Page 26 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“What about you?” I ask. “Were you always meant to come here? Or were you a last-moment replacement as well?”

Nemeth is silent for a span. When he finally answers, he says, “My king told me it was my duty to come here. I did not argue. I knew it was a possibility.”

“Because of the bloodline,” I agree. It was always something that had lurked in the corners of my mind, as well. I’d simply thought that since Meryliese was to be the one sent, I was safe.

Clearly I am a fool.

His hand warm in mine, I turn in the darkness towards those green eyes. I know he’s the enemy, but it’s so good to have someone to talk to. Someone that knows the frustrations that I’ve been going through. Yet I can’t say too much to him. He’s still the enemy. We’re not meant to be friendly. I should be looking for the best way to destroy him, not making friends. “Consider yourself lucky that you were prepared. I’m not having much fun learning of all the things that were missed.”

“Mm.” Nemeth is quiet for a moment. “You had someone to do things for you, back in the palace?”

“You didn’t?”

“I am a warrior,” he says, as if that answers everything.

“Yes, well, you can’t shame me for not knowing how to do laundry or make soup. We don’t know what we don’t know, and I only had three days to prepare. If I had prepared better, I shouldhave learned how to read or to play a musical instrument to keep myself occupied.” I shake my head. “The days are so damned long and the darkness is maddening.”

“It bothers you?”

I know I’m saying too much. I just don’t care. This is the first real conversation I’ve had since I’ve been locked in the tower—other than the other run-ins I’ve had with Nemeth. But each of those occasions felt like we were trying to get the upper hand on each other. This feels like something more. So I allow myself to be vulnerable. “I hate it. It’s oppressive and just makes me feel more trapped.”

“Ah.”

I wonder if he’s mentally cataloging how to use this against me as he withdraws his hand from mine. Thunder rumbles again, and then I hear atap tap.

The room fills with light.

I gasp, stunned. It’s a pale, gentle white light, and it seems to be emanating entirely from a rounded white stone set upon a pedestal. Nemeth lifts his large clawed hand from its surface and then moves farther down in the room and taps a claw upon another one of those stones, and the room grows even brighter.

The bastard isn’t even using candles.

My jaw hangs open in shock. I want to memorize everything in his room now that I can see, or gaze my fill on the craggy, unpleasant face of the Fellian in front of me, or eye his lack of clothing, but I can’t take my eyes off of the shining globes that seemingly produce their own brilliant light. One would be enough to see by. Two feels like decadence, and then the bastard goes and lights a third one.

Harsh thunder rumbles again, shaking the tower so hard that the bed quakes and the globes shiver. Nemeth turns back to me. “Better?”

I lift a finger, pointing at the globes. “You…how…how did you do that?”

“Magic,” he replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “You do not have magic? At all?”

I shake my head, mystified. “I told you I didn’t.”

“You are my enemy. You could have lied.” But he runs his hand over one of the globes, caressing it. “It seemed a wise thing to bring a few with me. One must be prepared for all occasions.”

And he gives me a pointed look that tells me he doesn’t think me very prepared at all.

I suspect he knows I’m low on candles, too. It seems like something Nemeth would be aware of. That, and he’s probably guessed from my fumbling about in the darkness. If I had one of those globes, it would save me from having to light a candle every time I needed a hint of light. It’d save me tinder, too. I could keep it for my fires. “How does that work?” I ask. “Do you say a spell over it?”

“You tap it twice and it lights up. That’s all.”

“Can you make me one?” I try to keep the eagerness out of my voice, but it’s impossible. The hunger is written all over my face, I imagine. I have never needed anything as much as I need one of these magic globes of light.

Nemeth hesitates and then shakes his head. “I do not have the supplies here.”

Disappointment crashes over me, but only for a moment. A new idea takes place. “Can I bargain with you for one?”

“A bargain?” he looks skeptical. “What is it you think you have that I could want?”

I fiddle with my chemise, thinking. He’s right that I don’t have a lot in the way of supplies that would entice him. I have less food, so I can’t offer him that. I have no books, and judging from the looks of his quarters, he is a great reader. One wall is filled entirely with massive tomes. I can’t even offer my knife—not that I would. I have little in the way of wood to burn, or candles, or anything…unless he wants a dress. “Fabric?” I ask. “I could take apart one of my dresses and you could use the material for…something?”

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