Page 162 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Fuck. Why did doing the right thing have to be politically inconvenient? He was guilty. There was no doubt about that. Yet, I couldn’t completely blame him when I knew I’d make the same choice he had.

And if he stayed here, I’d be forced to execute him publicly.

I kept my voice barely a whisper, directed at the man whose body I’d just broken. “You’ve attacked the very people who were attempting to protect everyone—including your daughter—from the Assembly’s abuses.” I let that linger. “You likely won’t live to see the end of this. But I’m not a petty man. If she’s alive when we take them down, she will be taken care of.”

Gods below. He started crying.

“Keep him alive and protected,” I said to Camrick and Reina. “I want no one tied to the Assembly down here. Since he seems to know so much about his curse, we’ll send him to the Beast of Darreth.”

I’d send him along with the letter I planned on writing to Emrys. Ahead of them, I’d send magical correspondence to Isca. She’d need to break the news to him, or we’d be at risk of him riding to Caervorn and razing the Assembly’s stronghold to the ground—no matter who was still inside.

I turned back to the assassin, who’d gone white at the title. “If you talk enough, his wife might let you live.”

I walked out. The dungeon door closed behind me with a muted thud, sealing the darkness away. The torches in the corridor above ground were lit properly, and the air was clear.

I had a choice. I could walk to the guest wing and slaughter every single member of the Assembly conclave, starting with Vaustin Maeron, or I could return to my guiding light.

Today, my heart spoke louder than my need for vengeance. With every footstep, the shadows settled a bit more back into my skin. The only place I needed to be right now was where the smell of baking spices and sweet citrus could overwhelm the rot the Assembly had brought with them. With enemies under my roof, she was the only thing that could prevent me from truly becoming a monster.

Chapter 43

Owain

After bathing and getting into new clothes, I finally allowed myself to breathe. And I was shamelessly taking advantage of the situation to be close to Lunette. I lay beside her, breathing in lungfuls of the steadiness only she could offer. She was still curled up under the furs, her gentle breaths and the crackle of the fire the only sounds in the room.

I hadn’t slept. Wasn’t sure I could while the world outside this room was preparing to move against us. But here, with her heartbeat a steady rhythm I could feel to the depth of my soul, something in me had gone quiet for the first time in years.

Beyond the castle walls, the creeping winter threatened, and within, magic and steel were our enemies. Yet here, her warmth soaked into my skin. This quiet was the eye of a storm that would tear my world apart the moment I stepped back into it.

First, I had to deal with any restless courtiers. Then, Reina. All the while trying desperately not to kill every single member of the Assembly conclave.

I pressed my lips to her temple, memorizing everything I could about this moment because something in me worried I wouldn’t get this peace back for a long time. Finally, with a silent groan that seemed to echo in the stillness, I willed my body to rise and left Luna a note explaining my absence, just in case she woke before my return.

As I stepped out into the corridor, the cold hit me like the flat of a blade against bare skin. My guards instantly stood taller. Reina’s women were waiting there too, observing every detail while hidden behind their unassuming servant’s attire. Between them, they formed a barrier that would be nearly impossible to breach without raising half the castle.

They’d help Lunette if she woke. They would keep her safe.

“Positions remain as ordered,” I said quietly to my captain. “No one enters.” I hated caging Lunette like this, but I couldn’t see any other way. Hated more that I would do far worse before this was over. The worst would be that she might see me differently afterward.

A chorus of assent followed me as I strode away.

Tension saturated the air of the castle like the oppressive humidity before a summer squall, poised for the thunder’s first rumble. Everywhere I looked, there were weapons. And beneath all the steel was something far more dangerous: fear.

The guards had doubled in every corridor, posted at intersections, outside doors, along the balconies overlooking the inner courtyards. At every junction, men huddled in knots that broke apart too quickly when they saw me coming. That meant rumors were flying.

It wasn’t only my men either. We’d allowed the visiting nobility to increase their guard within the keep, so tabards of every color lined the hallways.

I kept my pace unhurried. I had no intention of letting anyone see me sweat. Let them think I had everything well in hand, even as my mind split between wrath that my enemy was sheltered within my home and the possessive, protective rage over Lunette that bordered on insanity.

But they didn’t need to know that. They didn’t need to know that I was aware of their scheme. And they certainly didn’t need to know that she was my mate.

The dowager’s wing was guarded by a score of Reina’s men all wearing the black and silver of my mother’s house. With a nod, they parted without a word.

I knocked, received consent, and stepped inside—then stopped short.

Reina stood near the hearth, one hand braced against the mantel, the other holding a glass of something dark. The fire was high, the room dim and amber-warm. Her hair was unbound, falling over her shoulders in a way that would’ve scandalized the court if they’d been allowed to see it.

My feet paused because there was a second shape beneath the blankets in her bed. Richart was asleep on his side facing the wall, his breathing slow and even.