Page 2 of The Warlord’s Princess (Warlords of Tempest #3)

RAMSEY

Present Day

I should have let the mud pit claim her.

The trail narrows, forcing me to walk behind the small human at such a slow pace I fear I might trip over my feet.

For days, we have trudged through forest and mud and murky waters, and now that home is within reach, she slows further.

But what else am I to expect from Amber, who is more contrarian than even myself?

She sighs, doubling over, panting out noisy breaths.

These Penticari women tire too easily, from hardly any effort. Coupling with them is an affront to Tempest, yet with Elena’s pregnancy, there is little to be done about it.

“How much further?” she gasps out the words.

“A ways.”

Her head snaps to look at me, her eyes desperate. “Maybe you could carry me the rest of the way?”

“That would require me to touch you, which I loathe to do.”

“But I’m exhausted, and you’re supposed to take care of us.”

“And I did. I delivered you from the greater forest, have I not?”

“But…” Her voice trails off as she searches for words to convince me to carry her.

How had I ever thought that she was of the strongest among the Penticari?

“You’re cruel,” she sobs, her face pinched, looking like she might cry.

“You would not be alive if not for me, and I would not be so burdened if not for you.”

She stomps her stupid, frail foot on the earth. “We’re not made for walking days on end.”

“Then perhaps you should have not been so unruly as to get yourself exiled.”

She spins away from me in a rush, but slowly turns back.

“Those men…who were they?”

“That is not for me to say.”

“How do you know we weren’t followed?”

“The island is large, and they would not dare come within a three-days’ walk of our village.”

Her eyes draw to the forest floor, and she wraps her arms around her body.

During her time away from her tribe, her spirit has withered, making her a shell of her once proud self. Not that any of the other Penticari would fare much better. Some would not have survived.

Still, I see their weaknesses more clearly now. How they are lacking in ways that should have been obvious sooner.

“I can’t go on much longer,” Amber huffs, as though to prove my point.

To think I had once wanted to mate her, thinking she was the strongest of the Penticari. Her fleeing from her people only strengthened that notion, and I volunteered to bring her back to the village, hoping I could practice my courtship skills.

I traveled with her for many days, toward areas I knew would not be heavy with beasts, and taught her how to use my weapons while she chattered on about her life.

It did not take long for me to realize courting Amber was folly.

At first, she was receptive to my advances, but instead of getting to know each other, as I had hoped, she wanted to discuss the politics of our tribes, what my place was in my own, and how much support I could garner.

As if I would ever try to overthrow Grixis.

Admittedly, I said a few careless things when I thought him soft, but it was never power I hungered for. It was honor and strength.

Perhaps it was her sharp tongue that had me thinking Amber might possess these qualities, but when her chatter turned to schemes, I saw her for what she really was, and whatever charm she had in my eyes disappeared.

Unfortunately, by the time I realized my mistake, we had already traveled too far, into unknown danger.

“If we hurry, we can make it to my village before midday.”

Amber sneers, but continues down the trail, dragging her feet as some of the untrained barrack boys are wont to do.

As we near the village, we come upon Nori and Dogan, who fall in line behind us.

Dogan is lucky that he started courting one of the better Penticari women early, as most of them are scatterbrained and scare easily.

But Nori is smart, logical, and controls her emotions better than any Tempest man in my memory.

Unlike Amber, who cares only for those who will listen to her and do as she says, Nori works toward the betterment of her tribe, even if it means she must take on more responsibilities.

As the village comes into view, Amber’s spine straightens and her chin lifts, and I realize that even though she is filthy, having spent several days out in the wilds of the island, she lacks humility.

She looks around the small huts and tents that encompass our homes and workspace, her nose scrunched. “My father’s courtyard was more impressive than this.”

“You are welcome to sleep there if it suits you better.”

She shakes her head, starting forward toward a group of gathered Penticari.

I grab her by the shoulder before she can join them.

“Remember—”

She jerks her shoulder away. “Not to tell anyone what I saw.”

“If you do, you might find yourself out in the wilds again.”

She walks away, toward the longhouse where the others are lingering.

Grixis will be eager to know all I have seen, but I am exhausted after long days of travel, so he will have to wait.

I approach my hut, eager to unburden myself, but as soon as I enter, my blood rushes in fury, for my home is not empty.

“What are you doing here?” I snarl at the small, weak Penticari woman named Asha.

With large blue eyes, she looks up at me from the floor, her honey-blonde hair shifting over her shoulders.

Blankets span across the floor, pooling around her body, some thrown in layers across my table.

“Did you not hear me?” I growl, taking a step forward. “Why are you in my home?”

“Oh, I’m?—”

I grab a blanket and shake it in my fist. Loose threads sway, and wooden sticks being used to hold some in place fall to the floor.

“What is this?” I snarl.

A squeak sounds from under a blanket, and a small vaeyark scurries out from under it.

My jaw drops in disbelief. “You let a rodent into my home!” my voice booms.

“It’s Harold?—”

“It has a name?” I blurt, the anger in my voice replaced by shock.

Weak Asha blinks up at me, her lips moving, but no words come out of her mouth.

“What is this?” I shake the blanket again.

“M-my weave?—”

“What is it doing in my hut?”

“Dogan told me to work here.”

Dogan? The one lucky enough to get one of the few suitable Penticari?

I exit my hut, gesturing frantically to the longhouse where I see several other Penticari watching us.

“Leave and take your weaves with you!”

“I can’t move my weaves.”

“Why not?”

“The threads are delicate.”

“I do not care how fine the threads are—this is my hut that I built with my own hands.” I lift my fist. “You can build one for yourself if you want one so badly.”

“My work is too big to move, and there’s no place for it in there,” Asha argues. “It will tangle?—”

“That matters not to me.”

Grixis approaches, looking relieved. “Did you find the girl?”

I turn away from Asha, struggling to tame my fury. “She is in the longhouse with the others.”

“Then let us talk.”

“Not until this one leaves my home.” I point emphatically at Asha.

“That can wait, as there are urgent matters to discuss.”

I glance askance at Asha, who seems to somehow make herself smaller under my heated gaze.

“Fine, but if she is not out by sundown, she will not like what I do with her precious weaves.”

I follow Grixis into the forest, followed by Eddard, Fenrick, Dogan, and Haelden.

When we are out of earshot, Grixis turns to me, keeping his voice low when he speaks.

“It has been many moons since you have left. What took you so long to return?”

Instead of telling them about my disastrous courtship, I say, “I was letting Amber continue on, hoping that a few days spent in the wilds of Melgrim would humble her, but the wilds were far less wild than I remember.”

“What do you mean?” Grixis asks.

“Veriskans are in our territory.”

Baring his teeth, Grixis growls, “What?”

“At first, I saw signs. Areas where predators should be had none, and resources only used by man were depleted.”

My tribe mates look ashen.

Grixis turns in a small circle, his hands toiling. “This is most concerning, for now would be a poor time to go to battle.”

“Too late for that.” Dogan chuckles. “He already brought Amber back, and judging by her reaction to the village, she is no less feral than she was before.”

“Now is not the time for jests,” Grixis snaps, then turns his attention back to me. “Tell me more.”

“When I noticed the thinning resources, I decided to investigate further. I fear I stayed too long as they have picked up on Amber’s scent.”

“Can you be certain?”

“Yes. As soon as I realized they were in the area, I made Amber bathe in mud, which angered her into aggression.”

“It does not take much with her,” Grixis mumbles.

“All is not lost. There were only two. I debated killing them but worried it would draw the others to our side. I can only hope that since there are no signs of living women, they assume they had crashed and died shortly after.”

“It could be that the other half of the boat the women came on is on their shores,” Fenrick suggests, “and if that is the case, the Veriskans might have been looking for more wreckage, or survivors.”

Grixis contemplates his words. “This I have not considered, and perhaps this development is for the best, as they are likely to believe they did not survive, or if they had, they died shortly after making it to land.”

Fenrick nods. “One can hope.”

After mulling over my revelation, Grixis lifts his head, speaking to us as chieftain. “We should get back to the village and think on what we have learned. Burden no one else with this knowledge, as we do not want to incite fear or blood lust.”

“Amber has agreed not to speak of the Veriskans, and I believe she will keep her word as she fears being exiled from the tribe again,” I tell him.

Grixis nods. “Good.”

Before Grixis stalks off, I remind him, “The girl named Asha must leave my dwelling.”

A look of annoyance washes over Grixis’s face. “I have been told she is weaving ahead of the cold season, and to move her work would be grievous to her progress.”

“I care not.”

“Is it because you wish to mate with Amber?” Fenrick teases.

Molten fury courses through my veins. “If I were to bring Amber anywhere, it would be to a cliff to toss her off!”

“Mayhap it would be better to toss them all off,” Haelden says under his breath.

“Enough!” Grixis warns. “The women are here to stay, and that is final.”

“While I accept their presence, I do not accept that they are allowed to take over my home,” I snarl.

“Perhaps you can stay at The Tomb or an outpost?” Grixis suggests.

That Grixis would say such nonsense inflames me. “I built my home with my own two hands and refuse to be run off by a lesser!”

“You have every right to be upset, but with the coming cold, we must allow the women to better prepare,” Grixis reasons.

“Each of them will need blankets and gear to get by. I am not even sure if we can keep them in the village for long with the cooling temperatures, but that is a worry for another day.”

“That matters not, for I am not giving up my home,” I insist.

“You do not have to, but you must share it until she is done with her weaves, however many they might need.”

Blinding rage grips me, but I tame my aggression, knowing better than to argue when he has so much on his mind with the Veriskans and pregnant Elena.

“Return to the village,” Grixis commands. “All except you, Eddard.”