Page 75 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“And you enjoy sucking my cock. And you liked my knot. Those weren’t lies?”

I make another stitch, wincing in sympathy as I tug it through his wing. “Where are you going with this?”

“That perhaps you have feelings for me.”

I already know I do. That’s not the problem. The problem is that he’s forcing me to choose frolicking in bed with him and giving up my kingdom. “I adore you,” I confess. “Being with you makes me happy. You’re the only reason I haven’t given up a dozen times over. You’re the only reason I didn’t race out that door the moment they opened it.”

“That and the wrath of the Golden Moon Goddess, yes?”

I’m silent, because I’m not a good person. If it was up to just me? I’d probably have left. I like to think that I’d be noble and sacrificing, but I don’t think I’m strong enough for that. I’m a weak coward. “I’m just glad you’re here. You saved me down there.” I wipe the blood off his wing again and make another stitch. “Something tells me those men wouldn’t have stopped at simply taking our food. They likely would have murdered us, too.”

Well, after raping me.

The thought is a grim one, and it reminds me that those men were humans. Liosian humans. They’re supposed to be my people. Yet every time I’m contacted with my people, they’re treating me with derision. Or worse. I think about the fluffy letters that Riza and Nurse sent, letters that were sweet and thoughtful but shared no information about the outside world, because they did not trust me with it.

“You haven’t answered,” he says. “Perhaps these feelings mean we should be together after all?”

I nod absentlyas I stitch, focusing on the work in front of me as I think more about my people. How those men showed up early with the supplies this time. They didn’t wait for the solstice. They said they didn’t have to…and I’m reminded of how much I struggled last year, fighting to make my candles last, fighting to make every bit of wood count. They could havebrought me more at any time—Riza points out in her letter that she knew I didn’t have any—and no one did.

It hurts.

Those choices, combined with the men that broke in, make me question my kingdom at all. I know King Lionel is a complete arse. If he fell off a cliff, I’d cheer. I’ve got no love for him or this war he’s started. But he’s married to my sister, and she’s everything to me. I can’t abandon her.

And yet…she wanted me to kill Nemeth. Probably still would the moment I left this tower.

The thought sickens me. She doesn’t know him. Not like I do. She doesn’t know that he takes care of me, fusses over me when I’m not feeling well. He administers my medicine to ensure that I don’t bruise myself. He’s shared his supplies and everything he has with me, simply because he’s a good person.

Erynne wouldn’t understand that, and it feels like a knife in my chest. Nemeth’s insistence upon an honorable mating between us means I would be choosing between him and my sister.

It’s a choice I cannot make.

“It’s all right,” Nemeth says in a soft voice.

I glance over at him, startled. “Hmm?”

“If you don’t want to be with me. I know I am not the same as your kind. To them, I am a monster.” He gives me a sleepy smile. “If nothing else, I am glad I will have this time with you.”

My heart aches. “I wish it were simple, Nemeth.”

“It is,” he says, closing his eyes. “It is all very simple. And I am content to wait.”

Once his wingis stitched and slathered in salve, I gently help him fold it closed and then change the blankets on the bed so he can have somewhere clean to lie down. It’ll be impossible to bandage the wound itself, but I stick a bit of cloth to the thick salve to cover the worst of it and help him into bed. Nemeth is an affectionate drunk. He tries to pull me into bed with him and kisses my neck and face over and over again, until I’m breathless with need.

“I love you,” he whispers, brushing my hair back from my face. “My beautiful Candra. I would die before I would let anyone harm you.”

That just makes my heart hurt more. I force a bright smile to my face and give him a sassy wink that I don’t feel. “You think about your reward for being a good patient. But for now, get some sleep.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I hold it tight as he mumbles to himself and drifts off to sleep.

I stare down at our joined hands. His is easily twice the size of mine, his palm huge. His thick fingers are tipped with deadly looking black claws, but I’ve never been truly afraid of him. He’s always been so kind and gentle, even when it’s obvious that he could crush me in his grip. I feel safe with him, and that’s oddly ironic because I’ve never felt safe at court. I love court, and I know how to survive—and even thrive—on the games played there. But it feels like living on the edge of a knife, where the slightest wrong move could destroy you.

It’s definitely not safe or comfortable, and until Nemeth, I didn’t think those were things I wanted.

I toy with his fingers, tracing each dangerous claw, thinking of how Nemeth would fit in back at the Liosian court. Provided they didn’t immediately toss him into the dungeon, he still wouldn’t fit in. He’s a scholar who delights in his books and loves to sit by the fire and discuss what he’s read. He’s far more suitedto a monastery or a college. The court is a place where fashion is discussed, not philosophy. Of who is fucking who, and which lord is about to make an advantageous marriage, and which lord has been cuckolded. It’s an aggressive, shallow place, and I think Nemeth would hate it.

And that makes me oddly sad, because he doesn’t fit into my world. If we weren’t in this tower together, we’d have never met. If Meryliese had lived, I’d still be at court, being chased by Balon, and Nemeth would be here, reading his books and enduring quietly.

Alone.

---