Page 18 of The Warlord’s Princess (Warlords of Tempest #3)

RAMSEY

I rouse before Asha, quietly leaving my hut so as not to wake her.

Soon, the sun will rise, and the village will come to life as people wake to go about their day.

Violet is already at the fires, preparing to make morning meal for the Penticari, which will be served after the survival training Meg insisted on.

Even I must admit that they are doing well, thriving when many thought all was lost for them.

Every day that passed after they were left at the shore, I was sure they would succumb, and a few did, but most survived.

Largely, it was due to Elena’s leadership, as she was not driven by the noble hierarchy they left behind in Penticar as others were.

It is what makes Amber so unsuitable, as she puts her own desire for power above the needs of her people, and would gladly make Elena a servant again to satisfy her own pride.

Asha is not like that.

I remember standing over her when her wrists were still shackled. I could not bring myself to remove them, giving the tool to Elena, expecting her to fail.

The fury that coursed through my veins as precious resources were wasted on her was potent, even for myself, who is quick to anger.

At some point, though, that anger left me, replaced with confusion. These feelings are not natural to me, and they have me ever on edge.

Her mouth on my cock certainly escalated that feeling, for nothing in my many years has ever felt like that, and I long to feel it again.

Not with the princess.

But with Asha.

How is it that my mind has twisted so? That what I thought was true is now being challenged?

“This weak thing is incapable of making anyone happy,” I had said to Elena.

Yet waking up with her curled in my arms, I knew more joy than I had any right to feel.

Jacek jogs over to me, his expression solemn, and I wonder if The Tomb has suffered another setback.

A part of me wishes it had, which shows how far my honor has fallen.

He halts and scans the area, making sure no one is around to listen in.

“You are needed at The Tomb.”

My brow furrows. “Why?”

“It is best you come and see for yourself.”

We head over, being careful not to be followed by a curious Penticari.

Once inside, he brings me to the off-planet communication room, which, to my knowledge, has never been used except when we arrived.

Occasionally, it will release pre-recorded messages regarding the terraforming process, but that is rare.

“Why are we in here when it is still several cycles before we send word to Tempest?”

“Because a message has been released.”

“And why was it not Grixis you sought?”

“Because it is meant only for you.”

My brow pinches in confusion. “Do others get messages like this often?”

“No, never.”

“Then why?”

“That is for you to say. Now I will leave you so that you might listen.” He exits the room, and I turn to look at the glowing monitor.

Something feels off, and for a moment, I wonder if somehow Tempest saw my coupling with Asha.

But that is simply not possible. The Tomb was here long before we were, as there were others exiled before us to tend to it.

Any communication stored on the shop must have been recorded long ago, and transmitted as we arrived here.

Still, that someone took the time to record a message meant for me alone is a mystery I mislike.

Knowing only cowards run from their fears, I hit ENTER, and the screen comes to life, telling me to place my hand on a sensor, to identify me.

My heart hammers in my chest as a picture of the Great Princess Kasmina manifests before my eyes, the soft blue hue of her flesh looking exactly as I remember it.

“My dearest Ramsey, I hope this message finds you well.

“It was just hours ago that you were escorted into your ship, the one that is to take you to the seed planet: Cryon-2-7-9.

I know your exile must have brought great confusion to you, but you have to understand, war is brewing in Tempest, and in order for my mother to stay in power, we needed more resources. Much more.

“My mother’s longing for your territory extends back many decades, and when you, the Scion of the Upper Reach, failed to seed my womb, it was determined that you needed to be removed, which is why you were sent into battle.

“But you survived. Even when you were sent into perilous territories you had little hope of conquering, serving under warlords known to strike nonsensically, giving themselves over to fate so that other armies might succeed.

“Even my mother was impressed when you were dubbed Warlord, not that it altered her intentions for you.

“Every moment you were away in battle brought me pain, because I knew what was planned for you, and there was nothing I could do.

“Unfortunately, my mother has finally lost her patience. She came to me two nights ago, telling me to spill your blood in a most dishonorable way, which to a man would be an egregious slight. But women care little for honor.

“But I am not without power, and I was able to strike a deal with a warden. Instead of seeing to your death, I am sending you away to a place my mother’s power and influence cannot reach. A place that no one would ever think to look for you.

“No one knows of my plan, not even my mother, for I am a clever negotiator and I paid a dear price to the warden, for you are worth it.

“Cryon-2-7-9’s chances of success are far greater than the other planets we have seeded, and with its success will come the first settlers from Tempest, which will include me, as Cryon-2-7-9’s Queen.

“This message is meant to be viewed when the terraforming of the seed planet is all but inevitable, and if you are viewing it, it means that someday soon we will be together again.

“Rejoice, my dearest Ramsey. Everything I have done is so that we will be together again, for you have always been mine, and I will never let you go.”

The screen freezes, and I am left in a state of such shock, that I can hardly control my spiraling thoughts.

It was all inner Tempest politics.

I never lacked honor. My exile was a political move, as I had not died in battle, and my once-beloved could not see to my assassination.

The restoration of my honor should bring me joy, yet I feel hollow. Incomplete.

As a man of Tempest, war is in my blood, yet I never realized how much the territories of Tempest warred against each other.

Admittedly, I was taught very little about the inner politics of Tempest. The Tempest queens each have their own small armies to be used at their discretion, but I knew not what they were used for, as I was meant to breed, not to lead.

What is perhaps most confusing is that Princess Kasmina’s mother, Queen of the Lowlands, would want to conquer the Upper Reach after allying with my mother.

It is thinking of Amber that helps me see the situation more clearly. Amber, who will lie for power. Amber, who does little, yet expects much.

Asha and Amber are the two sides of Tempest, representing the inner and outer politics. One duty-bound; the other power hungry. One maintaining honor in their own graceful, quiet way; the other, willing to sacrifice it to get ahead.

Who are you to say what honor should be to a woman?

Men commit to war and breeding, their worth and honor dependent upon the territories they claim and if their pods successfully mate.

Women have different roles in society, and their honor cannot be defined by one such as myself.

I look at the screen again, where Princess Kasmina’s face is frozen.

Could she truly have been saving me from the schemes of her mother? I was given over to the Lowlands as a means to prevent war between our territories, yet they still schemed and could possibly now hold the Upper Reach.

Not that I have any strong feelings regarding the territory. I hardly remember my mother, as I was but an asset to her. A means to negotiate.

Without a daughter, she had no one to inherit her territory upon her death, and sought to extend her legacy by providing my seed to another more fertile line whose offspring could one day hold the seat.

Now, if Princess Kasmina speaks true, they have warred, and whatever child the princess was pregnant with now stands to inherit what once belonged to my line.

I turn off the monitor, but stay seated, unable to move even if I wanted to.

To send me here was a cruel thing, yet it was not without reason.

Still, I cannot stop the heat of my blood from rising when I think of all I have endured, because not only had I been shamed, but the very act of exiling me stole my honor.

Bedding Asha was a mistake. I knew that when I first tasted her in the cave, and yet I repeated the folly just last night.

Both times we were together, I never once thought of the princess, and even as I sit here now, thinking back to the recorded message, my loins do not stir.

They are dead to her.

Surely that is not true. The last few months have given us many surprises, and the moment I see the great princess, my desire will come surging back, like a tsunami.

But what will then happen to Asha and the other Penticari?

I should not care.

Yet, I do…

I exit the communications room, finding Jacek seated, watching data as it scrolls across a larger screen.

“Is there news?” he asks.

“No.”

He nods, his eyes flickering with curiosity.

Unwilling to share what was revealed, I exit The Tomb and continue to the smoker, where I find Orvell pulling a thick chunk of meat from one of the endergulfs I took down yesterday.

He sighs when he sees me, shaking his head.

“Is there something you would like to say to me?” I ask, more curious than angry.

“Just that I would not expect such weakness from you.” He grabs another piece of meat from the endergulf.

Wildfire spreads through my veins at his careless insult. I clench my hands into fists and pull in a sharp breath. “I would be careful where I speak of weakness, cleric.”