Bound to the Shadow Prince

Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

I go with Nemeth as he takes the dishes down to the kitchen and rinses them out. I offer to help but he won’t let me, so I sit on one of the counters and watch him, and we talk about the things we can’t wait to eat or do once we get out of here. It passes the time pleasantly, and then we head back upstairs for bed.

I take off my overdress, tugging on the bodice laces, and to my surprise, Nemeth moves to my side and loosens the ties on my oversleeves. He helps me without saying a word, and it feels comfortable and yet too intimate all the same. “I can manage,” I murmur, acutely aware of how jiggly my breasts are the moment I loosen the corset. “It’s really no problem.”

“I should learn how to undress you,” he says.

“Is that so?”

His eyes flash, and I could swear he’s blushing. “So I can know how to take care of you if you should get sick again. For your medicine.”

“Of course. That’s absolutely what I was thinking,” I purr. “Medicine.”

Nemeth looks shy as he finishes unlacing my oversleeve. Once it’s off, I roll up my chemise sleeve and examine the inside of my arm. I always use the right arm, because that’s the one Nurse used. There are bruises and scabs from my clumsy efforts, and I don’t see any sign of yesterday’s dose forming a new bruise. He is good at this. I glance up at him as I sit on the edge of the bed and steady my arm on my lap. “How did you know how to make my potion? When I was sick?”

He picks up a small pot from near the fire, and I see he’s been warming the concoction already. “You made the same foul-smelling mix in the kitchens, over and over again, and you always stared at your book as you did. I figured it was a recipe for something important, and when you fell sick, you were delirious. You kept talking about your potion, and how you needed it. So I started searching your quarters. I found your book, and when I looked inside, there were instructions there.” He gives me a grave look. “I hope I did not intrude.”

“You saved my life. I’m fine with a little intrusion.”

Nemeth fills the syringe and carefully flicks a finger against it, releasing any trapped air bubbles. “If I do something wrong, please let me know. I’m simply going off your instructions in your guide.”

“So far, so good,” I tell him, holding my arm out. I’m a little disconcerted when he pulls his stool up extremely close and cradles my arm in his lap. His knee moves between mine, and this suddenly feels more intimate than when I was lying in bed and he administered the needles before. I wonder if I should lie down again. But before I can, he wipes my arm down with a wet towel and then gives me the dose before I can even realize he’s pricked the skin. His touch is so gentle that I barely felt it, and before I know it, the medicine is rushing through my veins and he wipes my arm again, this time clean of blood.

He moves back to the fire as I fold my arm up and hug it to my chest. “I’ve been boiling these before using them, like your instructions say. Your nurse is quite thorough.”

“She’s wonderful,” I agree, feeling pleasantly lightheaded with the medicine.

“If I may ask…you have plenty of supplies for your medicine. Why is it that you were so ill?” He glances over at me. “Was it a protest of some kind?”

As if I’d be that foolish. I shake my head. “No protest. I’m too fond of living. I was stretching the doses I had left because I’d run out of firewood. That’s why I had a slight fit”—I pinch my fingers, indicating just how slight—“over the sled.”

“A slight fit,” he echoes, voice dry. “You did try to kill me.”

“Very slight,” I agree. “I didn’t try very hard. I think we both agreed on that.”

Nemeth huffs, the sound both amused and offended all at once. He pokes at the logs on the fire, settling them, and then pushes them further back into the fireplace. “I think we should get ready for sleep, unless you need something else.”

“You’re just rushing me to bed, aren’t you?” I tease.

His wings flutter. “Of course not. Tomorrow is just a busy day. Much cleaning to be done. And bathing.” His wings twitch again. “I thought you might like a bath after being ill.”

The man is not wrong. I would absolutely love a bath. “It sounds delightful.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He goes around the room, tapping the lights to turn them off, and his quarters darken. I get under the covers, checking my arm to make sure it’s no longer bleeding before he turns off the final light, and then I lie and wait, scarcely daring to breathe.

This is the first night I’m truly aware that he’s going to be in bed next to me. That he touched himself to thoughts of me only hours ago. I scarcely breathe as he climbs over the headrail on the bed and into the bedding next to me. His bed is far larger than mine, and when his wing gently brushes my arm, I realize that this bed was made for the Fellian who would be entering the tower, the sacrifice from his people. “You know, when I first got here, I thought you took the first floor just because you were being a prick,” I murmur into the darkness as he settles down in bed. “I didn’t realize your bed was so much larger than mine.”

He goes still, and then his chuckle echoes in the darkness. I catch a glimpse of shining green eyes, gleaming like a cat’s. “The furniture here seemed sized to one of my people. Perhaps I should have said something.”

“We could fill the last six months with all the things we should have said,” I joke. Having someone in the darkness here with me feels far less lonely than it did in the past. It’s rather nice. Like when Erynne used to crawl into my bed when we were children and we’d snuggle together as she told me stories.

Snuggling in bed with a Fellian isn’t quite the same, but at least I don’t feel adrift and alone any longer.

“Indeed,” is all he says, and then he shifts his weight on the bed. “Pleasant dreams.”

I pillow my head behind my arm, thinking. It’s obvious that Nemeth isn’t going to use bedtime for flirting. I could take the lead, of course. Turn and press myself against his back—and wings—and spoon him from behind. My smaller form would be ludicrous against his larger one, but after pushing my breasts against his back, I’m sure he’d get the idea. Run my hands over him. Play with his wings, see if they’re sensitive. Rake my nails down those thick thighs that seem to be made backwards from mine…

…and then what?

Have sex with a Fellian? Would it be just sex? Or would the monk-in-training view it as a long-term commitment? That it’s love instead of pure lust and boredom? I’m used to the men at court, where a fling is simply something to do to escape boredom. It’s flirting taken a little too far in the dark corners of a room, or the thrill of sneaking into a lover’s quarters. That’s all it is—a thrill.

I have a feeling that to Nemeth, it would mean something much more.

I tuck the blankets under my arms and decide that I’m not ready to make that leap. Not when I have a fire and a full belly for the first time in weeks. I’m not doing anything to mess this up.

For now, sleep is best.