Page 25 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

I open my mouth to speak and it thunders again. His grip tightens on me, his gaze going to the ceiling. Aw. “It’s a storm,” I say gently. “A thunderstorm. A loud one, granted, but still a thunderstorm. We’re entering the season of storms. Do you not have that where you live?”

In the light of my candle, I see his thick gray throat work. “You…this is normal? We are not being attacked?”

“It’s a very loud storm but no, we are not being attacked.”

The rain pounds against the stone walls and he flinches. He doesn’t let go of me, either.

I’m acutely aware of my candle burning, and I know I have to save it, but I also don’t want to abandon Nemeth when he’s clearly feeling vulnerable and doing his best to hide it. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll stay here as your hostage until it stops, all right?”

His gaze focuses on me. “You would…do that?”

“I have the time,” I tell him with a wry smile. I blow out my candle and then hold my hand out to him.

Absolute darkness falls once more, but his green eyes blink at me. “You want to sit in the dark?”

“I’m being conservative with my candles,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know that I’m down to two. “Where do you want to sit?”

He makes a sound in his throat and takes my hand in his larger one. A Fellian’s hands are massive, I realize. It’s like an enormous paw swallowing mine as he holds my fingers. Nemeth leads me forward a step or two, and then my leg bumps into a bed frame.

Oh. My face gets hot. I didn’t think about the implications of being in the dark and in his bed with him. “Sit on the edge?” I ask brightly. “Or do you have a chair?”

“A stool,” he says. “But not enough seating for both of us.”

I nod and feel my way down to the edge of the bed and sit, clasping my hands around my candle the moment he lets go of me. His large form sinks down next to me, and when thunder rumbles again, shaking the tower, something warm and leathery skims over my shoulders. A wing.

He jerks when thunder rumbles once more, shaking the bed with his movements. I set my candle to my side and offer my hand to him. “Are storms not like this where you live?”

Nemeth takes my hand in his again. “I live deep inside a mountain. I guess it is muffled where I am.” He pauses. “You are sure we have nothing to worry over?”

“I’m sure.” I pause, then add, “Now poor Balon might have a devil of a time returning to Lios, but we’re fine.”

That elicits a laugh from my companion, and I smile.

“I suppose you think me foolish,” he says after a time. “For thinking we were being attacked.”

“Not at all,” I lie, glad that I’m able to keep a straight face. “I imagine with all the training you received on how to handle living here, it didn’t cover everything. My maid forgot to tell me how to clean my laundry. She was in such a rush that we weren’t able to cover everything, but I think I’ve been managing fairly well. If you notice my gowns are excessively wrinkled, though, please do not point it out. Wrinkles were definitely not covered in my book.”

“A book?” he asks. “You have a book?”

“I do.” I pause for a moment, wondering how much he knows about Meryliese and her untimely death. “My sister was supposed to be the one to come to the tower. Meryliese was an acolyte at the Alabaster Citadel and had trained all her life in preparation for her time in the tower. But when she was on her way here, her ship sank and everyone died. I was told three days before that I was to be the one to come here. I’m not used to looking after myself so my maid made me a book with as much information as she could squeeze into it in such a short period of time.”

“I am sorry about your sister.”

“Me too. I barely knew her, but I’m sorry that I’m trapped here. I’m not supposed to be, and it’s hard to move past the resentment.”

“And you are sick.”

“Yes.” I don’t say more about that. He’s still the enemy, even if we’re holding hands in the darkness.

“The fop that visits you. He was your betrothed?”

I snort. “Balon wasnotmy betrothed.”

“He is a fop, though.”

It’s terrible of me, but I giggle. “He’s young. Hopefully he will grow out of it. And no, definitely not my betrothed. He was just…a diversion.”

“I see.” His tone indicates that he doesn’t see at all.

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