Page 64 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“Even a proposal from a Fellian,” Nemeth muses. “I understand.”

“Do you?” I study him. “I’ve never been in control of my fate. Not as a woman, not as a Vestalin. The only reason I didn’t have to marry those seventeen men that proposed was because the court astrologer said they would have no children if they married me. It was never my choice, understand? Even as the cursed Vestalin, I still would have been made to marry. The only thing I have ever had control over is my body, and who I share it with. Must I give that up so easily, simply because I am fond of you and want to touch you?”

“I understand,” he says again, his expression somber. “You might think I do not, but I do understand what it is like for your life not to be your own.”

I realize what he means—that he is of the First House of Darkfell, and thus a Royal Offering. He is a prince of his people. Perhaps he does understand. I reach for his hand and grip it in mine. “Then you know in a world without freedoms, those that we have are more precious than ever.”

Nemeth smiles at me, his expression slightly sad. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, then hands me the soap. “I do. And I must think on it. Can you finish your bath without me?”

And then he disappears into the shadows, melting away and leaving me alone in the room with my tepid bath, which is far less exciting now that I’m alone.

Hmph. “You could have at least stayed to watch me soap my breasts,” I call out. “Being horny is not a crime.”

There is no answer.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Ihead upstairs after I’ve finished bathing, the tub emptied of its water and my soap carefully put away. I hold the light that Nemeth left for me, and when I get to his rooms, I find him in there, reading a book. He gives me a distracted smile, kisses my palm, and then returns to reading. It’s obvious that he needs some time to himself, to pick through his thoughts.

That’s fine. I have two more letters to dig through. They sit on the corner of the bed, and I glance over at Nemeth. “Should I go upstairs? Give you some privacy to think?”

He looks up at me in surprise and blinks those strange eyes at me. Then he shakes his head. “No. I should like for you to stay.” The smile he gives me is a little shy, a little uncertain. “I prefer you here.”

I beam back at him, pleased. Impulsively, I go to his side, to the stool he has near the cold fireplace, and I fling my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “No matter what you decide, Nemeth, we are friends. Understand?”

Big arms go around me and he holds me close. “You are right. Let us be friends first and foremost. I keep forgetting that we are here for the next six years. That we have many, many days and months to live through before we worry about the outsideworld.” And he squeezes me tight, as if in an apology. “Forgive me for thinking too much.”

“I never have that problem,” I tease, and I’m rewarded with a chuckle from him.

He hugs me again, pulling me closer. I love the feel of his arms around me and soI press his head to my bosom and hug him like I would a child, stroking the horns that sweep back from his brow.

Nemeth immediately stiffens, his body growing tense against me.

Oh. I’ve done something improper, I suspect. I pull back, lifting my hands. “I’m sorry. Is touching your horns bad?”

“It is…a strong sort of touch.” His voice is tight.

Oh dragon shite, he’s told me that before, hasn’t he? And I’ve completely forgotten. “As in, not the sort of touch a friend gives a friend. I’m so sorry.”

Nemeth nods at me and lets me go. I’m left feeling vaguely disappointed and sad that he doesn’t pursue things more. That he doesn’t fling me down onto the bed and fuck me until stars burst behind my eyes.

He needs for this to be a true marriage between us—a mating, as he calls it—but I am Liosian.

If I choose him, I lose everything the moment I get out of this awful tower.

I’m not sure I’m ready to make that choice yet. Picking up my letters, I move back to the bed and sit down to read. Nemeth retrieves his book, opens it to a page, and starts reading.

It’s quiet between us, and it’s not a comfortable quiet in the slightest.

The lettersfrom Nurse and Riza are less guilt-inducing than Erynne’s letter. Both of them are sweet and full of worry over me, and they tell me all about Erynne and court—what the latest fashions are, who recently got married, and who inherited a fortune. They tell me of Allionel and his baby activities, and it’s clear that both of them adore him. It seems like the entire court does. I read their letters multiple times over the next several days while Nemeth makes careful lists of meals we can make that will stretch our food and firewood.

I offer to help him with it, but he has a workbook he pores over, numbers he moves back and forth, and I give up trying to assist. He has a system worked out, and I’m just slowing him down. I read my letters again and again instead, as Nemeth’s food supply is delivered in much the same way as mine. I expected them to deliver it through magical means, since they have lights that shine without fuel and the ability to meld their bodies with the shadows, but Nemeth assures me this is not infallible. To move through the shadows, one must see where they are going, and with a wall in the way, no one can trust where to arrive.

Plus, they are not allowed to step foot inside the tower, and he is not allowed to go out.

When they arrive on the Solstice (as planned), I have to hide upstairs from the Fellians. Hiding in the shadows and watching isn’t enough, because they can see in the dark. It makes me feel like I’m being punished even if I know Nemeth’s request is reasonable. I sit upstairs and read through my letters for the dozenth time as Nemeth waits downstairs for his supplies.

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