39. Chapter 39
Lunette
I went from relaxing into this new, dangerous ease between Owain and me to heart-pounding anxiety in an instant. Camrick was on his feet before the echo of Owain’s chair had even faded.
Owain released my hand before he fully straightened. “Keeper Maeron,” he said, “I find myself grateful for your candor.”
Vaustin’s brows lifted by the smallest degree. “Your Highness?”
Owain rested one hand on the back of his chair. The posture should’ve looked casual. Somehow, it made him seem more dangerous than if he’d conjured a blade. “We agree that the Assembly claims no sovereign authority in Larethia.”
The warriors nearest the dais subtly stiffened.
Owain continued, “Larethia recognizes the Assembly as a foreign institution with considerable expertise, but it also has a troubling talent for entering discussions no one quite remembers inviting them to.”
One of Camrick’s hands curled around the arm of his chair.
Vaustin’s smile thinned. “Prince Regent, surely you do not mean to imply—”
“I imply very little,” Owain said. “I am stating it plainly.”
The hall went so quiet I could hear the candles flicker. Though I was likely the only one fighting the sudden heat his words had sparked in every inch of my being.
“So let us be precise,” he continued. “Lady Lunette has signed no compact placing her person, magic, labor, or future beneath your aegis.”
My lungs forgot how to work and that stubborn heat only got worse.
Across from us, Thibault lowered his gaze to the table.
Coward.
“She is a guest of the Crown,” Owain said, “and a free woman under Larethian protection.”
Vaustin inclined his head. “A reasonable sentiment, Your Highness. But powerful magic does not become less dangerous because it is beloved by a court.”
The insinuation in his words was as sharp as a blade concealed under silk. He knew about our relationship.
Owain’s shadows stirred at his feet. Every warrior in the hall saw it. Every mage saw it too.
“If powerful magic were sufficient cause for custody, Keeper, half the noble bloodlines in this room would’ve been dragged to Caervorn generations ago.”
That single sentence would have the visiting nobility throwing their support behind him.
But Camrick didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
His face remained composed, almost bored, but the coldness in his eyes made my stomach twist at what horrors they’d done to make his sunshine dim.
He looked like a man on the verge of attacking at the first provocation—just like Owain.
Vaustin’s smile vanished for half a heartbeat before he restored it. “The Assembly has provided invaluable training to many gifted individuals,” Vaustin argued.
“And Larethia has provided invaluable individuals to your training halls,” Owain replied. “That arrangement is now under review.”
Reina’s head turned slightly toward him. Surprise flashed across her face before she hid it.
She didn’t know he would say that.
“Under review?” Vaustin repeated, gobsmacked.
Owain nodded once. His voice was steady, yet hidden tension, rife with a sort of dangerous energy, still lurked just beneath its surface. “A regent has obligations. One of mine is to ensure that no foreign body, however venerable, mistakes Larethian courtesy for submission.”
My mouth went dry. A sudden, jarring silence fell upon the room.
Something intangible moved through the hall.
It was like a rising storm, filling the air with a crackling intensity.
When I looked out at the crowd, I saw it was written on every hard, lined face: loyalty, the kind that would lead to sacrifice.
With an elegant sweep of his arm, Owain raised his goblet.
“To continued friendship with the Mage Assembly,” he said. “In that spirit, you will have one chance to assess her performance this afternoon when she attends to the king. But I require a word with my healer before this afternoon’s activities.”
I felt the weight of every eye at the table as they all shifted in my direction.
Vaustin’s eyes flicked to me. He nodded. “Then we shall settle in while we wait.”
“The king is not to be disturbed,” Owain warned.
Vaustin held up both his hands in a gesture of surrender. Only his terrible smirk, like he knew something no one else did, spoiled it. “We’ve had enough correspondence with His Majesty of late not to be impatient.”
Something told me that wasn’t a good thing—at all.
I looked up at Owain, a question in my expression. As our eyes locked, his gaze pierced the surrounding chaos of warriors, Camrick, Reina, and the mages, focusing solely on me with an intensity that shrank the question I was about to ask into insignificance.
“Come,” he added, his voice now a low rumble that bordered on a growl. There was nothing casual in the way he said it.
I threaded my hand through his offered arm, letting his self-assurance seep into me.
The hall seemed to hold its breath as we descended from the dais together.
The sheer power of his muscles, the warmth radiating from his skin, and the glances of the warriors all assailed my senses as we passed under the towering arches above.
I was on display again. The difference was that this time I wasn’t afraid of what would come next. Owain’s stride was deliberately slow, emphasizing the proprietary hold he had on my arm. Four armored guards followed.
The heavy doors closed behind us with a dull thud. When we stepped out into the corridor, he said, “You’ve not had a tour of the castle.”
“You want to take me on a tour…” I said, looking up at him, an incredulous smile on my face despite the lingering tension in my chest. “In the middle of an Assembly luncheon?”
He leaned forward until his breath brushed my ear in a way that had nothing to do with secrecy. “I needed an excuse to leave.”
To be alone with me.
“Lead on then.” My laughter was more a relief valve for tension than anything. The answering relaxation I sensed in him was profound.
He guided me down the corridor, the weak autumn light filtering through the arched windows, illuminating the glittering quartz flecks in the stone.
Through the glass, the gardens lay in perfect order, frost tracing every leaf and blade of grass, the bright stones of the walkways flowing between them like paths of snow.
The space was ordered and precisely predictable, but nothing about the way my pulse had begun to climb felt like any of those things.
“It’s better in spring,” he said, following my gaze. “My mother favored purple and white flowers, so everything blooms in shades of my father’s devotion to her. Theresa never changed it.”
“I like it even now,” I murmured. “Can’t fault your mother’s preference.”
That brought a faint upward curve to the corners of his mouth. We moved on.
The kitchens announced themselves with heat, the low hum of voices, and the scent of fresh bread and herbs. He didn’t take me inside, only slowed enough to nod toward the wide doorway.
“You’ll never go hungry here,” he said.
“I’ve gathered as much,” I replied dryly, thinking of what I’d said to Camrick only hours before.
There was another flicker of amusement from Owain, and I swore the rear guard cut off a snort of laughter.
Owain’s arm shifted against mine as he turned to point toward a doorway that led to the lower bailey. He didn’t seem to notice that his hand caressed my fingers where they rested on his forearm.
But I did. I noticed it with my entire body. I noticed how little space there was between us, and how easily that space could disappear entirely.
Except we had an audience in steel trailing us.
The energy between us felt different as we moved to the library.
He opened the door himself this time, motioning for me to step inside.
It was vast—shelves climbing toward the ceiling, ladders on rails, the faint scent of paper and old ink.
A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantelpiece adorned with a collection of ancient swords and shields.
Sunlight streamed through more arched windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
“Visit whenever you like.” Something in his voice shifted on the last word.
I turned back to him. “That sounds perilously close to an invitation.”
His magic radiated toward me again as he drew closer. “It is. Coming far too late. I’m sorry.”
For a moment, I only looked at him, surrounded by more books than I’d ever dreamed existed.
The anger I’d been carrying, the accounting of grievances, the low banked resentment I’d grown so accustomed to carrying that it had started to feel like part of me, every piece of it finally—brutally—gave completely away.
I looked at him and felt nothing but contentment and the undeniable attraction that had been there from the start.
This apology was a small one, but the bigger ones that had come before were just as sincere. I was ready to accept them all now.
“You should know,” I said quietly into the still of the room. “I forgive you…for everything. I’ve always understood why you did it. But my fears got in the way.”
“I know,” he said quietly, eyes clouded with the heavy weight of regret. “That makes what I did worse, not better. I used the goodness in you as an excuse. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. I’m sor—”
“Don't,” I interrupted gently. “I mean it. I’m done letting this stand between us.”
He briefly shut his eyes. Breathed deeply. When he opened them again, they were softer than I’d ever seen them and lingered on my lips a moment too long to not be intentional.
Then he took a deliberate step back. Something had shifted in his expression. It was the same one he wore the moment before he kissed me in the cabin. Like he was slipping.
I wanted nothing more than to fall with him. I wanted him to step forward. For me to close the gap. It was as if a rope, fastened from my heart to his, was steadily drawing me in his direction.
“Thank you,” he said finally. But there was a roughness to his voice now. “Come.”