Page 148 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“We are leaving,” he tells me in a low, furious voice.

We…are? But when he takes me by the hand and pulls me forward, away from the other cells, it seems that yes, we are in fact, leaving. “Where are we going, Nemeth?”

“Anywhere but here. I won’t let my mate be treated like this.” The bitter fury is still in his voice.

That worries me. We’ve run out of places to go, haven’t we? Lios is gone, a wasteland of mud and rain. There’s no food to be found there, just like in the tower. The Alabaster Citadel won’t have us. Isn’t Darkfell all that remains?

Before I can ask about his plan, the soldier that initially captured me—the unfamiliar Fellian—appears in a nearby alcove and immediately hops down onto the floor in front of us. Right after him, a second Fellian appears, this one tall and slender, but there’s something familiar about his face. He floats down next to the other and I get a good look at his clothing. Unlike the first Fellian, this one’s chest is covered with leather straps that braid and cross each other, holding an ornate chest plate over his heart. The designs on the chest plate look familiar, and I glance over at Nemeth.

“Brother,” he growls. “You look unwell.”

Brother?! This is the king? I stare at the taller, thinner Fellian. He has some resemblance to Nemeth, I realize upon a second look. It’s there in the set of the eyes and the stubborn jaw. This one, though, looks younger than my Nemeth. And hedoeslook unwell, his gray skin a sickly pale shade.

“I’m recovering,” Nemeth’s brother says. “And I’m surprised to see you here. It’s true then. You left the tower? Abandoned your duty?”

“What about your duty to supply us with food?” Nemeth retorts. “We had no choice but to leave.” He steps slightly in front of me, just enough to put his bulk between me and the other two Fellians. It’s not obvious at first what he’s doing, but when they both narrow their eyes in my direction, I realize that Nemeth doesn’t trust them not to attack us.

The tall one grunts acknowledgment of Nemeth’s words. “You need to talk to the king.”

So this isn’t the king then. This is…another brother? I hold tight to Nemeth’s hand, wanting to ask a million questions, but I bite them back. There’ll be time for that later.

“I’ll speak to Ivornath but only after my wife has rested. We’re going to my quarters.”

The brother tilts his head. “Wife?” His gaze is withering as he looks me over. “You took the other Vestalin princess as your mate? Both my brothers are fools, then.” He gives an irritated shake of his wings, spreading them wide. “I will tell the king of your arrival…and your mate. He’ll find it interesting, to say the least.”

Nemeth’s hand just tightens on mine.

The two Fellians fly away, taking to the tall shadowy ceiling and disappearing into its depths. I watch as they go and it makes me wonder. Why is no one surprised or upset that we left the tower? Has something more happened?

And what did he mean by “both my brothers are fools”? What has he done with Erynne?

Chapter

Seventy-Four

Nemeth picks me up and flies me through the labyrinthine, dark tunnels of Darkfell. I’m too tired to protest, and though I know he must be exhausted, too, his wing-beats are strong and sure. I’m not entirely surprised when we continue to go up instead of through the bottom part of the city itself, and when Nemeth sets his feet down, it’s upon the ledge of one of the tallest of the homes, at the ceiling of the mountain. Beautiful embroidered banners hang outside his door, decorated in the same insignia that he wears upon his belt—the insignia of the First House of Darkfell.

The lights—the magical lamps that are so prevalent here—are on just outside his home. The double doors of metal open automatically to let us in, and then we’re inside Nemeth’s home. He sets me down gently, pressing a kiss atop my head, and then moves about the chamber, tapping lights to illuminate the inside.

And what an interior.

I’m not entirely surprised to see the massive shelf of books that immediately catches my eye. What I am surprised to see is that his home is built upward instead of outward, like human homes are. The bottom floor is a visiting area with a receptiontable and several backless chairs near a cold hearth. Up on the next level, I see a small dining area, and above that a workroom of some kind. I cannot see the very top of the house from my vantage point, but I assume that it’s the bedroom. Everything is neat and tidy and screams of familial wealth. The walls are hung with silken drapes that cascade from the high ceiling, and delicate mosaics cover the floor. My feet rest upon a circle of brightly colored fish, and the wall across from me looks like a depiction of the three gods, with jeweled offering bowls set in front of each visage.

Of course the bookshelves stretch all the way to the ceiling. This is Nemeth’s home, after all.

Of course there are no stairs. This place was made for winged people.

As if he can read my mind, Nemeth glides down to my side and lands with a thump. “Do not be alarmed, Candra. I will have workmen come and build stairs for you immediately.” He takes my hand in his. “Until then, you’ll be safe in my bedroom. There is a garderobe and a bathing chamber on that level as well.”

I manage a nod. Fatigue overwhelms me, and I want to ask him a dozen questions but I’m so tired that I can’t think straight. All I can do is clutch his oversized hand tightly. “You found me.”

Nemeth shakes his head, his jaw tight. He skims the back of one knuckle on my cheek. “They bruised you.”

“I’ll live.”

His throat works. “When I found the boat empty, I thought…I thought perhaps you’d fallen over. That I’d lost you for good.”

Oh. I can’t imagine how horrible it’s been for him. “I’m glad you decided to look inside the mountain.”

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