Page 121 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“I’m worried about you,milettahn.” Nemeth doesn’t let go of me. “If you’re sick…”

“I’m sure it’s just the weather,” I lie. I need to ask my knife questions, to make sure Nemeth won’t be upset that I’m pregnant. I don’t want him to feel I lied or that I’m using him. Or worse, trapping him at my side.

I have to tell him today, for better or for worse. I just need to find the right moment.

Not right now, I decide. I need to gather my courage first. Because if Nemeth is furious with me, I don’t know what I’ll do.

We findanother abandoned town close to sunset. This one is bigger than the last, but just as empty. We call out, looking for anyone that lives nearby, but our searching is fruitless. The only thing we find is a recently deceased cow, stiff legs stuck in the mud. It looks skinny and unhealthy enough that we avoid going near it. The one bright point in this town? No dead Fellians.

Nemeth picks out a small house in the midst of a cluster of houses. It’s got a decent thatched roof, and when we step inside, the never-ending rain isn’t pouring from the ceiling. “We’ll stay here tonight,” he tells me.

I’m too tired and soaked to protest. As weird as it is to think of spending the evening in a stranger’s bed, it’s warm and dry and that’s all I care about. Nemeth barricades the door and covers the windows, latching the creaky wooden shutters. Strangely enough, I find being boxed in like this comforting. It reminds me a bit of the tower and its thick, impenetrable walls.

“We can’t make a fire tonight, Candra,” my mate tells me. “With our luck, the rain would clear and then everyone would see our chimney smoking.” He digs through a trunk at the foot of one of the beds. “There are plenty of blankets, though. We can spread out our clothes and hope they dry a bit.”

I don’t need to be told twice. As Nemeth pulls out one of his lamps and taps it to turn it on, I strip off my soaked layers. The room is frigid—two days of rain has made the air chilly and unpleasant—and I shiver as I wrap myself in a musty wool blanket. I sit on the bed and watch as Nemeth spreads out our possessions around the cottage, trying to dry out everything. Our foodstuffs are a pathetically small bundle, but I know fromchecking the cottages that there’s no food here. There’s no food anywhere.

As if he can read my mind, Nemeth comes to my side with a sodden bit of traveling cake, full of the last of our nuts. He holds it out to me. “Eat this. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“Neither have you,” I point out, but I take it from him.

The traveling cake iswet and unpleasant in my hand, and I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want to eat it, but I know I have to eat something. Without food in my stomach, my medicine will make me dizzy. And I’m carrying a child…

Gingerly, I take a small, mushy bite. “Yum yum.”

Satisfied that I’m eating, he turns back to the table and continues spreading out our supplies to dry. “It’ll be less wet in the morning, but you can’t wait that long between meals. This is hard enough on you as it is.”

On…me? We’re in this together. It’s hard for both of us. I eye him skeptically as I take another wet bite. “Do you think everyone’s gone because of the war?”

Nemeth pauses, thinking. “It seems doubtful. A benevolent ruler might let his people know that they’d be safe behind the protected walls of his capital. Does that seem like something Lionel would do?”

Lionel? Benevolent? The thought is ludicrous. “I once watched Lionel grind a piece of crust under his boot just so the poor wouldn’t have a scrap from the king’s plate.”

“So that’s a no.” Nemeth turns to me with a wry look.

“It’s definitely a no.” I glance around me, at the small house. It’s no more than two rooms, but they’re tidy rooms. Whoever lived here before was proud of their home. The wooden shutters over the windows are carved and the quilt on the bed is clearly the result of many hours of tedious work. “Why would someone leave their home behind? With all their things?”

“Perhaps they did not have a choice.” Nemeth shrugs off his cloak and hangs it over the back of a chair.

“So…that has to be the war, right?”

“If the war called up the men, why are the women and children not here? Where are the elders? The infirm?” Nemeth shakes his head. “Something has happened and everyone has left this place behind.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s the rains,” I grumble, hugging the blanket closer to my chest. “Nothing can grow in the fields when everything’s a mud pit. But the goddess wouldn’t have cast her wrath down on anyone until we left the tower, and that was just a few days ago. These people have been gone for a while.” I run my finger on the edge of the bed frame and the dust there. “Maybe it’s food. Remember the men that came to the tower?”

Nemeth turns and arches a brow at me. His scarred wing flicks.“I have not forgotten.”

“Right. Sorry.” I give him an apologetic little smile. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

“I like hearing it. Your voice is always a pleasant one.” He moves to the far side of the table and unhooks his belt, removing his sodden kilt. “Continue.”

I watch him undress, distracted. “Those men came looking for food. They knew we had some and were willing to try and steal it from us. And then after that, we got no supplies. Maybe there was no food to bring us? Maybe everyone’s been hungry and that’s why they’re all gone.”

Nemeth considers for a moment. “War would definitely slow down trade, and if there was a blockade, I could see food not getting through. And then we have the weather.” He wrings out the edge of his cloak, and water spatters all over the floor. “But if that’s what has happened, where did all these people flee to in the hopes that they would be fed?”

I think. “They would assume the capital has food. That’s where I’d go. Just show up and even if the king won’t feed me, I’d hope someone else would. My sister Erynne is always complaining that there are people showing up from far-flung countries with their hands out.”

His brow furrows. “Your sister does not sound much better than her husband.”

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