Page 86 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

Silence.

Huh.

“She knows nothing about them?”

Shiver.

“Did Nemeth’s people send them?”

Silence.

“So no one sent them?”

Shiver.

“They came to raid the tower entirely of their own volition?”

Shiver.

How very odd. I wonder what possessed them to attack. They wanted our supplies, they said. Surely that wasn’t all of it? I wish I’d paid more attention to the tower’s history so I would know if crazed peasants had ever attacked it in the past.

Yes, shivers the knife.

Well, that answers that. I move to put the knife away, back into its sheath, and then pause. “My sister is well? Her son well?”

Yes.

“Her pregnancy goes well?”

Yes.

Even though I’m currently miffed at Erynne, I’m still glad she’s healthy.I decide to ask about more people. Lionel is well (sadly). Nurse is well. Riza is well again (much to my relief) and my friends at court seem to be healthy. It fills me with accomplishment, as if these victories are somehow mine, and I’m in a pleasant mood when I go to sheathe the knife once more.

Then I pause. “Does…Nemeth love me? Truly?”

Yes, the knife shivers.

I’m beaming as I tuck it away, leaving it on my table since I don’t plan on wearing my gown for very long after the ceremony. I finish my primping in the mirror, eyeing my unsatisfying reflection. Then, after a moment’s pause, I reach under my skirts and tear my bloomers off.

No sense in wasting my time…or Nemeth’s.

I race back downstairswith my lamp to greet my bridegroom, more excited than ever to get this marriage going. I don’t care that I’m going to be abandoning my people, or that Erynne, the only family I have left, wouldn’t approve of my actions. Nemeth loves me and I love him, and I’m excited to become his wife in all ways. I’m radiant with happiness as I enter our room…only to find it empty.

Hm.

I know he didn’t come upstairs. I peek into the storage room, wondering if he’s touching himself again, unable to wait for me to return, but it’s empty as well. Curious, I take the lamp and head downstairs. “Nemeth?”

“Here,” he calls. “I am readying the altar.”

Right. Because the Fellians ask for the approval of the three gods when they mate. Liosians have a similar ceremony, but ours is more of standard pomp and fussiness than an actual praise of the Gray God, who looks over the land of Lios and protects us from the whims of the Golden Moon Goddess.

With lamp in hand, I head down the stairs. Sure enough, Nemeth has our precious candles lit at the altar, and he has an intricate, woven prayer cloth covering the table. That’s…new. “Where did that come from?”

“I found it upstairs,” he tells me.

“Huh.” I move toward the altar, fingering the delicate fabric. It’s clear that whoever created this spent a lot of time on it. The stitches are exquisite and plentiful, flowers and birds moving along the elegant vines on the borders. “I’ve never found anything but useless junk in there.”

“It was buried under a few old books,” Nemeth says, his big hand smoothing the sides of the fabric as he sets the ceremonial plates on the altar in their spots.

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