Текст книги "Bound to the shadow prince"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Chapter

Seventy-Five

Itug at one seawater-soaked strap that crosses his chest. “Would it be inappropriate of me to take my Fellian husband’s knot into my mouth and suck on it until he comes?”

Nemeth’s breath grows ragged. “I…I haven’t bathed.”

I pretend to look around his quarters. “I thought I saw a bathing pool around here. I’m happy to bathe you first.” Personally, I’ve swallowed enough seawater in the last few weeks that I don’t care if his skin tastes like salt and sweat. I don’t care about anything except touching him. He could drag his dick through mud in the next moment and I’d still want to lick him clean, I want him so badly.

He groans and jumps to his feet. Before I can ask where he’s going, he shadow-teleports over to the circle and kicks the stone carving into it. A moment later, he’s back at my side, pulling me into his arms and then teleporting us both to the bathing pool. With a hungry growl, he rips at the front of my dress.

That makes me squeak in distress. “It’s my last gown⁠—”

“I’ll get you new ones,” he promises, tearing the worn fabric away. My breasts spill out, bouncing in the cool air.

I gasp, but I’m aroused at his ferocity. I love this side of Nemeth. I love that he’s here. I love that he came for me, that he’s just as hungry to touch me as I am to touch him.

He captures one breast in his hand, dropping to a crouch and nuzzling at the tip of the other. I whimper, heat sizzling through me as he rips the rest of my dress off even as he tongues my nipple, teasing the other with his thumb. “I thought I was going to suck on your knot⁠—”

“Patience,” Nemeth growls. “I need to claim you first.”

I bite back a whimper, because I need that, too. Gods, do I need that. He gets to his feet and flips me around onto my belly, pushing me over the edge of the pool. I scramble to hold onto something as he kicks my feet apart, because I know what’s coming next and I’m so damned ready for it I could scream. Big hands grip my hips, hauling me up slightly, and in the next moment, the tip of him brushes against my entrance.

That’s the only warning I get before he plunges deep.

With a cry, I shudder and brace myself against the steps to the pool. He thrusts into me again, surging our joined bodies forward, and his knot—rock hard and insistent—presses against my entrance. Nemeth pounds into me, growling. “Take my knot. Take it, Candra.”

He’s never been so fierce. So relentless as he hammers into me, pressing against my core as if he can somehow work his knot in with sheer determination. Gods, it’s so sexy. I love that he’s using me. “Make me come,” I pant. “Then you can knot me.”

Nemeth pumps into me again, and his big hand slides between my thighs. He spanks my pussy, stretched tight around him, and I squeal in surprise at the sensation. That should not have felt nearly as good as it did, but when he does it a second time, I clench up in a burst of pleasure.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he demands. “My mate. My bride.”

He spanks my pussy again, then massages my clit with his thick fingers. I come, choking on my breath at the sheer force of my climax, and with a roar, he presses his knot into my slickened heat, claiming me as his. I pant through the tight sensation, more pleasure prickling up and down my spine as he comes, our bodies locked together. He clutches me in place, holding me tight, and I try to catch my breath, curls of pleasure drifting through my body. I’m dimly aware of the absolute stretch of his cock inside me, of his knot pulsing just within my channel, and the pleasure keeps flowing, pulsing in time with our heartbeats.

“So much for a bath,” I manage.

“Oh, we’ve just begun,” my mate purrs, rubbing a big hand down my spine. “I can bathe you while knotted inside you, my pretty human.”

I whimper, because that sounds both obscenely delicious and like far too much. Nemeth is determined, though. He tugs me upright, our bodies still locked tight, and when I flail, he wraps a big arm around my waist, holding me anchored in front of him. With that, he spreads his wings for balance and climbs into the pool.

And I moan as the heat of the water soaks into my bones. “It’s warm. Gods, this is amazing.”

“Here I thought you were tired of water,” Nemeth murmurs, sinking our joined bodies deeper into the bath.

“I am absolutely sick to death of the sea,” I point out. “A nice clean hot bath is a completely different thing.” I lean back against his broad chest contentedly…or at least, as contented as one can be when currently knotted by their Fellian lover. Every twitch of his body ripples through mine, making my cunt clench tight around his thick knot. A repeat of our furious lovemaking is not far from my thoughts.

Nemeth must be thinking the same sorts of things because he cups one hand, dribbling water over my breasts, and then begins to wash them as if they’re the dirtiest part of me. I moan when he drags his thumbs deliberately over my nipples, causing me to squirm atop his cock. “Unfair,” I pant. “I can’t get away from you.”

“That’s why this is the best time to do this.” His hand slides lower to my belly, caressing it. “How do you feel?”

I know the question is more than how I feel. He’s asking how the baby is, too. “I think everything is fine.”

“Does anyone suspect…” He brushes his fingers over my stomach again.

I snort. “Please. I couldn’t even get them to believe that I was Princess Candra. You think anyone stopped to look at me closely?” I lean back against his chest, closing my eyes as he pours more water over me in the laziest, sexiest bath ever. “It’s weird, actually. I thought we’d have people throwing rocks at us the moment we showed up, but no one seems to believe me when I tell them who I am. They think Princess Candromeda Vestalin is still in the tower. But if that’s the case, wouldn’t they notice the weather? How awful things are? Surely the goddess’s wrath is a noticeable change.”

“Aye,” Nemeth says in a quiet voice, his fingers skimming down my arm. “I’m not sure I understand it myself. Darkfell is…different. Quiet. Empty. I don’t understand it. I hope my brother can give me answers.”

“You need to tell him to free my sister,” I say. “And Riza. And⁠—”

“One thing at a time,” Nemeth interrupts. “I know you are worried, but Ivornath does not like to be told what to do. I will have to be careful when dealing with him.” He drags a wet finger up and down my arm and then shifts his weight, seating me more heavily upon his knot. “I do not want to think about my brother right now. I want to think about pleasuring my beautiful mate so hard that she will never entertain the thought of leaving me.”

I nearly choke at that. Pleasure me so hard I won’t leave? Where by all the gods would I go? There’s nothing left. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

Nemeth’s arms tighten around me and he holds me close. “I never planned this.”

Planned what? There’s such frustration in his voice. “Nemeth⁠—”

“I never imagined we’d come to Darkfell,” he tells me, one arm locking around my waist and the other skimming up my throat in a possessive gesture. His hips twitch under the water, pushing him deeper into me, and I suck in a breath. “I thought that when we left the tower, I would follow you. I’d follow you anywhere. You know that, don’t you, Candra?”

I whimper, because his cock is swelling inside me, his words a teasing whisper against my ear.

“My plan was always to return with you. To be yours.”

Is that what he’s worried about? I know Nemeth is a plotter. I know he likes to have everything thought out and figured in advance. “This isn’t your fault,” I breathe, biting my lip when he shudders and I feel every bit of it. “Fuck the plans. We’ll make new ones.”

“Just…never lose faith in me, Candra. Everything I do is for you. For us.” His arms harden around me, that hand gripping my throat just tight enough that I feel the prick of claws. It sends a shiver of arousal down my spine. Nemeth lets out a ragged breath that sounds curiously close to a sob. “I thought I’d lost you yesterday. I thought I lost you and there was nothing left for me…”

I reach behind me, caressing his jaw. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

And I wriggle against his cock in a very deliberate manner. He doesn’t need to dwell on the past, I decide. For now, we think of the future. And when he bends me over the edge of the tub again, his hand on my clit, I can’t think of anything at all.

I wake up some time later, my hair dry, my body clean, and I’m alone in the bed in Nemeth’s chambers. Yawning, I sit up and eye the statue sitting in the center of the teleportation circle. There’s a note on the bed, too, and I squint at it, sounding out the words because I really am shite at reading.

Have gone to speak to my brother. Stay here. There is a food tray in the antechamber. I will return soon.

Hmm.

I move around Nemeth’s home, eyeballing his belongings. It’s strange, because this place is absolutely not built for humans. The bed is large and circular and low, designed for wings and thick legs that bend backward. There’s a lavatory on this floor, along with the bathing pool, but other than that, I can go nowhere. I pick up a mushroom from the tray and eat it like a piece of fruit, moving to the ledge and eyeing the spread of rooms below. I know he spent most of his life at the Alabaster Citadel, preparing for a life inside the tower. Did he come home often? Was this a refuge for him or just another prison?

More than that, is he glad to be back?

I wander around his quarters for a bit longer, then dig into the tray. There’s a bitter cheese and some bread, and a handful of nuts, along with more mushrooms. I eat everything and avoid the wine carafe, drinking water instead. When Nemeth doesn’t return, I yawn and retreat back into the bed.

Nemeth must be meeting with his brothers. He’s rarely ever mentioned them to me. While I’d bring up Erynne regularly, he never talked of his family. At first I thought it was because he was deliberately hiding information from me, but I think he’s just not close to them. After all, I rarely speak of Meryliese.

Still, I hope they are being kind to him. I hope they don’t rage at him for leaving the tower.

I wish I was there. Nemeth is too polite, too kind. I’d let his brothers know what I truly think of them and the fact that they left us to starve in the tower.

Perhaps that’s why I’m here alone while he’s visiting them.

I doze throughout the afternoon, only to awaken again to a large body sliding into the bed next to me. I roll over to my side, and Nemeth tucks me against him, spooning my smaller form against him. He holds me tight for a long moment, then sighs heavily.

“It went that well, hmm?” I ask, tucking my arms against his.

“My brothers can be very stubborn.”

Not surprising, given that one is the king. “What did you talk about?”

He hesitates, then presses his mouth against the back of my head, breathing in my scent. “They were surprised I left the tower. They said they sent a delegation with food but they must not have made it.”

“Dragon shite,” I mutter, rolling over to look at him. “Do you buy that?”

He thinks for a moment. “No.”

I study his face. He seems as if he’s aged in the last day. Nemeth’s expression is worn and tired, as if the weight of the world is suddenly upon his shoulders. For what feels like the millionth time, I wish we were back in our tower, alone and oblivious to the world outside. “Did you tell them that I’m here with you?”

Nemeth’s mouth twists slightly. “I did. They do not believe you’re my mate. A Fellian should never marry one of our ancient enemies.” His voice is bitter. “They called me a fool and said I was lying.”

I sit up and take his hand in mine, turning over his palm to display the bite mark tattooed there. “They said this was a lie?”

“They said it didn’t count.”

“Did you tell them about the baby?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to tell them any more than I have to. I don’t trust them, Candra. I know they’re my brothers and I know we must try to get along so we have a safe place, but I just want to grab our things and leave this place.” His expression is hard. “Tonight.”

Leave? I stare at him. “And go where?”

Nemeth shrugs. “Get supplies and return to our tower. Stay there for the rest of the seven years and wait out the goddess’s anger. Perhaps she will be appeased if we return.”

I shake my head at him. “And my sister? My people? What am I supposed to do? I can’t leave them behind. I can’t abandon them to slavery and just run off as if I don’t know what’s happening here.” I lean in. “Nemeth, is what they say about the humans true? That they’re forcing them to have sex with Fellians? The women? I can’t leave them.”

“Candra—”

“No,” I tell him firmly. “I don’t care about the war. I don’t care about who won or who lost. I want to see my sister and her children. I want to see Riza and my nurse. I want to know if my people are all right. I can’t bury my head in the sand and pretend everything is fine and go back to the tower, Nemeth.”

He sighs, the sound heavy and defeated, and sits up. His hand scrubs down his face, and he looks so, so tired. I feel guilty for pushing him, but I don’t know what else to do. “The women of Lios have been enslaved, yes. I have not heard if they are serving sexually, but they were brought here as spoils of war.”

“Well we need to free them, then.”

“How am I to do that?” Nemeth shakes his head at me. “My brother does not believe me when I say I have a human wife. They believe I should put a collar on your throat and enslave you, too. That it’s what Liosians deserve after picking a war. That it’s what they deserve because⁠—”

He cuts off abruptly, his jaw clenching.

“Because of what?” I prompt.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “I am forbidden to speak of it.”

“Forbidden by who?” When he doesn’t look me in the eye, I bend forward, trying to shove my face in his sights. “Forbidden by who, Nemeth? I’m your wife. I’m your partner. What’s going on?”

But he only shakes his head again. “I cannot say, Candra. Please leave it at that.”

I stare at him as he gets out of bed and heads across the room to pick up a book. He’s changed his clothing, I realize. Gone is the simple leather kilt, replaced by something far more ornate and gilded, a symbol of the First House slung around his neck in a thick decorative chain.

Who is this man that I married? “How can you side with them? Over slavery?”

“Do you mean, how can I condone my people for claiming women left behind by the men who came to murder us? Those women did not stop their bloodthirsty husbands when they headed off to war to kill the Fellian people. But that is acceptable because we are the enemy, yes?” Nemeth’s voice grows hard. “Candra, you are my mate and the thing I love most in this world, but your people attacked mine. Demanding that my brothers release their war prizes will not go over well. I must pick and choose my battles, and right now I am most concerned with us staying alive.”

Alive? I stare at him, uncomprehending. “You truly think they would kill you? They’re your brothers.”

His jaw clenches and he looks away. “All I know is that they did not send us food. They did not believe in our mating. They will not give you status amongst our people. I have done everything they asked and—” His mouth snaps shut. “No more.”

“What did they ask you to do?” I whisper.

“To spy inside the tower of course. To report back.” He rubs a hand on his jaw. “I am tired of the throne controlling my life, Candra. When I say they cannot be trusted, I am not overreacting or exaggerating. They are my brothers but…I feel as if I do not know them.”

There’s such despair in his eyes that I feel like an absolute arse for my demands. He’s trying as hard as he can to make this work. I know he is. I move forward and cup his face in my hands.

“All I have is you,” Nemeth says, voice hoarse. “You may think I have my home and my family, but my home is you. My family is you, Candra. You’re everything, and I’m navigating this the best I can because I want nothing more than to keep you safe.”

I reach up and stroke his horns, because I know they’re sensitive. It’s the touch of a lover, one that I hope distracts him a little from the worries he carries. “I love you, Nemeth. We’re a team. And if it takes me wearing a collar in order to talk to your brothers, then that is what I shall do. It’s a trinket. It means nothing to me.”

Nemeth doesn’t look reassured, though. If anything, he looks more worried.

Chapter

Seventy-Six

The king calls for Nemeth the next day…and for him to bring me.

The missive comes to Nemeth’s door, delivered in an ornate parchment sealed with wax. I watch over the ledge as Nemeth takes the note from the small box by the door and frowns deeply as he reads it. “Ivornath,” he growls. “I should have known.”

“Is this bad?” I ask. “Didn’t you see Ivornath yesterday?”

He shakes his head. “I visited Ajaxi. Ivornath refused to see me.”

Well that makes me nervous. Still, I’d wanted to see Ivornath, hadn’t I? This is my chance. I’m good at court games, at wheedling and ingratiating myself. At flirting and making someone feel appreciated. I’m confident I can handle Ivornath. A little flattery, a little awe tossed his way, and then when he sees I’m nothing to be frightened of, we pitch for my sister’s freedom, along with Riza and everyone else.

He just needs a bit of ass-kissing, I suspect. Even Lionel wasn’t immune when I turned on the charm.

I can handle this. Nemeth might be his brother, but he’s said before that he’s not a diplomat. “Perfect,” I tell Nemeth. “Show me what we have to wear.”

A few hours later, my hair is pulled back into an elaborate rope braid decked with golden chains and anchored over one shoulder, my eyes rimmed with a bit of green cosmetic to show off their color. My bruises are covered with a pale powder, and my new dress is courtesy of the trunk of clothing (along with the cosmetics) that were brought in by Fellian servants.

It’s proof that Nemeth has some pull around here, at least, no matter what he thinks.

The Fellian clothing for women is a little different than what I’m used to. There are no tight decorative sleeves, no ornate belts to show off the curve of the hips. Instead, the dress is a sack of glossy, flowing material with a square neck and no sleeves. Instead, there are two thin ties that can be fastened over the neck, leaving the back bare for wings. A quick look in the mirror shows me that I look short and dumpy in the long dress. It’s not a flattering look, but it hides my belly well thanks to my large breasts. It’s not a very warm outfit for the cold under-mountain, more proof that Fellians run hotter than humans. Luckily for me, Nemeth takes pity on my shivering and gives me a thick, woolly wrap for my shoulders that is covered with his family symbol.

A thick plain metal collar is fastened around my neck, and I decide I hate it.

Nemeth is dressed finely, too. I’m struck again how handsome he is. He puts on a jewel breastplate of hammered metal, the sigil of the First House displayed across the front and held onto his shoulders and waist by straps of thick leather so as to avoid his wings. His kilt is heavily gilded as well, and a heavy ceremonial hammer is hung at his waist—the ancient symbol of the First House and the symbol of the weapon Ravendor Vestalin used to smite her Fellian husband.

I decide I hate it, too.

“Are you ready?” Nemeth asks me, taking my hand in his. He turns my palm over, rubbing his thumb over the bite mark. “Say the word, and I will leave you here. We will tell them you feel unwell. That you ate something that disagrees with you.”

I shake my head. “I’m going with you, and I plan on charming your brother so he’ll have no choice but to let my sister and the other Liosians go. They’re just women. His war wasn’t with them.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Nemeth asks.

I won’t even consider such a thing. “He will.”

I’m mentally getting back into my “court” personality as Nemeth wraps his wings around me and tucks me under his chin. One dizzying moment later and we’ve teleported onto a circle in front of the home of the king. If I was expecting a palace, I’ve been mistaken. It looks more like a fortress hewn from stone, but narrow and climbing up the walls of the mountain itself. Rock pillars frame a metal double door, two guards standing outside. Above the first floor, windows cluster like lines of grapes growing in a row, each window covered in ornate stained glass. The rooms look small compared to Castle Lios’s expansive rooms and winding halls, but there’s so many windows that there’s no question in my mind that this is where the ruler of this place lives.

The guards cover their mouths with scarves as we appear in the courtyard, and I could swear they flinch. Not a good sign.

Nemeth releases me and I step dutifully behind him, pretending to be subservient. As I do, I eye our surroundings. We’re in a gated courtyard on the “bottom” floor of the mountain, surrounded by high stone walls. There are plants growing here, strange twisty-looking things climbing and growing under the anemic light of magical lanterns that cast their glow. I look down at our feet, and there are a dozen circles in the tile mosaic floor, as if the people might teleport in and slowly gather here. There’s no red symbol painted on the door here, either.

“Prince Nemeth here to see my brother,” Nemeth declares in a booming voice as he approaches the guards. I trot behind him, trying to look cute and helpless.

The guards cross their spears over the doors, barring him from entering. “No humans. She will have to wait nearby.” One gestures at the far side of the courtyard, where I see a small gazebo-like structure heavily encrusted with pale green vines and more of the strange lighting. “The king’s orders.”

Nemeth growls furiously, one hand nudging me behind him. “The king has asked for both of us⁠—”

“Aye, and he changed his mind,” the second guard says. “And if you go in, you must cover your mouth. King’s orders.”

My mate reaches for his hammer.

I put a hand on his arm. “Nemeth, it’s fine. Just go talk to him. I can wait out here for a bit.”

He turns toward me, frowning. “I should take you home⁠—”

“No,” I say quickly, giving his arm a pat to soothe him. “We’ve come this far and dressed up to visit. Go in and talk to him. Tell him I wish to speak to him, too. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just ease the topic of your wife into the conversation.” I take his hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “I can sit in a garden and wait. I don’t mind.”

He sighs heavily, glancing over at the guards. It’s clear he doesn’t like this.

“I’ll be safe,” I reassure him. “Unless you think the guards will hurt me?”

We both glance over at the two men in front of the doors. They’re watching me hold Nemeth’s hand with looks of revulsion, which is odd. I mean, I know humans and Fellians look different but the disgust is a new take. Nemeth notices it, too. He turns back to me, leaning in. “I don’t like this, Candra. There should be more guards here.”

“More?” That surprises me.

“Aye. The palace has always had ten guards at its doors. I don’t understand this.” He shakes his head. “Just as I don’t understand why Ivornath would change his mind about seeing you.”

“Well, go and change it back,” I joke. “I’ll wait here.”

He nods and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Then, he leads me toward the gazebo in the midst of the garden and pauses in front of the latticed door there. I can see another figure waiting in the deep shadows inside. Probably another human left behind by someone, since we’re being treated like rabid dogs. I turn and smile brightly at Nemeth, showing him that I’m fine with this.

With one last longing glance, he leaves me and heads for the door. The moment he does, a guard steps forward with a water-skin. “Wash your hands and face. King’s orders.”

I watch as Nemeth mutters something unpleasant to them but does as he’s bade, and then disappears inside, the doors finally open for him.

By the gods, I knew Darkfell would be strange, but I didn’t realize just how strange.

I turn around to the gazebo door and pause. There on the delicate lattice of wood, just above the door handle, is another one of those swirling red marks. Does it mean “human,” I wonder? I push the door open and head inside. “Hello,” I call out to the other occupant. “May I sit with you?”

“Good,” says a hard voice that makes me gasp in surprise. “You’re finally here.”

I stare in shock as the woman inside lowers her hood.

It’s my sister, Erynne.

She’s thinner than I remember, her face hard and there are lines at the corners of her mouth, as if she’s permanently frowning now. But Erynne is still beautiful and regal, and she’s family. With a choked sound, I launch myself at her, hugging her tight. “By the gods,” I weep. “Erynne!”

“Tears do no good,” my sister says in a brittle voice. “Save them for someone else.”

I pull back in surprise, gazing up at her. Erynne’s always been taller than me, and svelte. She seems hard now, though, as if all her softness has disappeared. She smiles at me, but there’s no affection in the expression, and I swear I can see every tendon in her throat when she does.

“Erynne,” I breathe. “I’m so glad to see you. But you’re so thin⁠—”

“And you’re not. I shouldn’t be surprised. Even when Mother tried to make you watch your food, you always looked plump.”

I flinch at her cruel words. She’s angry, I realize. Angry that I’ve left the tower. That I’ve failed in a Vestalin’s duty. That must be it. “How did you get here?” I ask, determined to ignore her anger. “Is it true that Lios is destroyed and the humans here are enslaved?”

Her gaze goes blank for a moment, and then she focuses on me again. “I should be asking how you got here. When did you arrive? Has it been seven years already?”

That worries me. Surely she would know if seven years have passed? And if she thinks it’s been seven…then why is her gaze filled with such hatred towards me? “It’s only been a little more than two.”

“Ah. So you abandoned your duty.” Her smile twists. “You fool. It still took two years, did it? How witless you must feel.”

“We stayed until we had no supplies left. No one arrived to bring food for either of us, so we left and traveled to Lios…or what’s left of it. Is it true? Tell me it’s not,” I beg. “Tell me what happened.” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, despite the odds, Lios has somehow survived. That the people retreated further into the mountains and created a settlement there. That they’re thriving on plants that grow abundantly in mud and excessive rain.

Something. Anything.

“You don’t know what happened?” My sister’s hard expression changes ever so slightly. “You truly don’t know what occurred?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been in the tower for the last two years. I know nothing beyond the doors closing behind me. Please. Tell me everything.”

She touches the collar at her neck—a slave collar, just like mine, but hers is a real one. “Lionel set sail the moment you crossed into the tower,” Erynne says in a distant voice, her gaze distracted. “It didn’t matter that the winds hadn’t yet died down, or that the weather was foul. He’d sent you and he expected the goddess to shower him with fair weather. He was such a reckless idiot.” She sounds almost affectionate. “I’m told he lost half his ships before they even made it to Darkfell, and then he set siege to the mountain. Can you imagine? Waiting outside a stone mountain in a boat?”

Erynne laughs, and the sound makes my hackles rise. I try to picture Lionel laying siege to Darkfell, but all I can see in my mind’s eye are the impossibly high cliffs that frame the waters of the sea on Darkfell’s borders. It seems a foolish place to siege, but I am no soldier.

“He lost, of course,” my sister continues. “Nine months he fought and came back like a dog with a tail between his legs. Just long enough to kiss his baby son and impregnate me again. And then it was off to war once more, taking all men that could stand upright with him and leaving me in charge of a people that were running out of food. Did you know that when all the men go off to war, there’s suddenly no one to till the fields or mind the cattle? Did you know that a woman can only do so much with a baby hanging off of her? We tried to make up the slack, but in the end, there still wasn’t enough food. And then the rains just made it worse. It rained and it rained, and we starved and we starved. I envied you in the tower, you know.”

That takes me aback. “You did?”

“Yes.” Her expression grows dreamy. “It seemed like the perfect escape. Just sit in a tower on a bed of cushions, eating food and ignoring the world outside as it goes to shite. Sheer bliss. You didn’t have to worry about anything. You could be proud that you were doing your duty to the gods. Meanwhile I was outside trying to hold everything together.”

I feel a twinge of guilt.

“But at least I had my babies,” Erynne continues. She won’t look at me as she speaks, as if it’s too much for her mind if she sees me. “My strong little Allionel and my darling Ravendor.”

I jerk at the name, an uneasy feeling in my gut. “You named your girl Ravendor?”

She’s not listening to me, though. Her expression is vague. “They’re such good children, too. Strong and brave.” Erynne blinks hard and then turns back to me. “Isabella died, you know. During the famine. She gave her last bites of food to me so I could nurse my baby.”

“Oh gods, Erynne.” I reach for her hands. My youngest memories are of Erynne and Isabella, always together. They were closer than I was with Erynne. I also knew they’d been lovers for some time, and I can’t imagine my sister’s pain. “I know how much you loved her.”

“Nurse died, too,” she tells me. “Iphigenia. She was one of the first to die from weakness when there was nothing to eat.”

It’s a punch in the gut. I choke back a sob, horrified. All this time I’ve been excited to see both Nurse and Riza—sometimes more excited at the prospect of seeing them than my own sister—and to realize that I’ve lost Nurse breaks me. Hot tears slide down my face. “Please, no.”