Page 88 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

Sorry, Mama. I tried. But then I set my jaw, determined not to think of things I couldn’t change.

By the time Selmont disappeared behind the rise of the hill, my jaw and back screamed as one, aching from holding me together. Nisien rode beside me as promised. He spoke when it made sense—about the road, about winter travel, about nothing at all. He asked about my work, Selmont, about Muffin. Light topics that let me forget for a few hours that I was being forced from my home at sword point.

As we rode downslope, I studied the strange prince who’d come to fetch me for another. Nisien was too relaxed. He looked like a man comfortable nudging pieces on a board for which he’d already memorized every outcome.

“You’re enjoying kidnapping me,” I accused, the exhaustion of leaving everything I’d known behind loosening my tongue.

“Immensely,” he admitted with a grin.

“Good. I’d hate to be abducted without enthusiasm.” I exhaled slowly through my nose, agitation warring with the humor he brought out so easily. “May I ask why you’re here, Your Highness?”

“I’m very good at smoothing things over. And you, Lady Lunette, deserve at least that much courtesy.” Then, more seriously, “No Highnesses, just Nisien, please. As to why…”

He mulled his answer over for a long moment as our horses clomped on.

Then he looked me squarely in the eye and said, “Your suspicion is correct. I’m meddling.” He shrugged, and a warm, honest smile spread across his features. “It’s what I do best.”

Something told me he was even more adept at it than he was letting on.

“Honesty is also high on your list of attributes,” I said.

It was astonishing to me that such a powerful man would be so forthright with me, a peasant. His magic didn’t make my skin crawl like his twin’s, but Nisien was no pushover in magic either. I could feel the charge of his aura from a dozen feet away. And yet he carried that vast reservoir of magic with an ease that suggested it weighed no more than a winter cloak.

I couldn’t help but smile. His cheerful expression was a bright spot in a world gone gray. “Why meddle? Other than for the fun of it, of course.”

“Someone has to step in where everyone else steps back. Not that I blame them,” Nisien said, his voice dropping. “If you leave a thing alone for too long, it rots. And I’ve seen enough good people punish themselves for situations they can’t control.”

I looked away toward the tree line before he could see whatever my face was doing. My traitorous heart stopped in my chest because the words landed far too close to the pain Owain had left behind. This golden prince saw far deeper than his easygoing manner suggested.

“You’re justified in your anger, you know,” Nisien said, his eyes piercing mine with a knowing gaze that made me think he might actually mean it. “Owain already hates himself for taking away your choices.”

“How comforting,” I said pleasantly. “The man ordering my abduction feels guilty about it. So…it wasn’t the king who sent for me.”

Nisien looked momentarily cowed, like maybe he wasn’t supposed to let that detail fly. He bit back a grimace and said, “Berian can’t. He’s been unconscious for days. Owain…knew a miracle worker and decided to risk her wrath to save his brother.”

Brother.

Affection and obligation were so deeply entwined within the word that it was hard to tell the difference between them. If I’d had a sibling, I would’ve stopped at nothing to save them. If Nisien kept reminding me of that, it would be inconveniently difficult to stay mad at Owain.

But maybe that’s the part Nisien’s meddling in.

It was working—just enough to hurt. I could rein in my wrath…a little.

Or maybe that was just my traitorous heart hoping for an impossible outcome. I had to remind myself that I was going to the Tir to be used—not loved. But if he looked at me the way he had in Selmont, I might forget to protect my heart all over again.

The soldiers broke off to make camp half an hour before sunset. Green and red moved together with practiced efficiency, as if there were no old rivalries between them—no chance that, on another road or under a different crown, they might one day meet as enemies. The sight was encouraging.

When I offered my help, the men stared at me as though I’d spoken in a foreign tongue. One of them cleared his throat and informed me, with unmistakable firmness, that I was to rest instead.

I bit back a sharp reply. Men had been dismissing women since the first fire had been lit, but this was the first time I’d been ordered to do nothing.

But I was here under duress. There was little sense in exhausting myself for the comfort of those charged with abducting me. So I took Muffin’s cage, chose a place at the nearest fire, and settled there with all the dignity I could muster.

To my surprise, Nisien labored alongside the men, hauling tent poles and driving iron spikes into the half-frozen earth. He worked without complaint or pretense, as though such tasks were neither beneath him nor worthy of comment. Which, I suspected, was exactly why the men from Darreth and Larethia followed him so readily.

Annoying how good Owain’s taste in friends seemed to be.

The evening produced yet another surprise—this one delivered on bended knee.