Page 163 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

I looked at my aunt.

She stared back.

Was this who she wanted to retire to her estate with? He was at least a decade younger than she was and a mage-soldier of decent rank, but of no particular pedigree.

There was a long silence in which we conducted an entire conversation without opening our mouths.

Really? Richart? said my raised eyebrow.

She looked back at me over the rim of her cup. The slight lift of her chin answered: Are you really surprised?

I exhaled slowly through my nose. Right. Fair. It was just that she was Reina. She had more than enough male attention turned her way to have her pick of men. But she’d chosen Richart.

My gaze flicked once more to him. Then back to her. You could’ve told me.

A slight pinch at the corners of her eyes: I’m telling you now.

Then she did speak. “He’s steady, Owain.”

Coming from Reina that was the highest praise. So, that was all I needed to hear. I inclined my head and decided to welcome him into the family. I pulled a chair from the wall, turned it around, and straddled it.

Only someone who knew her as well as I did would’ve caught the subtle easing of her shoulders at my clear acceptance.

“What have your spies told you about Berian? I haven’t been to see him yet,” I said quietly.

“He was awake briefly, perhaps an hour ago.” She took a slow sip from her goblet. “Spoke a little, which is better than I’d expected. I didn’t get details. I had other matters requiring my attention.” Her gaze moved unapologetically to the bed. “My personal healer is with your brother. He’s presumably alive, or someone would’ve come running.” She took a long sip of her wine. “Lunette is still resting?”

I nodded, mind already threatening to force me to rush back and rest beside her.

“We’re lucky to have her… If it wasn’t already clear, I wholeheartedly approve of her,” she said, smiling in the way that told me she was about to strike. Voice held low, she hissed, “So don’t fuck it up again!”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ll do my best.” By the gods, I would try every day. “What do you have from the servants we have on the Assembly?”

“Nothing new,” she said. “They’re being careful. Too careful.”

I exhaled slowly. Them being careful hopefully meant we had a bit of time to move around them. She had the device secreted somewhere in this room too. Those things combined allowed the vise around my ribs to loosen a single notch.

Silence settled for a moment before I asked, “Did I do the right thing with the assassin?”

“You lost control,” she said bluntly. “But you found your way back.” There was nothing soft in her voice, but there was something that in another woman might’ve been called tenderness. “Most men never manage the second part. They comfort themselves by believing they were righteous or by accepting that they’re monsters. Either way, it’s the excuse they need to stop feeling guilty.” She picked up her goblet again. “You’ve never done either. You’ve always reflected on your choices and faced the consequences.”

“That doesn’t make what I did—”

“It makes it controlled,” she said, cutting across me cleanly. “Your magic has never been the danger, Owain. That’s what they always wanted you to believe—that who you are is the problem, that you’re always on the edge of becoming something foul. But you had every reason to murder that man, and you chose the harder route instead.” She gave me a look that could’ve stripped bark from a tree. “A monster is ruled by its nature,” she said. “A weapon is ruled by its wielder.” Her gaze locked onto mine. “You chose when to stop. That is a leader’s restraint.”

Camrick’s voice echoed faintly in my memory. Come back.

“I didn’t stop quickly enough,” I argued.

“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t. But you did stop.”

No comfort. No softening. Just truth.

“Go see your brother,” she said, already shooing me out. “Take a guard who has the balls to speak up if you act like a fool. You look like you want to start a fight.”

I almost smiled. She wasn’t wrong.

I took the long way back to the family wing, hoping to get a better feeling of how the keep outside the inner sanctum of the castle was faring with the news. That turned out to be a mistake—twice over.