Page 30 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

Twenty-One

My mind races. I know if I had a full dose of medicine in my veins or if I’d been eating properly, I’d be able to think straight.

But all I can think of is that the Fellian has stolen the last of my firewood. He’s strong enough to drag it up the stairs to his room, and that sled represents days—maybe weeks—of slow-burning fires, enough to stave off the worst of my sickness through the winter. I need it. He stole my knife from me, and now this?

He has to die.

I didn’t want to kill anyone, but he’s forcing me towards this. The logic of killing him makes more sense with every breath I take.

The Fellian has plenty of supplies. He has three of the globes that produce light. He’s got wood. He’s got books, and they’ll make a finer fire than my dresses will, even if I run out of wood. If I kill him, it all belongs to me.

It’ll be more than enough to last me until the next solstice, when more supplies will be delivered to me.

If I have to choose between the enemy or myself, I’ll obviously choose myself. Setting my light down in a safe place,I touch my bodice to make sure that my knife is in place. I can do this. I eye the stairwell, hidden in shadow. The first floor is Nemeth’s. I can go up there. Kill him. Find something to burn. Return to the kitchens and make my potion. Inject it the moment it cools, and then deal with the blood and his body later, once I feel better.

One thing at a time. Murder first.

I take a step onto the stairs, then another…and nearly collapse. I’m weaker than I thought.It’s all right, I remind myself.You can rest all you want once the potion is made. Go up the stairs one at a time, but you must go up the stairs. Kill your enemy, then everything will be fine.

I go up the steps. Slowly. Achingly slowly. I have to pause several times, and I’m not sure if the blackness swimming in front of my eyes is because of dizziness or shadows. I can do this, though. I can.

I make it to the top of the stairs and sway, holding onto the wall. Panting, I wait for my breathing to calm and then I head toward his quarters, drawing my knife from my bodice. My hand trembles with weakness, but I should be able to stab his throat, I think. That will kill a man, won’t it? Or should I go for the groin? Which one bleeds more?

Pausing outside his door, I draw a breath. I can do this. He’s proved himself to be my enemy time and time again. No hesitation.

My life versus his.

Before I can knock on the heavy door, it opens. A large form melts from the shadows, coalescing in the faint light emanating from his room. Nemeth’s green eyes reflect and shine as he gazes down at me. “Candra?”

I stab.

It’s a clumsy effort, and if I was thinking clearly, I would have tried seduction first. But I can think of nothing except mymedicine, and how desperately I need that wood. So I plunge my knife towards his broad chest, towards the slabs of muscle that cover his torso.

He grabs my wrist before the blade nicks the skin, stopping me.

“What do you think you’re doing, little princess?”

“Killing you,” I choke out. I struggle against his grip, but it’s useless. He holds me in a vise, and I can’t break free. Spots swim before my eyes and I glare up at him, defiant. “I won’t let you destroy me.”

“Destroy you?” Nemeth laughs, as if the idea is ludicrous.

He gazes down at me, and as I snarl up at him, the lights seem to go out. Everything dims around me, and the last thing I see before I pass out is the bright, amused glow of those great green eyes.

I’m lost in dreams.

They’re terrible dreams, though, because even in my dreams everything hurts. My body aches and I’m sweating. The space behind my eyes throbs with pain, and I can’t seem to escape any of it. I’m so thirsty, too. My mouth is a desert, and I dream of cool glasses of water, only for them to be held away from me, taunting me.

Now I’m in a desert. I stagger through the sands, and come upon a large statue of the goddess. She looks angry, and when I collapse at her feet, she lifts one enormous stone hand and clutches me in her grasp, her fingers supporting my lolling head.

“Which is it, princess? Injected or imbibed?”

I have no idea what the goddess is talking about. Her face is cruel as she leans in towards mine, and I flinch back. “W-what? I don’t understand, great lady.”

The Golden Moon Goddess clutches me in her arms. It’s like being hugged by rock, and as she leans in, I’m terrified. “Your medicine, little fool. Which is it? How do you take it?”

“N-needles,” I manage. “Needles. Injected. Please don’t kill me, goddess. I’m here, aren’t I? Haven’t I done everything you asked?”

She makes a derisive sound and sets me down gently on the sand again, and I escape to darkness once more.

---