Bound to the Shadow Prince

Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

P erhaps it’s only because I’m already on edge that I don’t jump at the sound of that growling, furious voice. Perhaps part of me suspected that he’d emerge out of the shadows the moment I got naked. It seems like something he’d do, just to try and rattle me. Whatever the reason, I remain calm, dragging another handful of water over my breasts. They thrust out of the water, uncovered and bare, and I wish I’d made my bath a little deeper, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. My heart flutters in my chest but I put on my courtier’s mask and give him a lazy, indolent look. “Bathing. What does it look like?”

The shadows blink at me, nothing but a pair of shining, narrowed green eyes in the darkness. I can just make out the outline of a hulking form, but he’s deliberately avoiding my candlelight, the bastard.

And he doesn’t respond to my question.

I lift one leg from the water, arching my toes. I’ve never bathed alone in the past, thanks to many, many servants always being around. In fact, I’ve even bathed with a lover before. Never the enemy, though. That’s a new one for me, and yet I’m not afraid. If he’s trying to intimidate me, he’s failing. I’ve got nothing left to lose. “Did you come here to watch me bathe? Should I put on a show?”

The Fellian growls, the sound vaguely irritated. “I came here to talk to you.”

“Did you?” I lower my leg and sink into the bath, making the water lap at my breasts. I’m not built tall and willowy like Erynne, where the delicate court fashions fit her perfectly. I’m rounded and plump everywhere, but I do have very nice, full breasts. In this, I feel confident. “I think you’re lying.” I drag a finger down through my cleavage. “You could have talked to me when I went upstairs. Surely you can hear me when I go up the stairs. It’s not as if I’m ever quiet or subtle about it. So I have to think that this was deliberate on your part. You wanted to surprise the lady in her bath.”

It’s strange, but I actually feel…safe? The conversation with Balon earlier made me realize that if this Fellian was as monstrous as he’s supposed to be, I’d have already been assaulted. He’s bigger than me and no doubt stronger. If he was going to attack me, he probably already would have. He might be interested in seeing my tits, but I can handle a peeper. A peeper only looks his fill.

Frankly, I’m bored enough to let him look.

“I’m not here to play your games,” the green-eyed shadow tells me.

Sure you’re not. I shrug and cup another handful of water over my breasts. Why is it that I feel in control of my situation and in my element for the first time since I’ve arrived to this hellish tower? Is it because he’s a man and I know how to manipulate men? Or have I truly lost my wits?

Both, I decide.

I continue to bathe myself, rubbing my limbs with the cool water. When I glance up, the shadowy form is still there. “For someone who claims he doesn’t want to play my games, you aren’t doing a very good job of convincing me.”

“You said I am not a man,” he all but snarls at me. “When you spoke to your friend, you implied I was not a man. You think I am a demon? A monster? A malevolent creature who will suck your soul out if you meet my gaze?” His tone changes to insulting and dismissive. “Like the rest of your backwards kingdom?”

“I confess I don’t know what you are,” I admit cheerfully. “Seeing as you’re always hiding in the shadows and looming. What am I supposed to think?”

“I think you’re an immodest, immoral creature.”

“Says the creature interrupting my bath,” I retort. “How many times have I interrupted yours?”

He snarls at me, his clothing rustling with an angry flap, and for a moment, I’m afraid. Whoever this Fellian is, he has a temper. And yet, he’s still here. Perhaps I’m not as safe as I thought. Goosebumps prickle over my skin and I rub them away with a brisk motion of my hand. He watches that motion, too, and when I look over, those green eyes are still watching me from the shadows.

I arch a brow in his direction. Well?

The eyes narrow and I get the impression that he’s angry at me. “We are a people of the shadows,” he finally says, tone stiff.

“Well, I am not,” I say, sitting up in the tub. It makes my wet breasts bounce and sway, and his gaze dips to them again. Truly, all men are the same wherever one goes. “So come into the candlelight if you’re going to talk to me,” I say. “Or else go away.”

I truly expect him to disappear. For those eyes to just wink out and vanish and to leave me alone with my bath.

Instead, the Fellian’s gaze hardens, his eyes gleaming bright, and he takes a step forward. Then another.

And he comes fully into the flickering light of my candle.

I swallow hard at the sight of him.

I’ve never seen a Fellian for myself. I know their kingdom exists on the edges of ours, and that there was once a thriving trade agreement back in the days when the Vestalin line was upon the throne. I’ve heard that the kingdom of Darkfell is mostly underground, inside hollow mountains and winding caves. I’ve also heard that they are devils, so hideous and unholy to look upon that they avoid the Absent God’s light. I always thought those were foolish rumors, but as the stranger steps forward, I realize that not all of the stories told are lies.

He does look like a monster.

The green eyes glittering in his face are the only hint of color, and even those are almost drowned by the black sclera that surround them. The Fellian seems to be made entirely of grays and blacks. His skin is nothing but deep gray muscle, and his features are not entirely human. His oversized hands are tipped with thick, deadly claws and his feet are bare, tipped with the same claws and formed awkwardly, a bit like an eagle’s. His knees bend backward, his thighs heavy and obscured by the leather kilt at his hips—the only piece of clothing he wears. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares down at me, and his upper body is far more massive than any human knight’s.

Not even his face is truly human. His features are hard planes, his nose large and prominent and jutting down from his heavy brow like a blade. His jaw is heavy, too, his mouth wide. If he was a sculpture, I’d say he’d been carved with a heavy, angry hand and instead of using soft marble, he went for unforgiving granite.

There’s no hair upon his head, either. Instead, rising from his scalp where his hair should be, dozens of curving horns arch back, like a mane blowing back from his face into an unseen wind. Something ripples behind him, heavy and dark, and the sound of fabric rustles again…except I realize now that it’s not fabric at all.

He’s not human. Not even close.

“Behold,” he says flatly. “Your enemy.”

“Are those wings?” I ask, leaning over the edge of the tub and my breasts plumping against the metal side. Here I thought he’d had a cloak and all this time he had strange, leathery-looking wings. “Are you part bat?”

The snarl he directs my way is utterly scathing. “Why would I be a bat?”

“You have leathery wings and you live in a cave. “Shouldn’t that make you a bat?” I taunt.

He focuses his angry gaze at me. “You live in the sunlight and walk on the ground. Does that make you a pig?”

My jaw drops. I splash at him, indignant, but he simply steps aside. “That was insufferably rude.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get rude answers.”

I’m no longer having fun with this. Glaring at him, I sink back into the bath again. “Go away so I can finish my bath in peace.”

“I heard you talking to your lover.”

I don’t look in his direction. Instead, I just shrug. “So what if you did? It’s not against the rules. He’s not entering the tower and I don’t seem to be leaving it,” I say, my tone bitter. If Balon were braver, maybe I’d be taking a bath in an inn somewhere on land instead of a cold half-bath in a dark kitchen. The thought is a depressing one. Balon is a sweet man, but he’s still young and not nearly foolish enough to suit my needs. If he were more impulsive, he’d have already broken me out and damned the consequences. Instead, he shows up to tell me about his horses and how his latest hunting trip went.

I’m just a different sort of entertainment for him, I realize. The thought is a depressing one. When Balon gets bored of coming to visit me, he’ll just disappear…and I’ll still be here. Waiting.

“I won’t let you escape,” the Fellian says. “Not until the Golden Moon is gone once more.”

“Or until your people fall in the war,” I say brightly. “Which I shall hope and pray for every day.” I give him a tight smile. “You did know there was a war coming to your doorstep, yes? By now King Lionel and his knights have probably conquered your mountain…or whatever grimy little cave you’ve crawled out of.”

He huffs, and I realize he’s amused. “If he told you they’re winning the war, he’s lying to you.”

I glance over at him, dismissive. I’m getting cold, my nipples tight in the chill, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of covering my breasts. I rest my arms on the edge of the tub and comment, “Balon has no need to lie.”

“You think not?” Again, amusement. “As a reminder, female, if you try to leave, I will stop you.”

I eye him. “Are you going to stand here all night and ogle my breasts while making threats? Or can I finish my bath?”

The Fellian bares his teeth at me—fangs, of course they’re fangs—and then melts away into shadow. It takes me a moment to realize that when his eyes close, he’s not returning. I sit up, shocked. That was magic of some kind. He didn’t move his legs or his wings. He simply disappeared into the darkness. If that’s possible, how is anyone supposed to fight a Fellian?

As if agreeing with my thoughts, my candle gutters out and I’m left in the darkness.

Well, dragon shite.