Page 150 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

I wasn’t sure I’d miss her.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “I’ll be there when you heal Berian.” His voice dropped low, serious beneath the softness. “You won’t be alone with them.”

“Owain, it’s—”

“Don’t.” His storm-filled eyes met mine. “Don’t tell me it’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Neither of us was safe. We both knew it.

And yet he was still here. Still standing beside me. Not out of duty, or because it would protect me. He’d simply chosen me.

The mages still waited. Berian still needed healing. Nothing beyond this closet had become simpler. But the trove of old injuries no longer governed every step I took toward sharing my happiness with another person.

Owain dismissed the conjured chair, and I straightened my dress. We stepped into the corridor hand-in-hand. It was time to put myself in front of the mages who’d already decided I belonged to them.

With him beside me, I couldn’t wait to show them just how wrong they were…and how very right I’d been to choose him anyway.

Chapter 40

Owain

Leaving Lunette at her apartment door was almost as painful as leaving her in Selmont had been.

I stood there a moment longer than I should have, hand still braced against the doorframe, straining to hear the soft sounds of movement within—water being poured, the gentle scrape of a chair. She’d let me kiss her hand in view of the extra guards I’d had posted at her door. To her, it was a sweet gesture. To me, it was yet another public claim. Each tiny act was a brick in the wall I couldn’t help but build around her, fueled by my possessive fires.

The corridor smelled of burning tallow and cold stone, the first torches just beginning to be lit with the shorter days as winter approached. The long shadows they cast danced across the guard’s faces. Those outside my door had changed over after luncheon. I noted the faces automatically, the way Reina had drilled into me since I was old enough to hold a sword. Two I recognized from the outer garrison rotation. The third made me pause.

Reina’s perpetual shadow. Guilty of aiding my aunt in whatever she was up to. His gaze flickered to mine for a fleeting second.

“Richart.”

He stepped forward immediately. “My prince.”

“Guard Lady Lunette. Stay with her until I can join her.” I kept my voice low and easy, carrying no alarm.

His eyes flicked to my door. “But my prince, my post—”

“My aunt will be safe with me,” I insisted. “Since she’s already broken into my rooms.”

Reina’s voice, sharp and clear from within the room, commanded, “Go, Richart.”

He went without a second of hesitation.

I pushed open the door to find Reina sitting in the chair nearest my hearth with her ankles crossed. She’d helped herself to the decanter on my writing table, looking entirely unapologetic about it. The fire had been stoked recently, which meant she’d been here long enough to get cold, long enough to become irritated.

Too bad. I was the best kind of busy. I had to stifle a smile.

“This is payback for bursting into my room.” She lifted her glass in a small, elegant toast.

I stared at her for a moment. Then, because there was nothing useful to say to that, I crossed to the washbasin.

“Your hair…” she observed wryly from her comfortable throne. “On top of what my spies told me about where you slept last night…”

“Reina.”

She made a small, amused sound and said nothing further.

The water was cold, which was exactly what I needed. I scrubbed my hands over my face, dragging my palms against my jaw, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes until the pressure gave me something to concentrate on besides the memory of the way she tasted, smelled, gods, the sounds Lunette had made.