“Always.” He reaches for me and the craft sways and bobs on the water, making my gut lurch. I hold onto the sides of the boat, grimacing, and Nemeth spreads his wings to steady himself. “I am more than ready to get off this damned ship and hold my mate again.”

I’m a little surprised at his strong words. Nemeth is unfailingly cheerful when it comes to the boat, maybe because he knows how miserable it makes me. I’m glad I’m not the only one that’s tired of traveling…and more than ready to be in each other’s arms again. It’s been torture to be this close to him and not be able to sleep in his arms. We’ve just enough room to stretch out on the boat, but there’s been no more than a few furtive touches here and there, and far too few kisses. Everything is salty and damp and smells of raw fish. Every movement makes the boat sway. It’s not conducive to lovemaking, especially with Nemeth’s large form and my increasing belly. “Soon enough. The moment we get to your home, I’ll suck your cock dry and nibble on your knot for hours, and you can feast between my legs for days. We’ll be so unrepentantly amorous that people will think I’ve enchanted you with my evil Vestalin cunt.”

He doesn’t laugh at my joke.

Oh, by the gods. Surely the Fellians don’t truly think I have an evil enchanted cunt? What a pile of dragon shite.

“I won’t let anyone harm you, Candra. Do not worry over that. You’ve cast no spells on me.”

“I know that,” I sputter. My hands go to my belly, rounded with our child. “Don’t you think if I would have, it would be to travel in a less fishy environment? Or do you think I like waking up with salt in my hair and leaning my arse over the edge of the boat?”

This time, Nemeth’s somber expression breaks into a grin. “I will wash every grain of salt from your skin when we get home, I promise. You’ll see that Darkfell is pleasant and welcoming, for all that it is underground.”

Pleasant, maybe. Welcoming to one of the Vestalin name? I doubt it. But I’m out of options, and I won’t leave Nemeth. So I blow him a kiss to show him how I feel. “Go do your scouting before it gets much darker, love. I’ll be fine here.” I gesture at my line. “Don’t hold your hopes out for dinner, though. Nothing’s biting.”

“We’ll be home soon enough and you’ll dine on the finest Fellian feasts,” he tells me, a hint of excitement in his voice. “And I will return as quickly as I can. I swear it.” He rubs the spot on his hand where my bite is tattooed on his skin, and it’s as good as a kiss. With a wink to me, he launches himself into the air once more, and I cling to the edges of the damned rocking boat.

At this point, I’ll happily run straight through Darkfell’s doors if it means no more boats.

I catch nothing for dinner, and when the stars come out, I pull my line in and recline on my seat at the end of the boat, rubbing my rounded belly and gazing up at the stars. The golden moon is huge in the sky tonight, as if the goddess is watching everything we do with a judgment-filled gaze. The stars are pretty, though. You can see them a lot better from out here in the ocean than in the palace. I gaze up at the sea of twinkling lights and hope that if the Gray God and the Absent One are watching from above, they know we’re doing the best we can.

A shadow moves over the bright face of the moon. It’s brief, but I catch a glimpse of wings. “Nemeth?” I call out. “Any luck?”

Heavy cloth smacks into my face, covering me like a blanket. I squawk with indignation, because what a time for the sail to fall apart. In the next moment, a tight arm goes around my waist, and I’m dragged from the boat itself, claws digging into my skin.

I’m so surprised that I scream, only for a blow to land on the side of my head. “Quiet, human!”

That voice isn’t Nemeth’s. Dizzy, I flail, only for a heavy arm to push my limbs down. There’s a strange puff of air, and then I’m dropped a few feet onto what feels like a cold stone floor.

“Get up,” says a terrifying voice.

I don’t, though. Panting, my head spinning, I try to make sense of what just happened. The air feels different. Out on the ocean it’s humid and damp, even when it’s not raining, and there’s a hint of salt that permeates everything. I don’t smell salt now. The air is cold and dry, and when I press my hand to the floor underneath me, it’s hard and chilly.

The shadow. A hood over my head. The claws that dug into my waist.

That wasn’t Nemeth. Some other Fellian has kidnapped me.

Chapter

Seventy-Two

Aheavy 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.”