Page 145 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

He pulls me closer, and I can smell his fetid breath. His pupils flick back and forth, studying me. “Who is your master?” he hisses. “Who showed you magic?”

Am I not supposed to know? “Nemeth showed me,” I say again. “In the tower?—”

My captor growls and flings me away. I skid across the cobbled floor, wincing when my head smacks against stone. That one’s going to leave a mark. I manage to pull myself upright, panting. “If you hurt me again, he’s going to kill you,” I warn. “He didn’t keep me alive for two years just for you to beat the stuffing out of me.”

“Female, I am warning you.” He points a claw at me. “Cease with your lip and get to your feet.”

If this cretin wanted me on my feet, then why’d he pull me off of them? With a huff of irritation, I stand up—and immediately get dizzy. I haven’t eaten since a few bites of fish this morning, and clearly my body has a problem with this. I shake a finger at the Fellian man. “Nemeth will not be happy about this.”

And then I pass out at his feet.

I wakeup with a foul taste in my mouth and a horrible headache. Groaning, I put a hand to my forehead and remain where I am, just in case the dizziness is lingering. There’s a rough blanket under me and it’s very quiet, so quiet I can hear the drip of watersomewhere nearby. Somewhere nearby, there’s a drag of chains and a low murmur of conversation.

Humanconversation.

It excites me so much I almost bolt upright again, so desperate to see the faces of my people. I never thought of myself as particularly patriotic until now, when I’ve lost everyone and everything. It takes everything I have to remain still, and I turn my head, looking at my new surroundings.

My captor is gone. That’s a good thing. He was getting far too rough and arrogant for my tastes. But his disappearance also means no one knows that I’m here, or that I’ve been asking for Nemeth. Panic later, I tell myself. Figure out where you are now. A quick glance around makes it obvious, though—I’m in the dungeon. The walls are narrow stone that enclose the thin pallet I’m lying upon, and there’s very little light to see by. I stretch an arm out and confirm my suspicions—with both arms extended, I can touch the sides of my cell at the same time. Near my feet, there’s a bucket, and the bucket is by the door, which has a window covered by a metal cross-hatch of bars. I crawl forward on my bed and gag at the smell of the bucket—this is clearly not the first time it’s been used for a toilet. I use the door to help me to my feet, leaning on it for balance, and press my face to the bars, desperate to hear more of those Liosian voices.

When I look out, I see a dark stone corridor, lined with more doors just like mine. I still hear voices, though, and as I watch, a pale arm reaches out of the mesh grid toward the next cell, only to be met with another hand. They pass something between them—a hunk of bread—and then quickly disappear again.

They were human, though. Those fingers weren’t tipped with claws.

“Hello?” I call out. “Let me out. Nemeth is looking for me.”

A large, heavy figure emerges from the shadows. I know from the sound of his wings that he’s a Fellian, even before those creepy green eyes meet mine. “Quiet, you.”

I ignore that, because quiet never got a girl anywhere. “Where exactly am I, kind sir?” I flutter my lashes at him and lick my lips in what I hope is an enticing manner. “I fear I’m lost.”

He swipes at the bars with his claws, making me yelp and surge backward. “You’ll listen to me when I tell you to be quiet, female.”

“But where am I?” I stay out of reach behind the bars on the door, just in case. “My name is Princess Candromeda Vestalin, and I’m looking for Prince Nemeth of the First House. He’ll be looking for me as well.”

The guard’s eyes narrow at me and he sneers. “So you’re royal, huh?”

“I am.” I try to look as dignified as possible.

“What if I told you all the royal wenches from Lios were busy sucking cock down at the barracks? You still going to claim to be royal?”

My eyes go wide. Royal wenches? In thebarracks? “W-what?”

“You heard me. Still claiming to be a princess?”

I say nothing.

“Good. Now if you want your food, you’ll be silent, won’t you?”

My stomach growls and I decide that maybe it is best to say nothing for now. I cross my arms over my chest protectively and glare, keeping to the shadows of my cell. He can come in anytime he likes, I realize, because a Fellian can move through shadows. I take another step back, twitching, in the hopes that my movements look erratic enough that he won’t teleport in and bother me.

What if I told you all the royal wenches from Lios were busy sucking cock down at the barracks?

That’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. There are no “royal wenches” other than myself and my sister, because Lionel had no siblings and Meryliese is dead. but I’ve got enough sense to know that I don’t want to push him. No one here believes I’m a princess anyhow. It won’t do me any good.

And I’mstarving. So hungry that my stomach feels hollow and painful. I need to eat, or I’m going to become dizzy and sick. Well, sicker, considering I’m going to get sick anyhow if I don’t get my medicine soon. “I would like to eat.”

“Ohwouldyou?” he sneers. “What a fine lady you are. Remember that here, you’re nothing but a slave.”

I don’t respond. Nothing I say is going to make a difference. I could tell him that I’m Candra Vestalin all day long and he’s not going to believe me. Candra Vestalin should be inside the tower, after all, resolutely fulfilling her duty to mankind and the goddess, and I’m the wretched creature that ran from it.

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