Page 96 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

I ponder all of this as Nemeth sets the stool near the door and then approaches the entrance. He carefully unwinds the ropes around the handles and removes the broom-stick. I pull the knives out and kick aside the wedges we’ve lodged in place.

“Want to look outside?” Nemeth asks.

Do I? The idea feels downright naughty, as if we’re children up to no good. But there’s no rules against opening the doors—we simply cannot cross through them. I nod at him. “I’d love to get some fresh air, even if just for the day.”

“Just for the day,” he agrees. We both know we can open the doors any time we like, but there’s something about keeping them tightly sealed that reminds us of our duty. That reminds us just how dire things would be if we chose to leave…which is why we cannot.

Nemeth pulls the doors open and steps back, regarding the space outside.

It’s raining. Not a noisy, thunderous storm, because we would have heard that through the tower walls. This is a gentle, dreary rain, the skies gray and unpleasant, the water equally so. I move to Nemeth’s side, peering over his shoulder as humid, fresh air slides inside, and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes at the feel of the breeze.

My throat tightens with yearning. In this moment, I want nothing more than to race outside and feel the rain on my skin. Tears threaten, but I swallow them down. I’ll cry over it when we’re free.

We stare out at the beach in silence.

“I wish it was sunny,” I say after a moment. “Just so I could glimpse the sun. Rain almost feels like we’re being cheated.”

Nemeth stares out, and his wings flick. I touch his arm, knowing how hard this must be for him. Twice as hard as it is for me, because he cannot fly here in the tower. He’s doubly trapped. “I suppose we should be grateful the weather is unpleasant. It makes it that much easier to stay inside.”

“Mmm,” I agree, though secretly I would still race out into that dreary rain if it wouldn’t cost the world everything. I scan the shore. “I don’t see boats or rafts anywhere. They must yet be on their way.”

“My people will fly in,” Nemeth says absently, his gaze still on the stormy-looking skies. “But yes, I do not see them, either.”

“Then we’re early,” I say, making my tone bright to distract him. “I suppose we have time to waste.”

“I suppose we do.” Reluctantly, he pulls his gaze away from the outdoors and focuses on me again. I hold my hand out to him, and he squeezes my fingers tightly. My heart aches for him. “Shall I fetch you a cup of tea? Do you need to sit?”

I shake my head, reluctant to move away from the doors. If I stand just so, there’s a drizzle of rain that brushes inward and feels lovely against my skin. “Do you see our attackers anywhere? Their bodies? Surely they must still be on the beach.”

He squints out at the sands, then gestures. “A bit of weathered clothing there. And some bones. I imagine that whatever the elements did not finish off, the sea birds did.”

Wrinkling my nose, I try not to picture that. “Horrid. Just horrid.”

“It’s what they deserved.” His unearthly eyes gleam with remembered anger. “I will not waste a moment lamenting their fates.”

Me either. But I still don’t think I’d like to be left in the sands for the birds to pick at. I hold his hand tightly and lean on his arm. “Well,” I say with a sigh. “I suppose there’s nothing to do but wait.”

“They will be here soon enough,” Nemeth reminds me. “Patience, my greedy princess.”

Right. Patience.

We standnear the doors for a time, and when my feet begin to ache, I move to the stool and sit, arranging my skirts like I’m a queen and this is my throne room. Nemeth paces, moving in and out of the shadows, his gaze constantly straying to the wide open doors. I pick at my nails, and then pick at threads on my gown as the gentle rain eases off, and the long, gray afternoon stretches. My stomach growls but I can’t find it in me to get up and go to the kitchens for food. Some small part of my mind worries that if I leave my spot by the door, I’ll miss them and nothing will be delivered.

So I remain where I am, watching as the sun briefly peeks out from behind the clouds only to disappear below the horizon. It grows dark outside, and no one comes. Not the Fellians. Not the Liosians.

I chew on my nail. “Perhaps we have the wrong day? Perhaps today isn’t the solstice after all?”

But I know it is. I checked with my knife, and I’ve been keeping careful records of the days that pass, and Nemeth does, too. We both know today is the solstice. As the sun disappearsbelow the horizon, the great golden moon of the goddess rises in the sky, the surface milky and clouded like a child’s marble. It feels as if the goddess is glaring down at us, and I flinch at the sight.

“They must be delayed,” is all Nemeth says. “They will be here soon enough.”

We wait for longer, neither of us speaking as the stars come out and the air grows chilly with a night breeze.

“Perhaps the weather,” I begin.

“Perhaps,” Nemeth agrees. He looks over at me, and his expression is weary. Mine must be, too. “Go upstairs and get your potion ready, love. If they arrive, I’ll come get you.”

I hesitate, and then nod. I’m tired, and yet it doesn’t feel right to leave him here. But even if his people arrive, I can’t be seen with him. And if mine arrive first, he can do that weird shadow thing and slip to my side faster than a blink. “Promise you’ll wake me the instant they get here.”

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