Page 28 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“I’m not a lord,” I grumbled instead of explaining that particular quirk of male anatomy away. “Apologies for the…mess.”

“I’m a healer. I’ve seen it all.” Her expression softened at the edges as she piled bread and cheese onto a plate. “I also washed your lower legs while you were asleep, but this time I left…the rest for you to take care of. Maybe after breakfast?”

I prayed to the gods that the embarrassment didn’t show on my face.

With impeccable timing, the furry demon hissed from the windowsill again.

She glared at him with a look that could’ve sliced through steel. “Shush, heathen. You’re still not allowed back inside. He’s in pain!”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly.

She didn’t dignify the lie, just kept preparing two plates.

I needed to know what I was capable of. She watched on, wary, as I tied the blanket that had been covering me around my waist, lifted my feet to bend my knees, flexed my fingers, braced my arms—and immediately regretted every prideful decision that had led me to this moment. The room lurched as I managed a strangled breath.

But I had heaved myself up onto my elbows.

She made a quiet, incredulous sound before muttering, “You shouldn’t be able to do that yet.”

“Stubborn,” I said hoarsely. The effort required to hold myself in that half-up, half-down position felt like one of the legendary tasks of the great heroes in bard’s tales.

Lunette smiled, and my discomfort was immediately forgotten. She looked around for something then rushed over to what looked like an old blanket and spread it out over her bed.

She turned around, saw how tight my jaw was, and clicked her tongue, unimpressed. “Right. I’ll help…. Just in case.” The last she’d clearly tacked on to spare my pride.

I grunted. “Don’t need—” I stopped myself. Swallowed. Thought better. “—but thank you.”

She was already there, hand sliding behind my back. Every single muscle I could control locked in place—not just from pain, but from the sheer awareness of her. She was small, but steady and so soft.

“We’re this far. Let’s get you onto the bed.”

Every instinct within me screamed that she shouldn’t have to bear my weight, but the alternative was collapsing onto my face. Her arm tightened around my torso, hand positioned to avoid my wound, and I heaved myself up.

Pain and dizziness nearly toppled me—straight into her. I braced myself just in time. It didn’t matter how much it hurt; I would adjust my balance so she would carry as little as possible.

The shadows under my skin stirred at the contact, at the scent, inching ever closer as if they recognized her. I forced them to retreat with a snap of will before they could venture out to inspect the thing they seemed to want most, terrified she’d feel it.

One step. Two. On the third, she helped me lower to the blanket. I sank against the mattress, fighting to keep my body from shaking.

Lunette leaned over me to grab the pillows positioned at the head of the bed, but the movement almost sent her tumbling into my lap. I went utterly still, not wanting to make it awkward, but a jolt shot through me at the close contact anyway.

“Sorry,” she whispered, flinching too. She pulled back up quickly, giving the pillows a quick, decisive plump behind my back.

But she was still close. So close. For a brief, suspended moment, the world seemed to shrink, narrowing to her face above mine. Her breath was soft, her smell impossibly sweet, gaze so compassionate it made me question my suspicions all over again.

I’d clearly lost my mind.

She looked young but had the bearing of a more mature woman. Nothing about her said meek. Her eyes showed a person who’d seen some horrors of the world and come out the other side the stronger for it.

Before I could study her more closely, she blinked and righted herself with a rapid step back. I braced myself on the bed as she scrutinized me with a healer’s eye. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable.”

“On a scale of one to ‘I’m actually dying’?”

“Manageable,” I repeated, sharper.

She lifted a brow in a way that made me want to look away, but I refused to. “Are you hungry, Lord Grumpy?”