33. Chapter 33 #3
I looked down at them. Hands that had just threatened four men, that had used my magic like a garrote, that had left a fracture in solid oak. The same hands that had, not long ago, steadied a woman who was trying very hard not to let anyone see that she was shaking too.
I pressed them flat against the table until the trembling stopped.
She would’ve hated seeing this, but I already knew I’d do so much worse to protect her.
Camrick returned several minutes later, brushing nonexistent dust from his shirt. “Michen is secured.”
I just sat there dumbly, still thinking about Lunette.
“When will you release him?” Camrick asked casually, as though inquiring about the weather.
I stared at the heavy oak table, at the fracture line my fist had left in its surface.
“I’m going to leave that up to you,” I said. “If I had my way, I’d let him rot.”
Camrick huffed a humorless laugh. “Ah… Exceptionally clear-headed thinking, Your Highness.”
“Careful,” I warned mildly.
“No, no,” he continued, voice syrup-thick with sarcasm. “It’s brilliant. Give the man time in a damp hole to contemplate his betrayal. Let him decide when he’s sufficiently remorseful. Very progressive of you.”
I shot him a flat look.
His hands shot up in mock surrender. “Hey, you didn’t kill him.”
“Don’t mistake restraint for mercy.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
A heavy quiet settled between us.
He leaned back against the wall. “You think it’s already reached them.”
It wasn’t a question. Camrick had a thousand reasons to hate and fear the Assembly as much as I did—and most of his were even more personal than mine.
I turned toward the narrow window slit. The sky beyond had darkened from purple to a shade of oppressive gray. Low clouds pressed toward the castle like an advancing army on the horizon.
The bond in my chest tightened painfully. They would send a delegation to assert their control over her. Claim that someone so powerful needed oversight.
And I’d fucking break them all for trying.
Camrick pushed off the wall, studying my face. “We can increase her guard.”
“That will only confirm she’s worth guarding.”
“Then what?” He threw his hands in the air.
Thunder rumbled, low and foreboding. With it, a faint tremor ran through the bond linking me to her. It felt as though, somewhere in the castle, Lunette had paused, sensing the same shift in the air.
I watched the first streak of lightning fracture the sky beyond the battlements. The storm was moving fast.
She was already extraordinary. Now she was visible. Those two things together, without the protection of a royal name, were the most dangerous combination I knew.
I’d brought her here to save the kingdom from one threat and walked her directly into the reach of something much worse than me losing my mind. They would make her disappear—quietly, legally, with paperwork and precedent.
But I could fight back with the same. I went to Camrick’s desk, pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from the stack, and dipped his quill.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Making it expensive for them to touch her.”
He came to stand behind me as I wrote the first line.
By authority of the Prince Regent, acting in defense of the Crown’s interests—
Camrick let out a low whistle. “That’s a big opening.”
I ignored him and kept writing while he peered over my shoulder.
A review of all foreign magical institutions operating within Larethian territory will be undertaken without delay.
No correspondents and diplomatic actors with access to military posts, noble households, royal records, gifted minors, and unregistered mages are exempt.
All detainments, examinations, and transfers of Larethian citizens by these foreign institutions will require signed consent from the Crown.
“Owain,” he said carefully. His eyes remained fixed on one line.
Previous Crown-sanctioned transfers of magically significant persons shall be documented and reviewed for irregularity, coercion, injury, or failure of return.
The thing I was pretending I hadn’t put there for him.
His jaw flexed.
“You don’t have to say a word. Publicly or privately.” I set the quill down. “If you want that line removed, I’ll remove it.”
The silence stretched.
“Leave it,” he said at last.
Something in my chest twisted. His past with them was not pretty.
“They definitely don’t want their actions documented.” Camrick’s grin returned by degrees. “The Dread Reaver of Larethia is a terrifying bastard when he wants to be.”
“Please don’t start calling me that,” I begged, though it was probably a losing battle already.
“I’ll have this distributed overnight.” Camrick’s expression sobered again. “And…thank you, Owain.”
When I returned to my room later that night, I stared at my signet ring. I’d always thought ruling meant holding myself back. When I’d handed Camrick with the writ, the look on his face made it clear I’d been wrong.
Perhaps sometimes ruling meant wearing my violence like armor. And, given the speed at which I knew the Assembly would work for someone as valuable as Lunette, it wouldn’t be long until I needed to take up a weapon too.