Page 196 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Anne moved around to stand in front of me and surveyed her work with a glint of satisfaction—until her eyes landed on my ears. According to her, they required bigger emeralds and gold chains as fine as spider silk hanging from tips to lobe.

When she was done, I surveyed myself in the mirror.

The woman looking back at me had my mother’s nose and my father’s eyes, but something in her had changed. She held herself differently. There was no apology in the line of her shoulders, no instinct to make herself smaller or softer or easier to overlook. She looked like a woman who made decisions without wavering and intended to keep doing it.

She looked strong.

I stood there a moment longer than I needed to. Stuck somewhere between grief and relief, I thought, The woman I used to be would’ve liked the person in the mirror.

And for once, I agreed with the old me.

Reina arrived to collect me for the coronation looking as if she’d been stitched into her gown rather than dressed in it. It was a striking blend of black and silver—her house’s colors. The design was flawless, with a tightly cinched waist, a broad, silver-shimmering belt, and jewelry so subtle it seemed deliberate.

She didn’t want to take attention away from her nephew.

Richart walked beside her, his arm linked with hers, a broad smile of pride on his face. If anyone suggested Reina was directly descended from the Mother Goddess, Richart would wholeheartedly concur then erect an altar in her honor with his own hands.

Seeing the former guard dressed up required a moment of adjustment, because I’d never seen Richart in anything other than a uniform and armor. The man currently beaming over Reina’s shoulder wore a deep charcoal doublet with silver-tipped buttons, trousers with fancy pleats, and boots buffed to reflect candlelight. Reina had obviously chosen and arranged every stitch of it.

He caught me looking and gave me a small, slightly rueful smile, which I returned.

“So, Richart is your new project?” I asked, voice wry.

Reina didn’t bother denying it, just smirked.

“Amara’s coronation gown is stunning on you,” she commented while we were walking.

I faltered mid-step.

By all the magic, this was Owain’s mother’s gown? A steady rhythm of anxiety began to pound in my chest. I was already calculating if I had enough time before the feast that evening to change clothes, fearing I might accidentally ruin something so precious.

I must’ve made a face because Reina tutted and dragged me along. We were almost at the grand entrance when Owain appeared around the corner. My heart did something my feet would’ve been embarrassed by.

Reina had been very clear that he was meant to be waiting on the dais when the court gathered. So I’d spent the walk here mentally rehearsing how to enter on her arm without tripping over my own heels in front of him.

His stride was slow and confident, as though he had nowhere else to be. A servant trailed him, never moving closer than three steps behind, cradling a white bundle piled neatly across his arms.

Owain smiled when he saw us and stopped in front of me. The tunic he wore was the precise green of my gown—not approximately, exactly, down to the shimmering gold beads that covered the fabric in the same pattern as my dress. I stared at him. He said nothing, which meant he’d planned this.

We were a perfectly matched set. Whatever happened today, he’d already chosen how he wanted them to see us. Owain’s gaze swept over me, an appreciative look—too appreciative for the daytime—in his eyes.

“You’re supposed to be on the dais,” I said, because I needed to say something or blush in front of Reina.

“I was,” he replied. “And then I decided I’d rather be with you.”

The servant stepped forward then, and settled the pile of fur he’d been carrying around my shoulders. It was the same one I’d worn on my first visit to the Tir. “For the cold, m’lady,” he said.

Owain offered me his arm, and I took it.

Reina and Richart walked out ahead of us, and Richart leaned down just before the threshold leading outside to whisper something into her ear. A genuine blush, starting in her cheeks and spreading uncontrollably, bloomed on Reina’s face. Whatever she said back only widened his already broad grin.

I was so happy for them it almost hurt.

Then Owain and I were at the doors, and he gave the signal to open them. I had exactly one breath to take stock: a coronation, a fortune in silk and gold, war on the horizon, and an entire court about to look at me and decide if I was worthy of him. If I faltered, I wouldn’t just embarrass myself—I’d weaken his standing.

The courtyard opened up, and whatever remained of my worries dissolved at the sight before us. Snow blanketed almost every surface.

Servants had worked through the night, turning the space into something truly extraordinary. Braziers were arranged in long lines on either side of a cleared path, warming the people gathered in clusters around them, their breaths rising in small clouds as they chatted. The snow caught the light from the fires and threw it back in a thousand different directions, prisms of copper and gold glittering across everything.