Page 135 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“Because the way to win a battle is to give the enemy nowhere to hide.”

Ah. Of course. And thus they must destroy the walls so the humans can’t huddle behind them. I think of Lionel, how smug he was when he forced me into the tower. So impatient, as if Iwas the only thing holding him back from his Great War, a war that would let him fill Lios’s coffers with Fellian riches. It was a pissing stupid war. No one in Lios needs Fellian land. No one wants to live under a mountain.

Lionel just wanted to fight. He wanted a battle. Glory.

And now my home, my beautiful city, is empty. Everyone is gone. No one comes out to see a Fellian and a human on a horse limping up the mud-slicked roads.

I suspect Lios is as empty as everywhere else. Empty…and everyone is gone.

At least the other places were just deserted. It was easy to assume everyone had simply fled in search of food or safety. As we approach the broken wall of Lios, a different story unfolds. The signs of war are everywhere. The grasses have been trampled and are gone. With nothing to anchor to, the horse slips and slides up the muddy path towards the city. Alongside the road I see discarded bits of armor and used arrows. There’s a helm here, with a massive hole upon the back, and over here a broken shield. A pretty altar to the gods has been destroyed and knocked over, the bushes uprooted and cast aside. As we head up the cliffs to Lios itself, I can look down in the harbor and see the broken remnants of a ship bobbing in the bay, and another one farther down.

The road leading to my beautiful city is covered in the detritus of war, and I suspect it’s not a war we won. If we’d won, someone would be here, right? There would be flags of victory. There would be people. There would be something other than this painful emptiness.

“You don’t burn your dead, do you?” Nemeth says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“No. We bury them so they can return to the earth that we were made from. We wait for the Absent God to return and call our spirits forth. Why?”

He gazes at what is left of the walls. “We have not seen graves. Perhaps that is a good sign?”

“If there are dead, they would be buried at the far end of the city,” I say. “On the sacred grounds behind the temple.”

“We can head there first, if you like? To see if there’s a reason no one is here?”

I shake my head. “I want to go to the palace first.”

The only inhabitantsof Castle Lios are rats.

They scurry across the detritus-covered floors, bold and unworried, as we step into the halls of the castle. The banners here that hung showing the proud bloodlines of the nobility have been torn from the walls, and the tapestries are cut to ribbons. Lionel’s golden throne is gone entirely, and my sister’s elegant wooden one has been chopped to pieces and left on the dais. The massive feasting tables in the dining hall are broken, the benches scattered, the fragile dishware a thousand pieces upon the ground. They crunch under my feet as I instinctively head towards the kitchens.

They, too, are empty, though there’s a foul smell here. It’s a smell of something dead, and I cover my nose with my wet sleeve even as Nemeth strides towards the root cellar. He opens the hatch and peers inside, then shakes his head. “Two bodies, and they’ve been there a long time. You don’t want to look.”

I swallow hard. “My sister always said the cook would defend her kitchen into death. I guess that’s true.” I think of my sister—and of Riza and Nurse—and I desperately hate that my knife is gone. I want to ask if they’re all right. I want to ask if they’re alive. I hate that I squandered the opportunity back when I had my knife, simply because I hated knowing the answers.

Not knowing is so much worse.

“I need to go upstairs,” I tell Nemeth, feeling faint. “I want to see my sister’s quarters. My quarters.”

“Are you all right?” He gestures to the door, to the horse we left outside. “Should I get our packs?—”

I shake my head, trembling. I’m not all right. Not by a long shot, but I still need to know. “I just need to see.” Because if I see Riza or Nurse’s dead body in my rooms, I might lose my fragile hold on sanity. It’s one thing to know that the goddess will be unhappy if we leave the tower. It’s another to see the realization of it and know we’re to blame to some extent.

Nemeth moves to my side, and I think at first that he’s going to stop me, or force me to sit down and rest. Instead, he snags me under the arms and flares his wings outward. He flies out of the great hall and down another corridor of the massive, empty palace. His flight isn’t even and I can tell he strains, but we’re in the air and soaring through the empty halls. I point out directions. To turn that way, to go up that flight of stairs. To head down another hall.

And then I see the double doors that used to be mine. One is smashed, as if kicked in, the gilt design on the wood smeared with mud and broken away. A terrified sound escapes my throat.

Nemeth sets me down on the floor. Even here, there are discarded pieces of armor and torn fabrics. Shattered furniture and pieces of wood are everywhere, as if someone hacked the beautiful palace apart. The carpet under my feet that runs down the long hall is dark with stains, and I remember its bright red color. It’s been destroyed, just like everything else. Even the ceiling—once dotted with beautiful stained glass—is now broken and rain drips down from above, as if the world around us is crying.

It feels appropriate.

I take a few steps towards my apartments, and then I’m running at a frantic speed, ignoring the squish of the wet carpets under my near-destroyed shoes. I want to go inside and see that this portion of my world hasn’t changed. I want to see my bed with its beautiful draperies and elegant pillows. I want to see the thick rugs and the cozy chairs I have near the fire. I want to see my trunks and dressers full of my gowns. Here, there should be something, shouldn’t there?

So I burst through the doors and skid to a halt, drinking in the sight of my once-bedroom.

It’s worse here than below. There’s a hole in the ceiling, the beams collapsed, and the rain floods in directly over my bed. The canopies are collapsed and ripped, and my mattress has been torn apart and shredded, the innards cast across the flooring and soaked. Every chest is opened, the contents destroyed. The chairs near the fire are gone; one is broken, and there’s a familiar-looking charred chair leg hanging out of the hearth that tells me the other was probably burned. All my beautiful things are destroyed, and there’s no trace of me here, nothing left that speaks of my old life.

Beyond numb, I race back out of the room and down the hall, towards Erynne’s rooms. I know she won’t be there. I know there won’t be anyone there, but I still have to see it for myself. I have to know.

The doors here have fallen from their hinges, blocking the way into the room. I rip one away, tossing it aside. The interior of Erynne’s room is just as wrecked as mine, the colorful glass in the big window broken and shattered, rain pouring inside. Ripped fabric is soaked and covered in mold, and the large imperial bed looks as if it was destroyed with an axe or three. I turn, looking for signs of my sister. Yes, she has betrayed me. Yes, she thinks of the kingdom before me.

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