Page 109 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

I modify my dresses for travel as best I can. I’m not good with a needle, but I know how to make stitches at least, and so I raise the hems of my simplest dresses to above the ankles, so the skirts won’t drag in the mud. I remove expensive, flashy-looking ribbons and embroidery. I extend the laces in the bodice, thinking of the child growing in my belly. How soon does a Fellian pregnancy show? I still haven’t told Nemeth. I don’t know when the right time will be, but right now he’s frustrated and worried, and he doesn’t sleep at night. He’s anxious over leaving the tower—we both are.

In addition to angering the goddess, I’m worried there will be mobs of people waiting with pitchforks to tear us apart.

“We’ll go to your people first,” Nemeth tells me. “I’ll ask for asylum in their lands. I’ll tell them I’ve defected and I want to join your kingdom.”

I think of cruel King Lionel, who wants to destroy all of Darkfell. Of my sister, Erynne, who has urged me over and over again to kill Nemeth. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“It might not be, but it’s the surest way to get your potion in your hands quickly. This fenugreek herb? The aloe vera? They do not grow under the mountains. We must trade with outsiders to get such things.” He’s silent for a moment. “And…I am not sure I trust my people to get them for us. Not after they’ve abandoned us and left us to starve.” He holds me close. “At least if we go to your people, I know you’re safe.”

“But what about you?”

“I can take care of myself.” He presses a kiss to my brow. “If I am not welcomed, I will go.”

I shake my head. “If you’re not welcomed, I’m going with you.”

“We will take it one day at a time,” Nemeth promises me. “But first, we must get more potion for you. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

As the days crawl forward and our plans are almost to completion, I spend a lot of time at the altar downstairs. I’ve never been the most religious…or actually religious at all. But knowing that we’re flagrantly disobeying the goddess feels dangerous. I kneel before the altar and clasp my hands in front of me, and my prayers are full of apologies.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “We can’t stay, and I’m sorry. I know we’re not your children—I’m human and we’re the children of the Absent God, and Fellians are the children of the Gray God. I’m not sure you have children. But if you did, I can’t imagine that you would want us to starve to death in your honor. Back when you had names, the Golden Moon Goddess was supposed to be a goddess of love, a goddess of families and affection.” I hesitate. “And I’m pregnant. My baby doesn’t deserve to die here because our people have betrayed us. So please, please understand.”

The goddess on the triptych doesn’t answer. That’s not surprising. No one ever answers a human’s prayers, but I prayanyhow. I know Nemeth does, too, but if he’s answered, he doesn’t tell me. We pray, and we leave food offerings with the gods, because we know we’re going to be disobedient.

But we’re going anyhow. There’s no choice in Nemeth’s mind, and I’m not going to let him go without me.

Chapter

Fifty-Seven

No one arrives with food to rescue us. I’m not surprised, but at the same time, I’m disappointed. I had hoped for an easy solution, one that would take the choice out of our hands.

Our bags are packed, our clothing ready. We pick the last of the mushrooms from Nemeth’s mushroom “farm” and stew them for dinner. It almost feels like too much food, and then I’m reminded that we’ve been carefully rationing for a long time. Tomorrow, that all changes.

I’m terrified of tomorrow.

That night, we crawl into bed together, in sheets we’re going to have to leave behind, our heads resting upon fluffy pillows that will also be abandoned for whoever is in this tower next. Our packs are laden mostly with food and necessities—a change of clothes for traveling, a heavy cloak, and not much else. I’ve sewn some of my jewelry—hairpins and earrings, mostly—into the hem of my cloak, just in case we need coin. I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow, and I suspect Nemeth cannot, either. He drags me on top of him and teases my breasts until I’m whimpering, then seats me atop his cock. I rock to my climax above him and then force myself down on his knot, sheathinghim inside my body and locking us together. When he’s pulsing inside me, his knot hard, he flips us over and then I’m under him, my mate’s small thrusts filling me with his spend. Nemeth presses kisses to the top of my head as we drowse, limbs entwined, bodies joined. He strokes my skin, over and over, and I don’t know if he’s trying to reassure me or himself.

“Are you ready to do this?” I ask him in a soft voice.

I don’t have to explain what I’m asking about. We’re both thinking of the same thing. “I am committed,” Nemeth says.

“Is that the same thing?”

“Does it matter?” He gives me a wry smile. “It has the same results.”

My heart feels full, achingly so. To think that he’s willing to do this for me, to doom himself (and possibly others) just to save me. I wrap my arms tightly around him and squeeze my inner walls around his cock, wanting to demonstrate everything that I’m feeling. I don’t have words for how much I love him. I’ve never been good with words.

But I can demonstrate a little. At least tonight.

Nemeth wakesme from sleep with a caress to my cheek. “Candra.”

I’m immediately awake, my senses alert. It’s dark, but as I rouse, Nemeth reaches over the bed and taps the light once to turn it on. The shadowy room fills with faint light. “Is it time?”

He nods and slides out of bed, his wings tucked against his back as he gets to his feet. Normally Nemeth would stretch, letting his wings ripple outward as he yawns off the last of his slumber. Today though, he seems just as restless and uneasy as me. I didn’t sleep very well last night, constantly on edge.Worried for the dawn even as I waited for it, and I know Nemeth felt the same.

It’s here now, and there’s no avoiding our fates.

My big, handsome mate offers his hand to me. “Can you sit up? How is your stomach this morning?”

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