Текст книги "Bound to the shadow prince"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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“I am pretty great,” I tease, running my hands over his chest. “It’s all true.”

He captures my mouth again and nips at my upper lip. “Did you make yourself come?”

“Not quite, alas. My fingers weren’t fast enough.” I’m feeling playful and more like myself despite our rather dreadful surroundings. This is who I am, I remind myself. A sexually confident tease who is loved by a big, delicious, winged Fellian. In or out of the tower, that won’t change.

“A shame,” Nemeth tells me between light, hungry kisses. “Luckily for you, I know where to find a mouth to finish the job.”

“Now that sounds like an excellent idea. Should I lie on my back?”

He looks around us, eyeing the moldy straw. With a quick kiss, he releases me and tears open one of our packed bags, digging out a blanket and spreading it over the ground. “Here,” he says, voice gruff and his eyes a deep, delicious, sated shade of green. “Lie down for me.”

I don’t need to be told twice. In the next moment, I’m on the blankets, wriggling with anticipation when he pushes my skirts up faster than I can haul them to my waist. He tugs my bloomers down, tearing at the delicate fabric with his remaining claws, and then his face disappears between my thighs. My breath catches in my throat as his hungry mouth latches onto my clit, going straight for the best part. With a moan, I cling to the sleek horns that arc back from his brow, trying to find something to hold onto. “Just like that, Nemeth,” I pant. “Gods, your mouth is so good.”

“Look at how wet you are,” he rasps between decadent licks of my cunt. “I love that touching me makes you so slick with need. All of this, just because you sucked my cock?”

I whimper when he laps at my clit. “I like sucking your cock.”

“Clearly.” A thick finger pushes inside me—one of the ones he keeps shorn short so he doesn’t claw me. He tongues my clit again and strokes his finger in and out of me, working me. I huff with need and rock against his hand, and this time, he doesn’t lift his mouth to talk. He just keeps sucking and licking, and the orgasm that was so close crashes over me with fierce intensity. I cry out, clinging to him as the ripples of pleasure wash through me, until his tongue no longer feels pleasant, but too sensitive. I gently tug him away, and Nemeth crawls over me, pressing one more wet kiss to my mouth—his lips tasting of my cunt—and then collapses next to me.

I slowly tug my skirts down, thinking of all the washing I’m going to have to do. Maybe I’ll just throw away this dress. I can’t very well return to Castle Lios in a gown that reeks of sex and is covered in dried cum. I have another dress packed away…somewhere. And I won’t need these gowns when we return to the castle. I’ll have my wardrobe back, and Riza, and Nurse. I want that so badly I can taste it, and I sigh happily, turning and tucking myself against Nemeth’s big form.

“Candra,” my mate murmurs, stroking my braided hair.

“Hmm?”

“I…” He hesitates, then holds me tighter against him. “It’s nothing. Just me worrying.”

Well now, that makes two of us. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” he replies. “Nothing at all.”

It takes everything I have not to touch my stomach. Has he figured it out…but no. If he knew, he’d say something, wouldn’t he?

Surely?

Chapter

Sixty

Iwake up to the sound of thunder crackling overhead and what sounds like rocks smashing against our flimsy shelter. Hail, I realize as I see a sprinkling of icy-looking pebbles outside. Beside me, Nemeth sits up, tense and uneasy. His wing is spread over me protectively, keeping me safe from the drips of rain that leak in through our shelter. “Good morning,” I say, rising slightly. My face feels hot and tight, thanks to the sunburn. “I see we have great weather for our travel.”

“The goddess has sent an angry storm to greet us,” Nemeth says, and when he jerks at a faint crack of thunder, I feel a wave of sympathy for him.

He didn’t like storms even in the protected halls of the tower. I can only imagine how loud and terrifying this must be. I reach over and touch his arm. “If this is the worst the goddess has for us, I’ll consider us lucky.”

“Mmm,” is all he says, and I can tell he’s unnerved by the ferocity of the storm. It does seem a little stronger than expected, but I also don’t spend a lot of time outside in storms myself. This barn isn’t much of a shelter, either. The entire thing sways with a strong breeze. “We should wait the storm out,” Nemeth tells me. “Hopefully it will not last too long.”

“I’m fine with waiting. It’s not as if I want to go traipsing about in the mud anyhow.” I hug one of the blankets tighter around my shoulders, watching the storm—and my lover. Nemeth had been in a good mood last night after our fooling around. He’d given me my medicine and then we’d snuggled in the blankets together. This morning he seems on edge. I nudge him. “Don’t think that a storm means you’re getting out of flying. I want to see you in the skies.”

The look he gives me is downright cranky.

I ignore it and drape his arm over my shoulders.

He gives in, tucking me under his arm, rubbing my back. “Ask your knife if this storm will last all day. We do not have enough of your medicine to linger in one place for long.”

Right. We have a week of medicine. After that, I’m out, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take us to get back to the capital of Lios and the palace itself. “If it keeps raining, we can just walk in the rain.” But I pull out my knife, reminded that we’re on limited time. I pull it from its sheath that I’ve kept tucked tight in my cleavage, and hold it in my hand. “Hello, knife. Is this storm going to last all day?”

The knife is still.

I give Nemeth a smug look. “See? The knife wants you to fly too.”

His expression remains grave. “Ask it if the weather is because of the goddess. If she’s angry.”

I bite my lip, because I hate the big questions. I’m never ready for the answers. I hold the knife, squeezing my eyes shut. “Is the goddess angry at us?”

Cringing, I wait for the knife to shudder. It does nothing.

I gasp and look over at Nemeth, delighted. “That’s a no, right?”

“It’s not a yes. That’s all.” He still looks pensive, his mouth hard. “I don’t understand. We disobeyed. Shouldn’t the goddess be furious at us?”

But I’m giddy, my heart fluttering with relief. “I’ll change the wording, then.” I concentrate on the knife. “Is the goddess angry?”

Shiver. Yes.

My stomach plummets again. “The goddess is angry, but not at us?”

Again, a shiver of affirmation.

I look over at Nemeth. “She’s angry all right. Maybe she’s furious that they forgot us and we were forced to leave?”

He doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers for any of this.”

Me either. I think for a moment longer, then ask, “Does anyone know we’ve left the tower?”

No shiver.

I suppose that’s a good thing. “Will we get to Lios in under seven days at the rate we’re traveling?”

No shiver.

Oh. I fight back panic, because there’s no sense in it. We knew I was low on medicine. I look over at Nemeth. “I guess we need to speed up.”

My mate nods. He gets to his feet and shakes his wings out. “I don’t mind walking in the rain.”

Me either. I need to walk for as long as I can, for as far as I can, and then hope that Nemeth can carry me. “Once the hail stops, we can go.”

It’s a miserable journey. My face is hot with sunburn and hurts despite the constant rain, as do my hands and my scalp. Even the wet weather isn’t all that soothing, as it soaks our clothes and turns the road into mud. I scrub at my dress as we walk, trying to get the worst of the cum stains out using the rain. I suppose that the good news is that when it dries, it’ll be so wrinkled and unsightly that no one will notice a few stains.

The land around us remains flat and rocky, with only a few scrubby bushes and very few trees to break up the landscape. It’s rather unpleasant, but there are distant hills that hint at a change in scenery, at least.

“Does any of this look familiar to you?” Nemeth asks me.

I shake my head. “I was too miserable to pay attention to the scenery when I was brought here,” I admit. “I vaguely recall following the coast and driving through a few little towns along the way.”

“Well, we’re following the coast,” Nemeth agrees, gesturing at the horizon to the east, where just out of sight, the waters of the sea gleam invitingly.

“Perhaps a boat?” I ask. “To speed up our travel?” I’m all too aware that the knife says we won’t get to the castle in time. We need a way to speed up somehow, to walk faster…something. Anything.

“Do you know how to sail?” Nemeth asks me.

“Well…no. Do you?”

His brows go up. “Candra…my people live inside a mountain.”

“Is that a no, then?” I joke.

He stares at me, and then his big shoulders shake with laughter. A chuckle rumbles out of him, and the heavy pack on his back jostles with the force of his laughter. I smile as I walk at his side, pleased that out of everything, I can still make him laugh. “It’s not as if we’re knee-deep in boats anyhow,” I admit. “I’m just trying to think of alternatives to walking.”

“We will figure something out,” he promises me.

After a soggy midday meal, the rain finally eases off. My clothing begins to dry and my fingers no longer resemble dried prunes. The sun comes out, and the temperature immediately changes from cool and pleasant (if wet) to steamy and overly warm.

Doesn’t matter. It’s clear and that’s all that matters. When I spot a large boulder by the roadside, I immediately head for it, climbing atop a few smaller rocks and then sitting down atop it with my damp skirts spread.

“Time for a rest?” Nemeth asks. “I can carry you if you’re too tired to keep going.”

“I’m fine,” I lie, because I’m tired as shite and want nothing more than to crawl back to that tumbledown shed, moldy hay and all. But I give Nemeth a bright smile and gesture at his pack. “You can take that off for now, since you’re going to try flying.”

“I am?” He arches a heavy brow at me.

“You are,” I say firmly. “You’ll never know unless you try.”

He doesn’t look eager, though. “I could spare myself the humiliation and ask your blade if I can fly.”

“Or…you can just do it anyhow. I promise not to laugh.” I clasp my hands tightly in my lap so he doesn’t see how anxious I am. It’s my fault that his wing is scarred, after all. He was wounded saving me, and on top of that, I’m the one that had to stitch it up. If it’s all wrong, it’s doubly my fault. But I keep my tone bright. “After all, I can’t fly a lick, so anything you do is far better than anything I could manage. Give it a try, love. There’s no one here to see but me.”

Nemeth scowls in my direction, but he takes the pack off and sets it down at the base of the boulder, out of the mud. I hold my breath as he takes a few steps out, rotating his arms as if he’s about to enter battle and needs his muscles loose. First one arm and then the other. He’s breathtaking, his shoulders as broad as the day I first saw him, and if he’s lost any muscle, I wouldn’t know it. Hasn’t he done his exercises faithfully every day? Hasn’t he stretched his wings constantly, trying to keep them in shape?

I hope it’s not for nothing. If I could make his wings work simply by worrying, he’d be airborne right now.

Nemeth spreads his wings with a ripple, and everything inside me clenches. Gods, his wings are enormous. I stare in fascination, wondering if this is the first time I’ve seen him spread them like this. He’s always been confined by the tower, and the ceilings and halls that weren’t nearly big enough for him. His wingspan is enormous, easily twice as wide as he is tall, and my heart aches at the sight of the dull pink stripe that slashes across the membrane of one. His scar. He’s right that it looks tight there, the membrane taut and unpleasant looking around it. As I watch, he strains one wing and then stretches the other out, trying to match. The scarred wing won’t go out as far as the other.

He turns to look at me, and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. I won’t show him my distress. Instead, I beam as if my heart isn’t breaking inside and give him an encouraging gesture. “Go on! You’ll do wonderfully.”

Nemeth nods and closes his eyes. Then, his powerful legs seem to bunch up, his wings folding in and he flings himself upward, launching into the air.

I hold my breath, watching as he immediately flicks his wings out the moment he’s in the air, flapping to gain height. His movements are awkward, the one wing clearly crippling him. He flounders, listing to one side, and I press a fist to my lips so I don’t scream aloud. But then he rights himself, and, wobbling through the air, manages to keep flying. His wings beat with heavy, strong waves, and he stays in the air. I watch as he soars higher, and if it isn’t a pretty flight, or a fast one, it’s still flight and I’m so proud of him.

Hands clasped over my heart, I watch as he circles high in the skies, flying so far away he looks like a drunken bird. I’m not worried—I know he’ll come back for me. And when he disappears from sight, I adjust my skirts, trying to dry them in the sunlight, and make sure my head is covered with my hood so I don’t sunburn any further.

Nemeth isn’t gone for very long. When I look up again he’s returning, his flight obvious by the jerky movement of his wings. I watch him with pride, waving as he approaches. To a normal human, he might look fearsome, a dark gray demon with bat wings come to steal them away from their home, an evil Fellian monster. But I can see the pride on his face as he comes to a clumsy landing on the boulder beside me. I can also see the sheen of sweat on his skin and know that was harder for him than he’d ever let on. “You were magnificent,” I tell him proudly. “Utterly magnificent.”

“Dragon shite,” he says, crouching low and panting. But he grins, displaying his fangs. “It was terrible and I’m pretty sure I strained something in my back, but I could fly. That’s one worry handled.”

“How did your repaired wing do?”

“It’s weak,” he admits. “Weak and the damaged section pulls constantly when I beat my wings. But I’m hoping with time it’ll grow as strong as the other once more.” He scrubs a hand down his sweaty face, but then grins at me. “It still felt amazing.”

“I’m so glad.” I could burst with how happy I am for him. “I knew you could do it.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he admits. “I’m not strong enough yet to carry you, and we have to be careful. If any humans see me, they might shoot first and ask questions later.” He straightens to his full height. “Speaking of humans, I saw a settlement to the north. We should head there.”

“What? Why?” Hot panic flares in my chest. “Didn’t you just say humans would attack you? If there’s a settlement, I’m thinking we should avoid it entirely.”

Nemeth shakes his head. “You need supplies for your potion. We need food. You need better shoes. We need a decent place to sleep. And if it’s a small settlement, perhaps we should test the waters anyhow. See how they react to my presence.”

“There’s a war,” I blurt out. “A war between Darkfell and Lios. Lionel started one the moment I left. You can’t go into a human settlement, Nemeth. You just can’t.” This entire plan suddenly seems the height of stupidity. What made me think I could just stroll back to Castle Lios with a Fellian at my side and assume it would all be fine? I’ve got an enemy husband…and a baby on the way. The thought of something happening to either of them is horrifying.

This is a nightmare. Why didn’t I think this through? Why am I taking him to a war zone where he’s the enemy?

I grab his hands, frantic. “We should go to your people instead. We can still go back. We’ll return to the tower and head to Darkfell⁠—”

“Love,” Nemeth says softly. “I know all about the war.”

My tongue glues to the roof of my mouth. “You…do?”

He nods. “Your king is not the most subtle of rulers. Of course we saw his fleet, and knew he was waiting for the right moment to sail after Darkfell. My people were ready for him. He will not win.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how I feel about that. Part of me hates Lionel—the same part of me that loves Nemeth—but Lios is my home. My sister is its queen. A small part of me still wants them to win, resents the idea that they might lose to Darkfell.

But then I remind myself that Erynne wanted Nemeth killed, and all of my hesitation falls away. “You’re not mad I didn’t say anything?”

He shakes his head, rubbing my hands. “I know what it is like. You and I come from very different peoples who have set expectations upon us.” His expression grows vague, sad. “I am certain there will be other things that arise that we have kept from one another.”

Is he referring to the baby? The fact that the knife says that I have Fellian blood in my veins?

“But come. Let us see who is in this settlement. If they try to attack, I will fly out of reach. You will be safe—they would not dare harm their princess.” He pulls me to my feet atop the rock. “And we need supplies.”

Chapter

Sixty-One

My head is full of the old stories as we approach the village. Every Vestalin knows all the stories of those that lived in the tower, of the Royal Offerings from times past. I think of all the tales of those that left the tower early, and the angry mobs that met them. I used to side with the angry villagers, too. What sort of selfish piece of dragon shite would abandon the tower, knowing they were condemning the entire world to famine and flood?

But now I am that selfish piece of dragon shite.

And I really do not want to be killed by pitchfork-wielding villagers.

We wear our heavy cloaks despite the steamy heat of the afternoon, just so we can try to hide Nemeth’s wings until the last moment. I keep my magical blade tight in my hand, just in case I need to stab someone for threatening my mate.

All my worry is for nothing—the village is deserted.

No one comes out to greet us. The fields we pass are fallow and overgrown with weeds. There are no cattle, no dogs, not even a single scurrying rat to cross the muddy streets. There are no crops, and the only vegetation other than weeds is a sapling at the far end of town. It’s completely empty, and what’s worse, it looks as if it’s been empty for a while. The thatched roofs are falling in and a broken cart in the middle of the street looks long-abandoned.

There won’t be any food here.

In a way, I’m relieved. Nemeth lowers his hood, exposing the sharp planes of his gray face and his horns, so there must be no one here to see that he’s Fellian. “Abandoned.”

“Looks like,” I agree, and gesture at the three small altars to the gods nearby. They’re overgrown and covered in windblown dirt, just like the last ones. “I don’t think whoever lived here left recently, either.”

“Then they won’t mind if we search for food,” Nemeth tells me. “Let’s check these houses for anything we can use.”

It feels wrong to even consider it, but I know he’s being practical. If it was left behind, it’s fair game. Our supplies must be running lower than I thought. It starts to rain again, a heavy downpour, and we wordlessly split up to look around.

I duck into the first house. I would have called it a hovel back in my court days, but I’ve got a new appreciation for rough living after my time in the tower. Despite the fact that these people didn’t have much, everything is put away. There are no plates on the table, and the lone, sad-looking bed is made. There’s no food to be found, either. I check in every pot. I check the root cellar. Nothing. The next house is much the same, and bewildered, I head out to find Nemeth. He stands in the center of the cluster of houses despite the heavy rain, his gaze thoughtful.

“There’s nothing here,” I say to him as I approach. I pull my hood over my head, annoyed by the constant rain pattering on my face. “No food. No people. They didn’t leave in a hurry, either. They’re just…gone.”

He gives me an uneasy look. “I found something.”

Uh oh. I don’t like that expression on his face. “What?” I ask warily. “What is it?”

“Come,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder to steer me. “And…stay close.”

Oh no.

He leads me to the edge of the small settlement, and the rain keeps coming down harder. Everything around us is turning into one big muddy puddle, but that can’t be the reason everyone left. The worry of it keeps turning over in my mind, and I’m so focused on trying to understand the problem that it takes me a moment to realize Nemeth has paused.

I look up—and gasp.

What I thought was a sad-looking tree at the edge of town isn’t a tree at all. It’s a large stake, and spitted upon it is the desiccated corpse of a Fellian. His wings have been cut off and the remnants of his kilt flutter in the breeze. The stake has been lodged between his thighs and the tip of it protrudes from his mouth, his head bent backward, his horns shorn off.

I have no words. I just stare.

“I guess that answers if I will be welcome or not,” Nemeth says in a low voice.

“Gods,” I whisper, clutching my knife tightly. “Who would do this?”

“Liosians, obviously.” His tone is hard. “Who else?”

But why? I want to ask. Why be so cruel? But I know the answer already. If the supposedly erudite, learned courts of Lios considered the Fellians devils and pure evil, what must the crude, uneducated villages think? They wouldn’t stop to ask if a Fellian was lost or needed help. They’d kill first and ask questions later.

Then again, how do I know he was lost and looking for help? Maybe he came here to attack and was dispatched by the village. Am I automatically just assuming the Fellian is kind and understanding because of Nemeth?

Maybe I’m more of a traitor than I thought.

It continues to rain on us for the rest of the day.

After the discovery of the dead Fellian—the only person we’ve seen, dead or alive—we don’t want to stay near the abandoned village. We walk on, even though the weather is unpleasant. It continues to grow even more unpleasant throughout the day, the rain falling so heavily at one point that I can’t see farther than my outstretched hand. My teeth chatter with the cold, and walking becomes even more of a chore, the mud so thick it sucks at my feet.

Everything around us has turned into a swamp. This has to be the goddess’s wrath. Just like my knife said, she’s angry and she’s taking it out on the world around us. Horrible guilt sweeps through me and I want to cry…except I don’t want to add to the wetness falling from the sky.

I’ll cry when I’m nice and dry and relaxed, I tell myself.

That night, we sleep out in the open because there’s nowhere else to go. It rains on us the entire time, and even though Nemeth spreads a wing protectively over me, I’m already soaked to the bone. It’s the most miserable night I’ve ever spent, and when it continues to pour rain in the morning, I dread taking one more step in my soaked shoes.

“Our food supplies are soaked,” Nemeth tells me as he hands over a strip of bloated jerky. “The vegetables are going to rot if this keeps up. Actually, everything will.”

I stare at the bit of grayish jerky, and my stomach gives a queasy flip. Before I can hand it back, my mouth fills with saliva. I have just enough time to turn my head and bend over before the contents of my stomach come up. Nemeth wraps a strong arm around my waist, holding me so I don’t collapse in the mud. It takes forever for the vomiting to cease, and when it does, I’m left weak and shaky.

“Candra?” Nemeth asks, worry in his voice. “Are you all right?”

I manage a nod. “I’m fine. I don’t think I can eat though.” My stomach roils at the thought. “Maybe just some water.”

He holds me while I sip and wash my mouth out. It takes several minutes for the nausea to abate, but then I feel much better. I straighten and give Nemeth a weary smile. “Shall we keep going?”

“You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Candra, don’t lie to me. Is it your potion? Is it not working as it should?” The look on his face is frantic. “Do you need another dose?”

I shake my head. “It’s not the potion. I just…I don’t want to eat water-bloated food supplies.”

“That might be all we have left soon.” He glances up at the sky. “This rain is never-ending.”

It’s because the goddess is angry. She’s punishing the world because we left the tower. Maybe she’s going to rain us right out of our cities and sweep us all out to sea. Never mind that we didn’t want to leave until we had to. “Let’s keep going.”

“I’m worried about you, milettahn.” Nemeth doesn’t let go of me. “If you’re sick…”

“I’m sure it’s just the weather,” I lie. I need to ask my knife questions, to make sure Nemeth won’t be upset that I’m pregnant. I don’t want him to feel I lied or that I’m using him. Or worse, trapping him at my side.

I have to tell him today, for better or for worse. I just need to find the right moment.

Not right now, I decide. I need to gather my courage first. Because if Nemeth is furious with me, I don’t know what I’ll do.

We find another abandoned town close to sunset. This one is bigger than the last, but just as empty. We call out, looking for anyone that lives nearby, but our searching is fruitless. The only thing we find is a recently deceased cow, stiff legs stuck in the mud. It looks skinny and unhealthy enough that we avoid going near it. The one bright point in this town? No dead Fellians.

Nemeth picks out a small house in the midst of a cluster of houses. It’s got a decent thatched roof, and when we step inside, the never-ending rain isn’t pouring from the ceiling. “We’ll stay here tonight,” he tells me.

I’m too tired and soaked to protest. As weird as it is to think of spending the evening in a stranger’s bed, it’s warm and dry and that’s all I care about. Nemeth barricades the door and covers the windows, latching the creaky wooden shutters. Strangely enough, I find being boxed in like this comforting. It reminds me a bit of the tower and its thick, impenetrable walls.

“We can’t make a fire tonight, Candra,” my mate tells me. “With our luck, the rain would clear and then everyone would see our chimney smoking.” He digs through a trunk at the foot of one of the beds. “There are plenty of blankets, though. We can spread out our clothes and hope they dry a bit.”

I don’t need to be told twice. As Nemeth pulls out one of his lamps and taps it to turn it on, I strip off my soaked layers. The room is frigid—two days of rain has made the air chilly and unpleasant—and I shiver as I wrap myself in a musty wool blanket. I sit on the bed and watch as Nemeth spreads out our possessions around the cottage, trying to dry out everything. Our foodstuffs are a pathetically small bundle, but I know from checking the cottages that there’s no food here. There’s no food anywhere.

As if he can read my mind, Nemeth comes to my side with a sodden bit of traveling cake, full of the last of our nuts. He holds it out to me. “Eat this. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“Neither have you,” I point out, but I take it from him.

The traveling cake is wet and unpleasant in my hand, and I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want to eat it, but I know I have to eat something. Without food in my stomach, my medicine will make me dizzy. And I’m carrying a child…

Gingerly, I take a small, mushy bite. “Yum yum.”

Satisfied that I’m eating, he turns back to the table and continues spreading out our supplies to dry. “It’ll be less wet in the morning, but you can’t wait that long between meals. This is hard enough on you as it is.”

On…me? We’re in this together. It’s hard for both of us. I eye him skeptically as I take another wet bite. “Do you think everyone’s gone because of the war?”

Nemeth pauses, thinking. “It seems doubtful. A benevolent ruler might let his people know that they’d be safe behind the protected walls of his capital. Does that seem like something Lionel would do?”

Lionel? Benevolent? The thought is ludicrous. “I once watched Lionel grind a piece of crust under his boot just so the poor wouldn’t have a scrap from the king’s plate.”

“So that’s a no.” Nemeth turns to me with a wry look.

“It’s definitely a no.” I glance around me, at the small house. It’s no more than two rooms, but they’re tidy rooms. Whoever lived here before was proud of their home. The wooden shutters over the windows are carved and the quilt on the bed is clearly the result of many hours of tedious work. “Why would someone leave their home behind? With all their things?”

“Perhaps they did not have a choice.” Nemeth shrugs off his cloak and hangs it over the back of a chair.

“So…that has to be the war, right?”

“If the war called up the men, why are the women and children not here? Where are the elders? The infirm?” Nemeth shakes his head. “Something has happened and everyone has left this place behind.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s the rains,” I grumble, hugging the blanket closer to my chest. “Nothing can grow in the fields when everything’s a mud pit. But the goddess wouldn’t have cast her wrath down on anyone until we left the tower, and that was just a few days ago. These people have been gone for a while.” I run my finger on the edge of the bed frame and the dust there. “Maybe it’s food. Remember the men that came to the tower?”

Nemeth turns and arches a brow at me. His scarred wing flicks. “I have not forgotten.”

“Right. Sorry.” I give him an apologetic little smile. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

“I like hearing it. Your voice is always a pleasant one.” He moves to the far side of the table and unhooks his belt, removing his sodden kilt. “Continue.”

I watch him undress, distracted. “Those men came looking for food. They knew we had some and were willing to try and steal it from us. And then after that, we got no supplies. Maybe there was no food to bring us? Maybe everyone’s been hungry and that’s why they’re all gone.”

Nemeth considers for a moment. “War would definitely slow down trade, and if there was a blockade, I could see food not getting through. And then we have the weather.” He wrings out the edge of his cloak, and water spatters all over the floor. “But if that’s what has happened, where did all these people flee to in the hopes that they would be fed?”