I was too busy trying to understand what was happening myself. The internal war I fought had never made me feel like this—only restrained. Could it be an enemy trying to deceive my senses?

But there it was again, barely a whisper of a sensation.

It was the same strange resonance I’d felt once before, when I’d least expected softness, except this time it felt less like shared pain. This was…something else. Something almost personal for how perfectly it fit against the shadows roiling inside me.

If it were enemy sorcery, they’d already tipped their hand. Though, surely, they would’ve attacked by now.

My heart kicked hard against my ribs. For a fleeting moment, I imagined I saw a flash of fabric and red hair weaving through the trees on the ridgeline far above our convoy. But the shape disappeared when I blinked. I returned my horse to a walk, sidling up beside Cam. “I don’t know…”

Whatever it had been, it wasn’t the Assembly. The magic had been too free and unpretentious, not rigid and cold enough to be of their ilk. Whatever had touched me from the ridge had been strong, but it had warmth in it.

Show yourself, I thought, sending out my sixth sense in a quiet sweep.

This time, something answered. It felt as if a palm pressed over my heart, spreading warmth and comfort through the contact, stilling my shadows completely. Stunned by the unfamiliar sensation, I didn’t as much as breathe, because the reckless, desperately hopeful part of me worried that if I did, it might vanish.