36. Chapter 36
Owain
The belltower bell chimed, signaling that dinner was an hour away.
My days had become a harsh duality: half spent beating my body into submission training with the men so I didn’t follow Luna around like a lost puppy, the other half surrendered to the chains confining me to a desk.
Before me sat a daunting stack of papers, the scent of old ink lingering faintly in the air.
Some of it was correspondence, but most were orders requiring the regent’s signature.
Reina sat on the other side of the desk, smiling broadly. “She said she couldn’t decide if I reminded her more of a dire wolf or a rabid badger!” I‘d never seen my aunt laugh with such unrestrained mirth. “I like her, Owain.”
Me too.
“So,” I ventured, shuffling one document aside as if that might make the pile smaller. “We get only one night off before the Assembly arrives.”
“Stop acting as if I still rule your schedule.” Her tone carried more amusement than reprimand.
“Except my life is much easier if I do. One man can’t do everything to run a kingdom alone.” I shrugged. “So?”
“Wise, but somehow also lazy and ungrateful. Some things never change…” She harrumphed, though the corner of her mouth twitched. “Lunette is napping. We had a more eventful afternoon than expected. She’ll eat dinner in her room. Relax with a book or keep up with her correspondence.”
I sat up straighter. “And what do you hope to talk me into?”
“Nothing! You deserve one night off too. I’ve already circulated that you’ll be spending time with Berian tonight.” She tapped the stack of papers with a knowing look. “Things are going to be tense as soon as the mage contingent arrives. I need you well-rested and clear-headed.”
I can think of one thing that would make me clear-headed, but that’s out of reach until she decides to let me back in.
Reina twirled one of my quills in her deft fingers. “I’m surprised you didn’t have Lunette’s family sent with her. As a matter of fact, I know nothing about your mate’s family, nephew.”
“That’s because there’s nothing to know. Her parents died—they were mated too—and she was the only child.”
“Oh…that’s quite unfortunate,” she said slowly. Then, “Well, perhaps you could drop by and update her about the wardsmith you left behind in Selmont then. And Owain, you need to tell her what Vaustin can do. She needs to be prepared.”
Talk of the Assembly’s top henchman almost soured my mood. “Are you giving me your official blessing to be near the ‘future princess of Larethia?’”
“Yes—don’t mess it up.” She clenched her fist, the gesture halfway between a threat and a laugh. “I refuse to explain to the court why my nephew started an incident because he forgot how to behave around a pretty woman.”
Reina quickly left to talk to her band of servants. Every single one of them was, in reality, a spy.
I worked until early evening settled over the castle like a black cloak, anticipation threading through me like a live thing.
When I finally left my apartment, the family corridor was silent but for the torches burning steadily in their iron brackets and the occasional creaking of leather and steel as the guards shifted in place.
At Lunette’s door, a servant was just stepping out, balancing an empty tray against her hip.
She dipped into a quick curtsy as she noticed me. “Prince Regent.”
“Good evening,” I said, slipping inside before she’d taken two steps down the corridor. It would only help my case if she gossiped about this.
One step into the room, and the scent of flowers filled my nostrils.
The weather had long since stripped the countryside bare, yet these flowers were impossibly vibrant.
Every available surface—tables, the mantel, the windowsill, even the chest at the end of the bed—had been claimed by bright clusters of blooms. Crimson roses, pale blue starflowers, golden bells drooping from green stems. All magic grown, which meant they’d cost a bloody fortune.
Whoever had sent them had both coin and motive.
My mate bond tightened around my chest, promising to loosen the moment I removed my competitor.
Coryanthus. Had to be him. I recognized his particular brand of expensive sentiment from watching him charm his way into many a noble daughter’s bedroom. He was handsome, titled, and widely considered charming by people who’d never actually needed to rely on him.
The rational part of my mind—not operating at full capacity currently—knew that Lunette was a grown woman who’d managed her own affairs for considerably longer than she’d known me. That she owed me nothing. That jealousy of this particular shade was beneath my dignity as a prince of Larethia.
I noted all of that.
And then I looked at the roses again.
I’ll cut his cock off before I cut out his heart.
Lunette stood near the hearth, wiping her hands on a cloth as if she’d just finished eating. The firelight gilded the bright copper in her hair.
So lovely.
“Who sent you these?” I demanded, voice coming out far harsher than I’d intended.
Her head snapped toward me. Immediately, her arms crossed over her chest. “That,” she said coolly, “is none of your business, Your Highness.”
Probably not the best way to start this, Owain.
But I couldn’t seem to help myself. I shut the door behind me with a whip of shadow.
At the sound of our voices, Muffin came bounding in from the porch. He immediately scrambled up my trousers and tunic to wrap himself around my neck like a living scarf, making a soft churring sound.
“You’re trespassing—again,” Lunette added, lifting her chin. She eyed Muffin as if he were committing treason as I petted him in greeting.
She didn’t ask me to leave. And that spark of mischief dancing in her eyes pulled me in with the promise that perhaps not all was lost.
“This time,” I said mildly, stepping further inside, “I agree with you.”
My gaze drifted deliberately across the riot of color crowding her chamber. I walked with my neck warmer to the breakfasting table. “Who sent the flowers?” I asked again.
Her mouth flattened into a stubborn line. She didn’t step back an inch when I moved closer, holding her ground like a soldier braced behind a shield.
“You can huff and puff all you want,” she said. “I’m not telling you.”
“Fine.” I folded my arms as Muffin jumped down to sniff the table where her food had been. “I’ll have the servants questioned.”
“That sounds like a wonderful use of their time.” Her eyes flashed. “Stop being so domineering. Can’t you see that that’s exactly why I’ve been upset with you?”
“It is my job to be domineering.”
Fuck. Why was I arguing? Why was I standing in a room full of another man’s flowers, making everything worse? “I’m just…curious.”
She stared at me, wholly unimpressed with my efforts to cover the dangerous edge of homicidal intent leaking into my eyes.
I closed them immediately and turned my head away.
Gods. I’d never felt jealousy like this before.
My control had improved since Lunette arrived, but my magic still reacted like a restless beast whenever she was near.
“Your job, and your birthright,” she corrected. I caught her rolling her eyes just as I turned back around. “You weren’t like this before. I miss Rowan.”
The words went in like a blade between the ribs.
Not because they were cruel, but because she was right.
Rowan had been a lie in name only; in every other way, he might’ve been the truest version of me.
That man had been lighter. Had an easier life.
He hadn’t known what she was to him yet, so fear hadn’t made him stupid and possessive and here, filling her room with his obnoxious jealousy.
I drew a slow breath and forced it down into the quiet place where discipline lived. “I know,” I said. And meant it in ways I didn’t say aloud.
When my eyes found hers, the polished apology drilled into me since childhood rose automatically to my tongue. My deepest apologies, Lady Lunette. My temper was unseemly.
But that lacked what I wanted between us: sincerity.
“I’m sorry,” I said instead, and let it sound as ruined as it felt. “For coming into your room and getting angry about flowers I had no right to question. For behaving as though your attention was my territory alone and any man near it was a threat to my claim.”
Her eyes widened.
“I don't have a claim,” I gritted out. My hands curled at my sides, but I wrenched them open again.
She blinked. Then forced a shrug. “I already turned him down anyway,” she said with feigned casualness.
Hoping to save face, I cleared my throat. “I was here to tell you about Selmont and the mage hunter on the way.”
Her brow arched. “So you’re my courier now?” she asked. “Why the change after you’ve been ignoring me since I got here?”
“I haven’t been ignoring you, Luna.”
She tilted her head skeptically, whether at my use of her private name or my assertion, I wasn’t certain.
“I was told to give you space so you wouldn’t feel caged after I had you brought to the Tir,” I explained.
“Reina trying to help?” she asked.
I nodded.
Lunette pressed her lips together. I noticed, with no small amount of satisfaction, that she was trying very hard not to grin.
“So,” she said slowly, “is this your aunt deciding you’ve been a good enough boy to be let off your leash?”
I should’ve laughed or deflected. Instead, something in me—some exhausted, honest place I’d stopped guarding—answered her plainly. “I was falling apart without you.” I was tired of carefully managing every syllable. She deserved my truth.
The silence that followed was the loudest thing I’d heard in weeks.
Something vulnerable flickered in her eyes. Yet I couldn’t quite make out her expression, which seemed caught between a longing to believe me and an overwhelming terror that she already did. I recognized it because I wore it every time I thought about what she was to me and what I stood to lose.
Locking eyes with her, I refused to yield an inch. I’d chosen my final battleline. Honesty would be the hill I died on.