Page 126 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“Can you sit up?” one of the men asks, a concerned look on his face. They’re being decent despite the fact that they just ate the last of our food. They even covered me in a blanket.

I manage to nod and struggle to sit upright. “Who…are you?”

“Might ask the same question of you,” one of the men says, licking crumbs off his fingers.

The answer is an obvious one. “I was looking for food. My supplies are almost gone.” I eye the table, where nothing remains. “Aregone.”

He glances at the doorway, and I’m dismayed when a third man joins them. The newcomer looks just as thin and unkempt as the others, but this one watches me with a burning gaze, as if he could stare holes through the blanket covering my nudity. He’s got a long blond beard with two braids in the scraggly ends, and he strokes those braids as he sits down in one of the chairs, his muddy boots tracking all over the floors. “No one else.”

All three men focus on me again, their gazes skeptical and wary. “You’re here alone?” one asks.

The implication in the man’s tone is obvious. What’s a weak, soft thing like you doing here alone? I don’t want to tell them about Nemeth, so I decide to edge close to the truth again. “I had a companion with me, but…I think he left. Abandoned me when I got sick from hunger.”

The first man grunts, satisfied. “Happens a lot nowadays.”

“Even to a princess?” says the one with the braided beard.

I stiffen, clutching the blanket tight. The other men eye me speculatively. “I didn’t say I was a princess.”

He gestures at my hair. “You got the dark hair and the green eyes like the queen.”

What do I say to that? I lick my lips, silent. “My name is Candra,” I finally say, since I can’t seem to get the upper hand. “You’re right.”

He narrows his gaze at me. “You the one that’s supposed to be in the tower?”

The room feels positively chilly, their stares blistering. That tells me everything I need to know. “Nope,” I say brightly. “I’mthe sick one. You’ll find my vials of medicine on the table there. Meryliese is the one that’s in the tower even now.”

The two relax, but the one with the long beard continues to stroke it, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Thought she died.”

“You heard wrong. I hugged her goodbye even as she stepped into the tower.” I sell the lie with a determined expression. “I think I would know if my sister was dead.”

I hope they don’t ask more questions. I hope no one points out that the weather is awful—even now it’s raining again—and that I’ve been gone from court for years. But the one that offered me water grunts, gesturing over at the table. “She’s right about the medicine. I tried to drink one. Wasn’t sure if it was food or not. Tastes like shit.”

“It’s injected,” I say helpfully. “My kit is in my bag. The medicine keeps me alive.”

“There are two left,” he says. “That should last you a time, yes?”

Two left? That’s it? There were five yesterday. They must have destroyed more than they’re letting on, and one of the men looks so guilty I wonder if that’s the case. “I see.”

“If you’re the princess, you should go with us to the capital,” one says suddenly. “We’ll be rewarded for bringing you home safely.”

The other two perk up. “Rewarded?”

“She’s a princess, isn’t she? Rewarded,” he claims, nodding to himself.

Now they all watch me with speculative looks, no doubt seeing gold coins and feasts dancing in front of their eyes. Part of me wants to cry out that I can’t leave without Nemeth, but the survival instinct in me is strong…and I need more potion. “Yes. I need to return to the castle. Please take me.”

“It’s settled, then. We leave in the morning.” The braided-beard smiles. “To think we’ve been lucky enough to stumble upon a princess.”

“It’s your lucky day,” I agree. And my unlucky one.

Chapter

Sixty-Four

I’m allowed a few moments alone to quickly dress, and then one of the men sits with me at all times. They go through our bags, rifling through the small amount of possessions we took with us from the tower. The magical globe in its case is tossed aside, the case emptied and one of the men throws his filthy satchel inside it. My knife is snatched and claimed by Braid-Beard, tucked into his pocket. I don’t say anything, because if I tell them that they’re magical instruments, I’ll be looked at with suspicion. They tear through everything we have left, looking for food or things to barter, and when the bag doesn’t provide much, they hunt through the house and then the rest of the village again.

There’s no sign of Nemeth at all, and my heart grows heavier by the hour.

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