Page 102 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

This is my worst fear come to life. Anxious tendrils flare through my body, my limbs feeling cold and numb. “Has Darkfell won the war, then?”

No answer.

“Has Lios?”

No answer.

I exchange a worried look with Nemeth. “Is the war over?” I ask.

No answer.

“It doesn’t mean no,” he reminds me. “Just that it’s not a ‘yes’ to any of those questions.”

“Then the war stretches on,” I reply, fretting. “Maybe things have gotten so bad that whoever is in charge of our supplies is too busy to recall them. But surely my sister would remember to send me food, and your family at Darkfell…” A new idea hits me, and I try a new line of questioning. “Is my sister well?”

Yes, the knife shivers.

“Is she at Castle Lios?”

No answer.

That’s concerning. My sister wouldn’t leave her throne behind—or the castle itself—unless she had to. She’s worked too long and too hard to rule, even if it has to be at Lionel’s side. “Perhaps they had to evacuate,” I say to Nemeth, worried. “And in the chaos we’ve been neglected. What do we do? What should I ask?”

He shakes his head, rubbing my back in sympathy. “You won’t be able to ask it enough questions to clarify a response that will satisfy you. Ask it about our food instead. Ask it how long our supplies can last us. I’ve been saving them in case of such a situation, but I’ll have to recalculate my serving portions now that we have no new supplies of food coming in…”

I ask the knife, “Can our food last us another month?”

A shiver.

“Two months?”

A shiver.

“Three months?”

Silence.

“Well then,” I say, grimacing. “That’s our answer. Maybe someone will arrive in the next three months to resupply us.”

Nemeth grunts, but he doesn’t look convinced.

I decide to ask the knife again. “Will my medicine last three months?”

Silence.

“Two months?”

Silence.

Dragon shite. Nemeth’s hands tighten around my waist painfully, and I make a joke. “Well, the solution is obvious. You’re going to have to kill me and eat me, my love.”

He growls. “That’s not funny, Candra.”

It’s alittlefunny, but he looks quite upset. For some reason, his worry makes me feel even better. For all that I’ve learned today that makes me fret, I know Nemeth loves me with hiswhole heart. He could not feign the terror on his face. I lean forward and press a delicate kiss to his cheek. “Someone will come before we have to resort to that. Do not worry.” I pause, thinking. “Do you have any spells that can divine the future?”

Nemeth peppers me with soft, urgent kisses. “If I could tell the future, would we be in this predicament?”

Fair enough. “Then we assume the worst, and we make our supplies stretch. We make my medicine stretch.”

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