Page 27 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Once again, Lunette’s head rested in the hollow of my shoulder. With how much better I was feeling, she must’ve healed me until she had nothing left. The strength I’d regained, she’d paid for by following me into the darkness, exhausting herself beyond all reason.

If she was Assembly, where was her relief healer? Even in my current state, my hearing was excellent, and yet I sensed no armored men shifting by the front door. Hadn’t heard any voices other than hers. Was this scant protection and complete lack of protocol around a prisoner evidence that the Assembly was trying to keep my location hidden?

Or…was it proof that I was completely wrong about her?

I breathed in, only for the maddening smell of baking spices and citrus to invade my senses. My heart clenched with a sudden, visceral reaction. An instinct more ancient than fear or discipline made itself a silent command, whispering through every fiber of my being: stay still, don’t frighten her. Even if I could’ve moved freely, I wouldn’t. Not when she’d trusted me enough to sleep.

And, gods. My shadows had reached for her—longing to touch, to curl around her, as my arms itched to do now. If she’d been hurt, I would never have been able to forgive myself.

Lunette hadn’t run or attacked like she should have. She’d been startled, yes—but not nearly as terrified as anyone ought to have been when a predator was let out of its cage. She hadn’t summoned help either. Which meant she was very dangerous, or very alone.

I looked around, this time with an eye for damage I might have caused. There were no scorch marks on the floor near the hearth. No broken furniture. No blood—well, fresh blood, at least. I whispered silent thanks.

Slowly, I lifted my head a bit further off the floor. Pain flared, but not enough to drag a curse from my throat. I might be able to sit up if the cursed gods had decided to look away from me for one blessed day.

The angle of the light seeping through the shutters signaled the approach of dawn—a fitting time to awaken for a change. Slitted, hate-filled green eyes glared at me from the other side. She’d called the creature “Muffin”—a quaint name for the little demon who obviously wanted to finish the job he’d started on my face.

I eyed him back, allowing my eyes to flash with an obsidian gleam.

The pugnacious creature hissed in response and hopped off the windowsill. Though in truth, I couldn’t blame the veska. I’d brought danger to his home.

The fire in the hearth was down to embers now. It would’ve been freezing if I didn’t have a living blanket lying next to me. Strands of hair covered her face. I couldn’t move the arm she was curled atop to push them away, but maybe just a slight shift with the other…

A mistake. She stirred. Breath hitched. Then her lashes fluttered, and she blinked up at me. Awareness rippled out over her features like a stone dropping into still water.

I braced for her rapid recoil when she realized where she’d slept, for the pain that would follow. Instead, she slowly pushed herself upright with a murmur of apology. She swept the hair from her face and pressed the back of her hand to my brow.

I stilled, eyes searching. This care felt undeserved.

“You’re cooler,” she said, as if touching me hadn’t just undone a remarkable portion of my composure.

“Only sort of…dying,” I grunted, forcing my attention onto the pain because the last thing I had any right to feel in this situation was interest in a woman.

“Sounds like progress to me,” she said with a grin. Her voice was soft from sleep, with a hint of morning roughness. It made parts of me twitch that I’d feared wouldn’t work for quite some time.

Which was when, to my utter horror, I realized I wasn’t wearing any trousers.

“You stripped me bare!” A smirk inexplicably hitched up one side of my lips.

Her mouth fell open. Then she snorted—actually snorted—before clapping a hand over her lips. “I think you’ll find that if I wanted to ogle a man, I wouldn’t choose a half-dead one whose blood isn’t in the right body parts for my needs.”

I scowled to bury the amusement and attraction warring with caution within me as she stood.

“Your husband wouldn’t approve of your actions, I’m sure,” I huffed indignantly, voice still raw. I was fishing, and she knew it.

She gave me that wry grin again. The sinking feeling in my chest when she said nothing to affirm or deny the existence of a husband confirmed far too much about my growing inclinations toward my savior.

“You’ve already soiled yourself twice, m’lord,” she said, executing the sloppiest curtsey I’d ever seen. “I didn’t want to deal with that any longer.”

Every ounce of blood drained from my face. I wanted to die on the spot.

Of course. Of course I’d pissed myself. Fuck.

And she’d seen my cock… Cursed gods, it had probably shrunk into itself like a frightened turtle.

Not a good showing all around.

The worst part was that I couldn’t even be properly humiliated about it. She’d kept me alive. I owed her the dignity of not making my shame her problem.