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)
“You’re not a diversion,” I say softly. “You’re my friend. I care for you.”
“But you wouldn’t give up your people for me?”
How did we go from a lighthearted, flirty bath to defecting to the enemy? “Must it be decided today? This feels a bit like manipulation.”
He gives me a stricken look, his hand hesitating on my leg. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that, Candra. I just…I am Fellian, I suppose. My mindset is that of my people. And I cannot think of devoting myself without asking for you to be my mate and all that entails.” His claws trail up my leg in a teasing gesture. “It’s difficult for me to try to think of it in human terms.”
Mmm. “Humans don’t exactly think differently, either. At least, not the wealthy ones. All of those marriages are for wealth, land, or name. If you’re a noble and you have a daughter, she’s little more than a cow for you to sell off to the highest bidder.” I make a face at the idea. “It’s only because of my name that I have the slightest bit of freedom, but perhaps that’s why I struggle. I have had marriage proposed to me seventeen times, despite the fact that I bear cursed blood. Seventeen different people all wanted to marry me, all because they want to be tied to the Vestalin name. Because they think their magic cocks can somehow ‘cure’ my infertility.” I snort. “And that’s the problem. No one wants me. Candra. So when I hear a marriage proposal, I know it’s shite, and I automatically wish to run straight for the hills.”
“Even a proposal from a Fellian,” Nemeth muses. “I understand.”
“Do you?” I study him. “I’ve never been in control of my fate. Not as a woman, not as a Vestalin. The only reason I didn’t have to marry those seventeen men that proposed was because the court astrologer said they would have no children if they married me. It was never my choice, understand? Even as the cursed Vestalin, I still would have been made to marry. The only thing I have ever had control over is my body, and who I share it with. Must I give that up so easily, simply because I am fond of you and want to touch you?”
“I understand,” he says again, his expression somber. “You might think I do not, but I do understand what it is like for your life not to be your own.”
I realize what he means—that he is of the First House of Darkfell, and thus a Royal Offering. He is a prince of his people. Perhaps he does understand. I reach for his hand and grip it in mine. “Then you know in a world without freedoms, those that we have are more precious than ever.”
Nemeth smiles at me, his expression slightly sad. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, then hands me the soap. “I do. And I must think on it. Can you finish your bath without me?”
And then he disappears into the shadows, melting away and leaving me alone in the room with my tepid bath, which is far less exciting now that I’m alone.
Hmph. “You could have at least stayed to watch me soap my breasts,” I call out. “Being horny is not a crime.”
There is no answer.
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Ihead upstairs after I’ve finished bathing, the tub emptied of its water and my soap carefully put away. I hold the light that Nemeth left for me, and when I get to his rooms, I find him in there, reading a book. He gives me a distracted smile, kisses my palm, and then returns to reading. It’s obvious that he needs some time to himself, to pick through his thoughts.
That’s fine. I have two more letters to dig through. They sit on the corner of the bed, and I glance over at Nemeth. “Should I go upstairs? Give you some privacy to think?”
He looks up at me in surprise and blinks those strange eyes at me. Then he shakes his head. “No. I should like for you to stay.” The smile he gives me is a little shy, a little uncertain. “I prefer you here.”
I beam back at him, pleased. Impulsively, I go to his side, to the stool he has near the cold fireplace, and I fling my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “No matter what you decide, Nemeth, we are friends. Understand?”
Big arms go around me and he holds me close. “You are right. Let us be friends first and foremost. I keep forgetting that we are here for the next six years. That we have many, many days and months to live through before we worry about the outside world.” And he squeezes me tight, as if in an apology. “Forgive me for thinking too much.”