Page 100 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

He grunts, wrapping his fingers around it. “Let me try.” He thinks for a moment and then asks, “Am I mated to Candra?”

The knife shivers again.

“Are we going to have a dozen children?”

I prickle uncomfortably at the question, and I’m not surprised when the knife doesn’t move.

“Am I in love with Candra?”

Shiver.

“Do we have enough food to last for the next five years?”

Nothing.

“How can we make it last for five more years?”

Nothing.

“Do you know what I am?”

Nothing.

“Do I have wings?”

Shiver.

Nemeth grunts. He takes the knife by the tip and holds it back out to me. “I know this sort of spell. It’s not a yes and no question as you say it is.”

I frown, holding the knife tightly in my grip by the small, gleaming blade. “It isn’t?”

“The spell is more specific than that. Or rather, it is not as powerful. It is enchanted to only reply if you ask a very specificsort of question that can be answered with a ‘yes.’ It does not have a setting for a ‘no’ because that would involve a second spell to give it the ability to answer ‘no,’ and then a third spell to force the knife to decide between the two answers. So in this case, a lack of response is perceived as a ‘no’ but that is not always the truth. It’s simply not a yes. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so.” I never thought of it as more than one spell…or any spell, really. Just that it could answer me. “I asked it if someone was coming to bring us food supplies, and it didn’t answer me.”

“Ask it again.” There’s a desperate look in his gaze. “Just in case.”

I hold the knife flat in my hand, extending it between us. “Is Lios sending food to me?”

No response.

“Is Darkfell sending food to Nemeth?”

No response.

“Perhaps that’s too specific,” Nemeth says quickly. “Ask it if anyone is sending supplies to us.”

I do, and the knife is as silent and cold as before. A knot of despair forms in my throat. “There has to be a reason why,” I say to him. “Something must be wrong. They wouldn’t cut us off.”

“They would if they knew we were mated.” Nemeth’s gaze is solemn. “If you reported back to your sister that you’d become the mate of the enemy, they wouldn’t feed you.”

I’m a little stung by his accusation. “I wouldn’t report back to her. How can I?”

“You think she doesn’t have a little blade just like this? You think she doesn’t ask about you?”

I hold the knife up by the tip, so that if the blade shivers, it’ll jump out of my grip. “Have I reported back to Erynne about my relationship with Nemeth? About anything?”

The knife doesn’t move.

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