Page 89 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

I’d just accepted a cup of wine from the young hunter when Richart dropped, steel and all, to the ground before me. “Forgive me, Lady Lunette,” he said.

For a long moment, I could only stare. What the…

“Commander Allard,” he continued hoarsely, “and Prince Shadowborn”—he spoke the latter with a reverence I refused to allow to sink beneath my skin—“would be well within their rights to flay me for my conduct. I beg your pardon, my lady.”

I searched for a response and came up empty-handed. I was used to being slighted, avoided, spoken of in lowered voices, but honest repentance was a language I barely understood.

Then, as if the moment required further ceremony, Richart extended a small offering toward Muffin’s cage: a wood mouse, thankfully quite dead.

Muffin smelled it with interest then snatched it away like a starving thief.

“You’re forgiven,” I mumbled to Richart, hiding my shock by taking another sip of wine.

He quickly left, looking relieved, only to be replaced by Nisien joining me at the fire. “Poor sod nearly got beaten by the other guards for his impatience.” He lowered his voice. “That man is religiously devoted to serving the monarchy—it’s weird—but that explains his concern.”

“I have no doubt you have plenty of admirers yourself,” I said, feeling the wine go to my head.

Nisien’s smile held a hidden ache. He looked like a man who’d accepted what had happened to him but still hated the person it had forced him to become. That left a bitter taste in my mouth because something about him told me we could’ve been friends in a different life.

His face rapidly became a deliberate pretense of cheerfulness. “I heard you also have a talent for warding.” He reached into the pouch hanging on his sword belt and pulled out a carefully folded piece of parchment. “This is a bit of reassurance for you about that. Apologies for not telling you earlier. I wanted Owain to be the one who told you.”

I took the proffered note. My hand immediately started quivering.

“That’s your tent.” He pointed to the nearest one. “Know that your safety is not in question tonight or during the rest of the trip, lady. These men are devoted to your security unto death. Sleep well.”

He stood, dusted off his trousers, and disappeared into the tent nearest mine. My fingers hesitated on the smooth parchment for a long moment before a disapproving squeak from Muffin got them moving.

Elegant handwriting flowed across the page:

Lunette,

Your selfless warding of Selmont has not been forgotten, nor will it be abandoned in your absence. I have ordered a ward-weaver to stay behind and take up your task until the snows pass and you can return home.

You were gracious about one stranger sleeping on your floor. I hope you won’t object to another caring for your home and Selmont while you’re away.

I miss you.

— Owain

I read it once. Again, slower. Then a third time, because I miss you had no business sitting at the bottom of a letter that had also contained the words ordered and task. I pressed the parchment flat against my knee, my thumb smudging the place where his signature rested.

But this wasn’t an apology. This was consideration layered so carefully over a political decision it made my head spin.

“You don’t get to miss me like this,” I whispered into the quieting camp filled with men whose job it had been to seize me by force if necessary.

My vision blurred despite my efforts not to care. I blinked hard, refusing the indignity of tears—until the second one today escaped anyway, landing squarely on the ink of his name.

Today, I’d said goodbye to the one place I’d ever known. Tomorrow, I’d say goodbye to Nisien and see the plains of Larethia for the first time. The day after that…I would see him.

And, damn my heart, I hated—with every careful, sensible part of me—how much I wanted to.

Chapter 26

Lunette

The man who styled himself a social dandy understood far more about people than he let on. On horseback, more than a day after our meeting, I still thought of my final conversation with Nisien before he’d departed for Tir Gelida.

“I truly like you, Lady Lunette,” he’d said. “You have fire, but also a rare type of altruism.”