Page 59 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

Chapter

Thirty-Six

The soldier sneers at me. “Do I? You don’t know what it’s like?—”

One of the men coughs, kicking sand against his angry companion who stands in the doorway.

The guard holding the sword straightens, as if remembering himself. “Did you want this food or not, princess?”

“Yes, of course I want it.” I hate that I have to be polite and friendly to this ass. If my sister knew how he was treating me, he’d be strung up and his head on a pike in front of the castle gates. But I’m here alone, and I need that food, as much as I need Nemeth not to lose his mind and attack the men. So I pick up the rope and tug on it. The sled doesn’t budge, too weighted down. The men give me another wary look, and then all three of them line up at the back end of the sled and push it forward while I tug it inside. The moment the runners are over the threshold, the men pull back and I grunt and drag the sled another foot or so. The men on the other side have pronged sticks that they lean on, shoving the sled forward until it’s clear of the door.

I dust off my hands, dropping the rope and stepping forward again. “Thank you for the supplies. Tell me of news back at thecastle while you’re here? Is my sister well? Does Allionel grow strong?”

The leader holds his sword up again, shaking his head. “Stay back, princess. You have your supplies. Now we must brick up the door again.”

So soon? “Oh.” I bite my lip. “You can’t leave it open? Just for a few hours so I can enjoy the breeze?”

He shakes his head. “I have my orders.”

The men shut the doors before I can plead again, and the darkness swallows me once more. I fight the knot in my throat, tears threatening as I’m left standing there. Sand grit under my slippers is a reminder of what I’m missing out on as I hear the men bar the door from the other side. “Get the bricks,” one calls, voice muffled.

And…that’s that.

My people are gone for another year. I blink hard, my jaw working. I didn’t even get a hint of news about my sister, or the war. I don’t even know if they sent me firewood. All I know is they were extremely unpleasant…almost as if they resented me. I’m giving up seven years of my life forthat?

I clench my jaw so I don’t cry. I’ll cry tomorrow, so Nemeth doesn’t realize just how rattled I am at that interaction. All my life, I’ve been treated well by the Liosians. No one’s ever disrespected me like that. I wonder what it means. Did they somehow see Nemeth? Do I have love bites on my neck? I touch my throat absently, wondering what caused such disgust.

“Are you all right?” Nemeth asks, and he emerges from the shadows once more.

“Perfectly lovely,” I say with false brightness. My gaze strays to the door as the scraping, slapping noise of the door being re-bricked hits my ears. I’m truly starting to hate that sound.

“I didn’t like the way they spoke to you,” Nemeth tells me, a glare on his hard face as he moves to my side. His big handgoes protectively to my shoulder and he extends a wing, curling it around me as he pulls me against him.

“I wasn’t a fan of it either,” I admit, then tease, “I shall have to send a sternly worded letter to my sister.”

“I’m serious, Candra.”

I am, too. I’m helpless without the authority that my name brings. If they don’t care that I’m a Vestalin, how do I have any sway? I might as well have been talking to the walls for all that those men cared. They didn’t want to hear from me. They simply wanted to dump my supplies and brick me back up again. I don’t think I could have said anything to sway them.

And I’m used to swaying men.

I touch my hair, wondering if the lack of daylight is affecting my looks. I turn to Nemeth. “Do I seem unappealing to you? Any marks on my face? Wrinkles? Is my hair a fright?”

His wing curls even more protectively around me. “You are a vision, Candra. As I have said before, I have never seen anyone as lovely as you.”

“Well, sometimes a woman needs to hear it again,” I admit. “No marks on my neck? You’re certain?” He inspects me, and when nothing is found, I’m puzzled. It’s not because I’m with Nemeth in a carnal sense, then. It must be something else entirely. “So very puzzling. To be here early and so rude, too.”

“Are you truly going to write your sister?” Nemeth asks, his claws stroking over my braid.

“I don’t know if it would do anything,” I confess. “Provided that I could count on them to deliver it and not simply cast it into the sea the moment we’re shut away? It’d still take another year to get a response.”

“Exactly. So best to just ignore it.” He strokes a knuckle over my cheek. “You don’t know the reason behind their moods. They could be separated from their wives. They could be onduty with instructions to return quickly. Or perhaps your king is superstitious and told them not to speak to you.”

Now that I can absolutely believe. Lionel hates me as much as I hate him, and he would take any opportunity to twist the knife. He knows I would loathe being here, so it’s very possible they were expecting me to break out and push past the guards. If I take one footstep outside the tower, the goddess will be furious and cast her wrath down upon all of mankind. My selfish actions would make people starve, and ships wreck, cities upon the coasts sink into the furious waters of the sea.

A year ago, I would have absolutely done it…but a year ago, Nemeth was still my enemy. He’s saved me in so many ways. Six more years trapped in this tower seems like a lifetime, but I don’t hate it as much with Nemeth at my side.

I look up at him thoughtfully. His fangs are gleaming in the light he holds, and the slant of it illuminates his strong, rock-like jaw and the harsh angles of his features. His strange nose and heavy brow cast shadows and make him look monstrous, but I see the warmth in those glowing green eyes, and the wing that’s tenderly tucked around me shields my form as if he can protect me from the rest of the world.

---