Page 95 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

I think of Meryliese, and how I never wrote her a single letter, and feel just a smidge of guilt.

“Who do you think will be here first?” I ask Nemeth, picking up my stack of letters and turning to regard him. “Darkfell’s suppliers or Lios?” I gasp as a new thought occurs to me. “Oh, I hope they don’t run into each other. That will be quite ugly.” I get a terrifying mental image of the two parties warring on the beach, and our supplies abandoned mere steps away from the tower. “We have to keep them apart.”

“Do not borrow trouble,milettahn. They will avoid each other. Darkfell will make certain of that.” Nemeth rises from the bed and puts on his favorite kilt. “They are familiar with how this works.”

“Yes, but if they both come on the same day…” I pause, realizing what he’s saying without being obvious. “More magic, then?”

He nods. “There are simple spells to observe others. Darkfell will ensure they do not run into Lios’s contingent.”

I eye my mate, leaning against the table. I never ask about magic, because other than lighting a candle or two, he avoids doing it in my presence, as if it’ll frighten me. Which is just plain silly, because I don’t understand magic, but that doesn’t mean I’m scared of it. Most of the spells he’s mentioned seem to have a practical use of some kind. “You’re going to have to teach me some of these simple spells.”

He gives me a fanged grin, eyeing my half-laced breasts. “They only work if you’ve got magic in your blood, I’m afraid.”

I sigh dramatically, toying with the laces, because I do so love to flirt. “And here I am with cursed blood, alas.”

“Alas,” Nemeth murmurs, watching me as I tease a finger over my cleavage. “Magic requires intensive studying, and you are too busy anyhow.”

“Too busy?” I laugh. “Too busy doing what?”

He rumbles low in his chest as he slinks to my side, all dark wings and big slabs of gray muscle. Nemeth reaches for my laces, brushing a finger over my breasts as he does. “Busy with kissing your mate…taking his knot…licking his knot…”

“Truly, a packed schedule,” I agree, fluttering my lashes. Then I mock-pout. “But I have had no knot today.”

“Because with my luck, I will be balls deep inside you and they will come knocking at our door.” He slides a finger into thefront of my dress, finding my nipple and teasing it. “And how shall I explain that I am knotted inside a human princess?”

“Perhaps I’m a particularly wicked human that seduced you. After years of me begging you for sex, you finally gave in. It’s not so very far from the truth.” I lean back, giving him full access to my breasts.

But Nemeth frowns at my words. “I would not have you slander yourself to my people.”

Aw. “Is it slander if it all sounds wonderfully naughty?”

He pinches my nipple, sending ripples of heat through my body. “You are my mate,” he chastises. “I would have you respected.”

It’s getting dreadfully hard to concentrate when he’s teasing me like that. “Nemeth, they can’t know I’m your mate.”

“Even so. I do not like the thought of anyone thinking poorly of you.” He frowns at the thought. “You are a Vestalin and a princess, and you deserve respect, even if it’s the respect of Fellians.” With that, he pulls his hand from my bodice and reaches for the laces, this time to tie them. “And that means we must save our playing for later.”

I want to pout again, but I know he’s right. If we want to keep receiving food from our respective peoples, it’s best that no one looks too closely at our relationship. That we be seen as enemies, separate and co-existing in the tower in our own spaces. It sounds like it should be easy to do, and yet I find that the more time passes, the more intertwined we become. Denying that feels wrong.

Nemeth finishes lacing my corset and I reach in, adjusting my breasts as I always do so they look optimal. “Will you braid my hair for me? I want to look perfect. Maybe a crown looping around my head? The men Lios sent last year were absolute beasts, and I want them to remember that I’m a princess when they talk to me.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I can do that for you, of course.”

Chapter

Fifty-One

Ashort time later, my hair is braided perfection, my dress sleeves are laced and puffed artfully, and I feel every bit the princess I am. Nemeth has dressed more casually, wearing only his kilt and a knife at his waist. I’m full of excitement as I slip my shoes on, picking up one of the lamps. “Do you suppose the dead men are still out on the shore? Their presence is a little horrifying, but at the same time, I feel they’re an excellent deterrent for others that might want to rob us. Still, I don’t want anyone scared away at the sight of a couple of bodies upon our doorstep.”

“They know their duty to us,” Nemeth replies. “They will not be frightened away.”

I know he’s right. It’s just that I’m so very excited for the influx of food and supplies. It’s like a Feastday celebration, and we have so little to celebrate or to change the monotonous passage of time that this feels momentous. Even so, I’m surprised when Nemeth moves toward the hearth and picks up his favorite stool. “Where are you taking that?”

“Downstairs.” His mouth curves into a knowing smile. “I imagine you standing by the doors waiting, listening for our supplies, and I thought a seat might serve you better.”

“Bend down so I can give you a kiss,” I tell him, beaming. “You clever, delightful man.”

He’s not wrong, though. I’m fluttering with anticipation, my heart beating rapidly as we head down the stairs and toward the double doors that are the only way in and out of this tower. Will we be given more supplies this time? Will it be different than last year’s batch? Will there be new letters to read and pore over? I clutch my stack of letters to my chest, wondering how we’ll be greeted this time. Rude soldiers or polite ones? What will we tell them if they want to know about the bodies outside?

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