Page 119 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“I’m so glad.” I could burst with how happy I am for him. “I knew you could do it.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he admits. “I’m not strong enough yet to carry you, and we have to be careful. If any humans see me, they might shoot first and ask questions later.” He straightens to his full height. “Speaking of humans, I saw a settlement to the north. We should head there.”

“What? Why?” Hot panic flares in my chest. “Didn’t you just say humans would attack you? If there’s a settlement, I’m thinking we should avoid it entirely.”

Nemeth shakes his head. “You need supplies for your potion. We need food. You need better shoes. We need a decent place to sleep. And if it’s a small settlement, perhaps we should test the waters anyhow. See how they react to my presence.”

“There’s a war,” I blurt out. “A war between Darkfell and Lios. Lionel started one the moment I left. You can’t go into a human settlement, Nemeth. You just can’t.” This entire plan suddenly seems the height of stupidity. What made me think I could just stroll back to Castle Lios with a Fellian at my side and assume it would all be fine? I’ve got an enemy husband…and a baby on the way. The thought of something happening to either of them is horrifying.

This is a nightmare. Why didn’t I think this through? Why am I taking him to a war zone where he’s the enemy?

I grab his hands, frantic. “We should go to your people instead. We can still go back. We’ll return to the tower and head to Darkfell?—”

“Love,” Nemeth says softly. “I know all about the war.”

My tongue glues to the roof of my mouth. “You…do?”

He nods. “Your king is not the most subtle of rulers. Of course we saw his fleet, and knew he was waiting for the right moment to sail after Darkfell. My people were ready for him. He will not win.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how I feel about that. Part of me hates Lionel—the same part of me that loves Nemeth—but Lios is my home. My sister is its queen. A small part of me still wants them to win, resents the idea that they might lose to Darkfell.

But then I remind myself that Erynne wanted Nemeth killed, and all of my hesitation falls away. “You’re not mad I didn’t say anything?”

He shakes his head, rubbing my hands. “I know what it is like. You and I come from very different peoples who have set expectations upon us.” His expression grows vague, sad. “I am certain there will be other things that arise that we have kept from one another.”

Is he referring to the baby? The fact that the knife says that I have Fellian blood in my veins?

“But come. Let us see who is in this settlement. If they try to attack, I will fly out of reach. You will be safe—they would not dare harm their princess.” He pulls me to my feet atop the rock. “And we need supplies.”

Chapter

Sixty-One

My head is full of the old stories as we approach the village. Every Vestalin knows all the stories of those that lived in the tower, of the Royal Offerings from times past. I think of all the tales of those that left the tower early, and the angry mobs that met them. I used to side with the angry villagers, too. What sort of selfish piece of dragon shite would abandon the tower, knowing they were condemning the entire world to famine and flood?

But nowIam that selfish piece of dragon shite.

And I really do not want to be killed by pitchfork-wielding villagers.

We wear our heavy cloaks despite the steamy heat of the afternoon, just so we can try to hide Nemeth’s wings until the last moment. I keep my magical blade tight in my hand, just in case I need to stab someone for threatening my mate.

All my worry is for nothing—the village is deserted.

No one comes out to greet us. The fields we pass are fallow and overgrown with weeds. There are no cattle, no dogs, not even a single scurrying rat to cross the muddy streets. There are no crops, and the only vegetation other than weeds is a sapling at the far end of town. It’s completely empty, and what’s worse,it looks as if it’s been empty for a while. The thatched roofs are falling in and a broken cart in the middle of the street looks long-abandoned.

There won’t be any food here.

In a way, I’m relieved. Nemeth lowers his hood, exposing the sharp planes of his gray face and his horns, so there must be no one here to see that he’s Fellian. “Abandoned.”

“Looks like,” I agree, and gesture at the three small altars to the gods nearby. They’re overgrown and covered in windblown dirt, just like the last ones. “I don’t think whoever lived here left recently, either.”

“Then they won’t mind if we search for food,” Nemeth tells me. “Let’s check these houses for anything we can use.”

It feels wrong to even consider it, but I know he’s being practical. If it was left behind, it’s fair game. Our supplies must be running lower than I thought. It starts to rain again, a heavy downpour, and we wordlessly split up to look around.

I duck into the first house. I would have called it a hovel back in my court days, but I’ve got a new appreciation for rough living after my time in the tower. Despite the fact that these people didn’t have much, everything is put away. There are no plates on the table, and the lone, sad-looking bed is made. There’s no food to be found, either. I check in every pot. I check the root cellar. Nothing. The next house is much the same, and bewildered, I head out to find Nemeth. He stands in the center of the cluster of houses despite the heavy rain, his gaze thoughtful.

“There’s nothing here,” I say to him as I approach. I pull my hood over my head, annoyed by the constant rain pattering on my face. “No food. No people. They didn’t leave in a hurry, either. They’re just…gone.”

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