Bound to the Shadow Prince

Chapter 72

Chapter

Seventy-Two

A heavy boot thuds into my back, and I cry out in pain.

“I said get up,” the voice tells me, impatient. “Lazy sack of shite. Stand up or I’ll make you stand.”

I struggle to get the heavy hood off of my head, and when I finally pull it free, my eyes take a moment to adjust. The cool moonlight is gone. I’m inside a dark, shadowy cavern of some kind. When I look straight up, I can see a ceiling, curved and high overhead, made of stone. Near the ceiling itself are the same round magic globes that we used for light back in the tower. Nearby, I hear the slap of water against stone, and when I look around, I can see a few small ships in the distance, along with an enormous cave mouth that leads outside.

But I’m not outside. I’ve been taken into the depths of the mountains by a stranger. Looming over me is an unfamiliar Fellian, his face hard and unpleasant. When he glares down at me, he bares his teeth, as if the hated sight of me makes him violent.

“Get up, human?—”

“I’m up,” I snap back. “Where’s Nemeth?”

“Prince Nemeth?” The Fellian reaches out and shoves me the moment I get to my feet, nearly knocking me to the ground again. What a bully. “He’s in the tower where he should be, doing his duty. Why do you care?”

I stare at him. Do I tell him that Nemeth left the tower? That I did, too? That I mated to Nemeth and I’m carrying his child? Something tells me he won’t believe me. “Why did you take me from my ship?”

“Did I say you could talk to me?” he snarls, reaching out and slapping me.

I’m so shocked that I put a hand to my cheek and stare at him. He’s treating me—a princess of Vestalin blood—like this? Then my anger kicks in. Because how dare he treat anyone like this? “Take me back to my ship. My mate is waiting for me there.”

“Your mate,” he sneers.

“Yes. My Fellian mate,” I emphasize, and decide to tell it all. I show him my hand, with its tattooed bite. “Prince Nemeth. That’s my mate.”

He blinks at me. Looks at my palm. Then he throws his head back and laughs. “You humans are coming up with more and more clever ways to get out of work. I’ve never met a lazier lot.”

“I’m not lying. Look at my hair. Look at my eyes. I’m a princess?—”

He grabs my face so hard I know I’m going to have bruises, his hand covering my mouth. I let out a muffled yelp, fear flooding through my veins. For the first time, I realize that I’m just as vulnerable as any human. There’s no Nemeth to protect me here. He might not even know that I’m missing.

“Humans don’t get to make demands of Fellians,” he sneers at me. “You lost the war. Humans say ‘yes master’ and ‘no master’ and do as they’re told.” He flings me away and I stagger backward, catching myself before I fall. He turns and glares at me. “Now…you tell me, female. Who’s your owner? Whose ship is that?”

“Yes, master,” I say sarcastically, wiping a line of blood off my cheek from where his claws have cut me. “No, master.”

His wings, tucked against his back, rattle in a way that I know means he’s angry. He strides forward and grabs me by the front of my dress. “You think you’re smart, human?”

“Yes, master,” I jibe. I’m no longer scared. Now I’m just pissed. “I’m a lot smarter than you, because you’re slapping around the pregnant mate of your prince.”

“You?” he sneers.

“Me.” I say it with such confidence that I think it rattles him.

He stares at me long and hard and then shakes his head. “Lies.” He grabs me by the shoulder. “You’re going in the dungeon until we figure out who your master is. He can whip you for your impudence. I’m tired of this shite.”

With that, he drags me down the hall as if I’m a piece of luggage.

I try to break free from his grip, but it’s like one of iron. I’m surprised he’s not flying, but I’m grateful, too. Walking to the dungeon—if that’s where we’re going—gives me the opportunity to have a good look around at this new, strange kingdom I find myself in.

Because Darkfell—if this is indeed Darkfell—is very, very strange.

Nemeth had told me that Darkfell was a sprawling city under the mountains, but I wasn’t able to visualize just what he meant. Now I can see it. The mountain itself is hollowed out, the “roof” of it so high in certain spots that it disappears into shadows. The rest of it is carved, and between the square houses that are stacked like blocks along cobbled paths, there are houses farther up, lining the high walls of the mountain itself. It’s like a hive , and everywhere I look are homes gleaming with the artificial lights at their doors. There are bright cloth awnings over what look like street booths, and as my captor drags me forward, we pass a fenced-off area that resembles rows and rows of Nemeth’s mushroom-farming board. It’s all neat and tidy and industrious.

What I don’t see are people.

There are a few, of course. There’s a Fellian in the mushroom garden who disappears into shadows the moment they see me being dragged down the street by my captor. I see a few men in uniform, dark-winged and hard-faced, watching as the male at my side hauls me along after him. But the streets feel strangely empty. I thought Darkfell would be crawling with people. With their limited space and so many houses, I thought I’d see nothing but people on top of people.

Instead, this place feels nearly as deserted as Lios. And as we head further into the city itself, the sprawl continues—streets forking into narrow alleyways, buildings clustered atop one another, even more of the nest-like homes high above—and yet many of the homes have no lights on at all. Some of the houses have a strange red symbol painted on the door, and whenever we see someone, they cover their mouth and move hastily past. The mountain seems to echo all around us. Surely a crowded mountain wouldn’t echo?

I turn to my Fellian captor. “Where is everyone?”

His expression grows ugly. He raises a fist to me and I flinch, throwing my hands up to protect myself. “You’ll shut your mouth if you know what’s good for you, female.”

I try to wriggle out of his grip again.“Prince Nemeth?—”

“—is in the tower,” the man says, his claws digging furrows into my skin. He’s almost bored, as if capturing humans is an everyday thing with him. As if it’s no big deal to see a human near Darkfell, whose border has been closed to us for hundreds of years.

“I’m his wife,” I try once more. “Prince Nemeth—he’s my husband. Can’t you cast a spell to see if I’m telling the truth or not? Use your magic.”

The man hauls me up so quickly that I yelp. My feet come off the ground and I dangle in midair, held aloft by the hand on my bodice. He snarls at me, showing huge fangs and a nasty demeanor. “Where did you hear that?”

“About Nemeth? He was in the tower with me. We left a few months ago?—”

He pulls me closer, and I can smell his fetid breath. His pupils flick back and forth, studying me. “Who is your master?” he hisses. “Who showed you magic?”

Am I not supposed to know? “Nemeth showed me,” I say again. “In the tower?—”

My captor growls and flings me away. I skid across the cobbled floor, wincing when my head smacks against stone. That one’s going to leave a mark. I manage to pull myself upright, panting. “If you hurt me again, he’s going to kill you,” I warn. “He didn’t keep me alive for two years just for you to beat the stuffing out of me.”

“Female, I am warning you.” He points a claw at me. “Cease with your lip and get to your feet.”

If this cretin wanted me on my feet, then why’d he pull me off of them? With a huff of irritation, I stand up—and immediately get dizzy. I haven’t eaten since a few bites of fish this morning, and clearly my body has a problem with this. I shake a finger at the Fellian man. “Nemeth will not be happy about this.”

And then I pass out at his feet.

I wake up with a foul taste in my mouth and a horrible headache. Groaning, I put a hand to my forehead and remain where I am, just in case the dizziness is lingering. There’s a rough blanket under me and it’s very quiet, so quiet I can hear the drip of water somewhere nearby. Somewhere nearby, there’s a drag of chains and a low murmur of conversation.

Human conversation.

It excites me so much I almost bolt upright again, so desperate to see the faces of my people. I never thought of myself as particularly patriotic until now, when I’ve lost everyone and everything. It takes everything I have to remain still, and I turn my head, looking at my new surroundings.

My captor is gone. That’s a good thing. He was getting far too rough and arrogant for my tastes. But his disappearance also means no one knows that I’m here, or that I’ve been asking for Nemeth. Panic later, I tell myself. Figure out where you are now. A quick glance around makes it obvious, though—I’m in the dungeon. The walls are narrow stone that enclose the thin pallet I’m lying upon, and there’s very little light to see by. I stretch an arm out and confirm my suspicions—with both arms extended, I can touch the sides of my cell at the same time. Near my feet, there’s a bucket, and the bucket is by the door, which has a window covered by a metal cross-hatch of bars. I crawl forward on my bed and gag at the smell of the bucket—this is clearly not the first time it’s been used for a toilet. I use the door to help me to my feet, leaning on it for balance, and press my face to the bars, desperate to hear more of those Liosian voices.

When I look out, I see a dark stone corridor, lined with more doors just like mine. I still hear voices, though, and as I watch, a pale arm reaches out of the mesh grid toward the next cell, only to be met with another hand. They pass something between them—a hunk of bread—and then quickly disappear again.

They were human, though. Those fingers weren’t tipped with claws.

“Hello?” I call out. “Let me out. Nemeth is looking for me.”

A large, heavy figure emerges from the shadows. I know from the sound of his wings that he’s a Fellian, even before those creepy green eyes meet mine. “Quiet, you.”

I ignore that, because quiet never got a girl anywhere. “Where exactly am I, kind sir?” I flutter my lashes at him and lick my lips in what I hope is an enticing manner. “I fear I’m lost.”

He swipes at the bars with his claws, making me yelp and surge backward. “You’ll listen to me when I tell you to be quiet, female.”

“But where am I?” I stay out of reach behind the bars on the door, just in case. “My name is Princess Candromeda Vestalin, and I’m looking for Prince Nemeth of the First House. He’ll be looking for me as well.”

The guard’s eyes narrow at me and he sneers. “So you’re royal, huh?”

“I am.” I try to look as dignified as possible.

“What if I told you all the royal wenches from Lios were busy sucking cock down at the barracks? You still going to claim to be royal?”

My eyes go wide. Royal wenches? In the barracks ? “W-what?”

“You heard me. Still claiming to be a princess?”

I say nothing.

“Good. Now if you want your food, you’ll be silent, won’t you?”

My stomach growls and I decide that maybe it is best to say nothing for now. I cross my arms over my chest protectively and glare, keeping to the shadows of my cell. He can come in anytime he likes, I realize, because a Fellian can move through shadows. I take another step back, twitching, in the hopes that my movements look erratic enough that he won’t teleport in and bother me.

What if I told you all the royal wenches from Lios were busy sucking cock down at the barracks?

That’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. There are no “royal wenches” other than myself and my sister, because Lionel had no siblings and Meryliese is dead. but I’ve got enough sense to know that I don’t want to push him. No one here believes I’m a princess anyhow. It won’t do me any good.

And I’m starving . So hungry that my stomach feels hollow and painful. I need to eat, or I’m going to become dizzy and sick. Well, sicker, considering I’m going to get sick anyhow if I don’t get my medicine soon. “I would like to eat.”

“Oh would you?” he sneers. “What a fine lady you are. Remember that here, you’re nothing but a slave.”

I don’t respond. Nothing I say is going to make a difference. I could tell him that I’m Candra Vestalin all day long and he’s not going to believe me. Candra Vestalin should be inside the tower, after all, resolutely fulfilling her duty to mankind and the goddess, and I’m the wretched creature that ran from it.

He grunts at my silence and then disappears in a flare of smoke. A moment later he returns, looping a skewer full of mushrooms onto a hook just outside my cell’s “window” and sets a stone cup outside on a ledge. “Your food, lady.”

The guard emphasizes the word as if I’m lying. “I need medicine, too. I have to take it every day.”

His reaction isn’t what I expect. Instead of sneering at me, his eyes widen. He grabs a length of material loose around his neck and immediately covers his mouth with it as he takes a step back. “You’re sick?”

“No, of course not.” His alarmed reaction has me worried and I decide to lie. “For my woman’s time.”

The look the guard shoots me is both one of relief and irritation.“Eat your food, female. If I catch you acting up, this’ll be the last meal you get for a while. Understand?”

I nod. I hate being such a weakling, but I’m no use to anyone if I’m too sick to function. Nemeth needs me—and the baby—alive and well. So I wait in silence until the guard gives me one last glare and leaves. Then, I reach through the bars and grab the skewer with the loop at the end, pull it off of the hook, and drag it into my cell. The mushrooms were grilled hours ago and are cold, but they remind me of Nemeth’s mushroom farm back in the tower, and those were always delicious. I gobble them down like a mannerless child and then lick my fingers. The mug is full of cold water and I drain it, too, then replace the dishes in their spot and retreat to my pallet.

Laying down, I listen to the noises of the cells around me. There’s a woman crying somewhere. A cough. A low murmur of voices. They all sound female, except for the occasional barked command of the guard, who’s male and Fellian. There’s no sunlight around here, and few of the magic lights that lined the walkways as I was dragged inside. I don’t know how deep I am in Darkfell.

I don’t even know if I’m still in Darkfell. How will Nemeth ever find me?

Pressing a hand to my forehead, I fight back frustrated tears. I just have to survive. He’ll come for me. He will. He won’t stop hunting until he finds me, because I’d do the very same for him.

Even so, I’m frightened.

“Psst.”

The sound is so low I’m not sure I hear it at first.

“Psst.”

I turn on my side, staring at the brick wall next to my shoulder, where the hissing sound is coming from. A finger wiggles through a crack in the mortar.

“Psst.” It says again. “Princess. Is that really you?”