Page 46 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

The problem was that I’d never had to lie with two armed strangers staring at me like they already suspected I was hiding something. My mind reached for something plausible and found nothing. Just Rowan’s face. Just the thought of them finding him helpless in my bed. I stepped back, legs itching to run, before I thought better of it.

The hairy one’s hand fully gripped the hilt of his sword.

The bald mercenary hopped off his horse. “We’re not looking to harass a woman, miss. Just for information about the man. Our employer says he’s dangerous.”

Definitely dangerous. And the not harassing a woman part already smelled like a lie.

I swallowed hard. Too late. My hesitation was a confession all on its own.

The broad one found his way to the ground next. “Why don’t you tell us where he is, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The word landed like a hand already on my throat.

Both men smiled, but neither smile was pleasant.

The hairy man grabbed my arm. His grip was hard enough to bruise, meant to frighten as much as restrain. It would work… Until it didn’t.

I smiled back, and as I wove the threads, I imagined the satisfying snap that would render his arm permanently useless.

Time to show them the real Fae bitch.

Chapter 14

Owain

I was just pulling my boots back on when Muffin came barreling toward me, wiry fur along his back fully extended, making a whimpering, growling sound of extreme agitation.

Lunette.

I knew all the way down to my bones that something was wrong. Pain didn’t register as I jumped to my feet and jogged up the path she’d disappeared down a few minutes before. Muffin’s furry brown shape vanished into the dense underbrush, the rustling of leaves the only clue that he was following.

As I moved, everything faded. I didn’t know how I knew which direction she was in. I simply knew.

Underbrush tore at my legs. The cold air cut into my still-recovering lungs like glass. An image formed unbidden in my mind. I saw nothing but her slight frame backed against a tree, eyes wide, lips trembling. Someone touching her. Someone hurting her.

Her shout reached me a second later. My heart stopped then beat twice as fast. She sounded angry, not pained, thank the gods.

I crested the rise just as a large man wearing chainmail grabbed her arm.

He touched her. My world narrowed to that single fact. Doesn’t deserve to have arms.

In my mind, I envisioned severing both, affording him enough time to reflect on the reasons for his painful death.

A thought drifted up like rising smoke from the quiet corner of my mind where I’d suppressed everything about being Nocthel.

This is not wickedness. It is instinct.

Right now, instinct felt like serving bloody justice. A sound, raw with murderous intent, ripped from my throat.

The man’s head snapped toward me, shock widening his eyes. A second man stood behind him, trimmer, wearing a patchwork of leather armor and holding a poorly made sword. That one might be fast.

Yet Lunette wasn’t cowering like my running nightmare had shown. No, she’d dug her fingers into the arm of the man who’d grabbed her. Neither mercenary had the hum of magic about them, so neither could feel what she was poised to unleash, but I could.

It was…dark. Darker than my own shadows. Nothing like the warm healing magic I’d felt from her. That had been moonlight chasing away the dark. This was something that knew exactly where to go and what to ruin when it got there. I’d never heard of a healer with such a power.

I had no idea what she planned to do, but I wasn’t about to wait around to see. So I kept running. The large man yanked her forward by the wrist as the second man reached to grab her shoulder. They thought to use her as a shield.

Disgusting cowards.