Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
I fling his hand away. “I thought you loved me.”
I know I’m being dramatic, but more than anything, I need him to show that his allegiance is with me. That I matter above all else. That nothing has changed and we’re still in this together, the two of us against the world. I need him to prove to me that Riza is wrong wrong wrong, because my heart is shattering into a thousand pieces with every moment that passes.
Nemeth’s expression is defeated. “You know I do, milettahn. But I cannot abandon the people here for my own selfish wants and needs. Can you?” He grips my shoulders, forcing me to gaze at him. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you would be content with abandoning all those here in Darkfell. All the humans. All the Fellians who have nothing to do with my brother’s machinations. You would abandon them?”
“That’s not fair.”
He shakes his head. “None of this is fair. And yet it is the fate we have been given.”
I stare up at him, mutinous. “Fine. If you want to stay, then get me in to see your brother. The king.”
“I’ve been trying to see him—”
“No, not you. Me. Let me talk to him.”
Nemeth’s jaw sets in that stubborn way of his. “You’re not going to see him until I have.”
“Then I guess that answers that,” I manage to say, my voice light despite my heartbreak. Tonight has proved one thing to me. Riza was right. Nemeth has some plan with his brothers, and he won’t let me in on it.
Whatever he might feel for me falls secondary to duty.
The rest of the day is full of tension. We’re silent over our meal, and afterward, I declare a headache and take to bed. It’s not as if I can go anywhere else, after all. I pretend to sleep, the covers pulled over my head, while silent tears trickle down my cheeks.
I’m going to allow myself a tiny bit of crying, but that’s all. If Nemeth has used me, I can’t trust him. If I can’t trust him, then I have to make my own plans.
I have to think about my baby. I have to think about my people. It feels strange to say that to myself. I’ve never been the most devoted of princesses, not in the slightest. But Nemeth is right that there is something wrong here. He just refuses to see that it’s his brother.
So I have no choice but to work around my mate.
He holds me that night, his hand on my belly, and our child kicks and flutters in my stomach, reminding me that I have more to think about than just myself, than just Nemeth. The baby inside me is going to need a safe place to live, and I don’t care if that place is Darkfell or Lios.
Right now, neither one is safe. Darkfell is full of plague, slavery and intrigue, and Lios is full of mud and empty of people and food.
“Give me another day,” Nemeth whispers into my hair as I pretend to sleep. “We must go carefully when we approach my brother.”
I nod. As if I have a choice? In a strange sort of way, I do know that he’s trying.
I just don’t know if it’s enough. If he’s lying to me and deliberately stalling, dragging our feet could mean the death of so many Liosians. Even if he’s not lying and his brother truly is pushing him off, we cannot afford to wait.
I go to sleep that night with the terrifying word “purge” echoing in my head.
It’s a tense breakfast the next morning. I glare at Nemeth over the food.
“I cannot today,” he tells me, his expression grim but determined. “I must speak with my brother first. I will not put you in front of Ivornath before I know if you will be safe or not. I cannot get the sight of Lionel’s dead body out of my mind. I will not let that happen to you.”
I hate that he sounds logical. It’s almost believable. If I didn’t know what I know now, I’d be a much happier woman. A fool, but happier. “May I have the letters that were sent to me, then?”
He gets to his feet. “We’ll talk about those when I return.”
“Am I your prisoner?” I ask him. “Am I no longer your wife? Your mate? Because right now, I feel like a prisoner, Nemeth.” I gesture at my surroundings. “Even a golden cage is still a cage.”
He moves to my side. I don’t get up from the table with the strange stools, and continue to mutinously glare at him from my spot by our breakfast. He strokes my cheek with his knuckle, sighing. “I know this is difficult. I wish you could understand.”
“Then tell me,” I exclaim. “Tell me what’s going on so I can understand.”