Page 37 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

Twenty-Four

It’s a slow, lazy day, the first I’ve enjoyed in a long time. Nemeth refuses to let me help him make dinner, and he cooks a thick stew of dried meat and mushrooms over the fire. I’m told to stay in bed and rest, and he gives me his book to “enjoy” as he tends to the food.

I flip through the pages, frowning. “There’s no pictures in this. And the words are so tiny. Are you really reading all this or are you just pretending to?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and low and does quivering things to my belly. “What is the point in pretending to read a book? Clearly it doesn’t impress you. Next time we’ll ask for books with more pictures.”

I regard him as he stands near the fire. “Are you trying to impress me, then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, princess.”

He doesn’t turn around, though, and I wonder if he’s done other things to impress me. Things like taking apart my sled for firewood, perhaps, or giving me one of his precious magical lights. Here I’ve been too obsessed with thinking of him as the enemy to think of him as a lonely man first and foremost.

A lonely man can be controlled by his needs. I wonder if I should try and pull Nemeth under my thumb, to make him fall in love with me. It’d be diverting to seduce him and keep him begging for my favors, but it also seems rather callous, considering he’s already offered to share his supplies with me and nursed me while I was sick.

I’m just…not used to having a male friend. The men I know are courtiers, who want to get in my bed for a quick fling or want an alliance with my house. They want to use me to get close to the king or Erynne. No one ever just wants to get to know me simply because of me. No one spends time with me because they want to. It’s all because of what I can do for them.

I flip through his book idly, not reading any of it. I’m not a scholar. Reading is difficult for me unless I concentrate, and the thought of staring at a book with such tiny lettering makes my head hurt. I watch Nemeth instead. “Tell me about your life back home.”

“So you can pass it on to your people? You’ll forgive me if I decline.” He stirs the food. “Not too much longer now.”

I make a face at his back. “Not about that sort of thing. Tell me about your family. Do you have one?”

“Me? No.” He continues to stir. “I have parents and siblings, but I will not speak of them to you due to the war. I do not have a wife of my own, or children, if that is what you are asking.” He sets the spoon down and glances back at me. “From a very early age I knew that my destiny would be this tower. My parents sent me off to the Alabaster Citadel so I might study under the priests there.”

I gasp in surprise. For some reason, I thought he’d spent all his life in the Darkfell mountain caverns. “The Alabaster Citadel? So you knew my sister? She was there, too!”

He is silent for a long moment. “I did know her, but only in passing.”

“What was she like?”

Nemeth turns to look at me. “You didn’t know?”

I shake my head. “She was sent off when we were young and I only have the vaguest of memories of her. What was she like? Was she happy?” Oh, I hope she was happy. It hurts me to think that she might have had a miserable life cut short. I’ve always had to deal with my blood curse, but overall, my life has been a joyous one. “Please tell me what you recall.”

He pauses and considers this for a moment, then picks up a pair of bowls and begins to dish out the stew. “As I said, I only knew her in passing. We were kept apart because of the strain between our countries. The priests at the Alabaster Citadel didn’t want discord there. I remember her as being tall, with dark hair and pale skin. Big eyes. Quiet. She liked to sing the morning hymns with the priests.”

Oh. I take the bowl he offers me and picture my sister. Someone with Erynne’s face and form, singing and happy. I sniff at the thought, missing Erynne desperately—and the sister I never had a chance to know.

He holds a spoon out to me, a wary look on his face. “Are you crying?”

“What? No. Absolutely not. Piss off.” I rub a finger under my nose. “I’ve just got a tickle.”

Nemeth grunts. He sits and eats, while I compose myself, and he doesn’t push me on the fact that I sniff again. I’ll cry tomorrow when I’m alone, I decide. I’ll think about Meryliese then, and if she had a happy, fulfilled life. To think that Nemeth knew my sister and I did not. “So you spent a long time at the Alabaster Citadel?”

He nods. “I actually had dreams of becoming a monk there at one point. I liked the thought of spending my life working on books.”

“A monk?” I make a face at him, and then giggle. “To think that they stuck me in here with a monk!” It explains why he was so frozen at the sight of me bathing…and why he touches himself in secret instead of flirting with me.

“I do not see what is so amusing about that,” Nemeth says in a stiff voice.

“It’s funny because I’m not the most virtuous of princesses,” I say, tapping his arm with my unused spoon. “Back at court, I was known as a bit of a flirt and a rather determinedly frivolous sort. King Lionel was very vexed by me.” I smirk. “I don’t think he was sad to see me go.”

“King Lionel is a monster.”

“On that, we are agreed,” I say cheerfully. I put my spoon into my food, stirring it, and then take a tiny bite. Delicious. “You’re a good cook, by the way. This is far better than anything I’ve made.”

“I had years in which to practice my skills.”

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