Page 29 of The Warlord’s Princess (Warlords of Tempest #3)

ASHA

“I’m sorry!” Nori pleads, following me all the way back to the longhouse with Meg and Elena. Araelya stormed off to where the hunters meet, looking angered by what was revealed.

I don’t blame her.

Amber, who’s sprawled out on her bed, sits up as I storm into the big room. A few others stir, annoyed to be woken before going to afternoon chores.

“You know I’m not good with words or knowing how to say things.” Nori’s voice wavers and I see that her hands tremble. I hate that she’s like this, and every other day, I’d fall all over myself to pull her from her torment.

But not today.

“Just leave me alone,” I snap, walking toward the other end of the longhouse.

Elena and Meg are quiet, but Nori speaks again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I spin to look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me before? About my mother…” Deep in my mind, I see her blue eyes; I hear her loving words. So close, yet never really.

“Back in Penticar, I knew that if I did, it could lead to your death and mine.” Her face tilts down toward the wooden floor. “And here, I figured so much time had passed, there was no point in bringing it up.”

“I hate my father!”

“You should.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. “It’s not fair! I never cared to be a princess—it cost me everything.”

“Princess?” is muttered by a few of those who are resting, and heads poke up from bed.

Meg comes up alongside me and wraps me in a hug. “I’m here for you.”

“What do you mean by princess?” comes Amber’s sneering voice.

Furious, my head snaps to look at her. She’s standing halfway across the room, her eyes still groggy.

“Yes, Amber—I’m a princess—higher born than you!”

She giggles for a moment, then sees the serious expression on my face.

“But the firstborn princess died?” She looks around the room at the others, who are now all sitting up in their beds.

“No, she didn’t,” I snarl, shrugging Meg off and taking three steps forward so that I’m a foot away from her. “I’m right here!”

Her upper lip quivers as though in disgust, but she says nothing.

“Come on,” Meg says, gently grabbing my arm. “Let’s go for a long walk, just the four of us.”

Knowing it would be bad for me to cause discourse, I nod. “One moment.” I look around the longhouse and call, “Harold?”

After moving into the longhouse, he disappeared, and I can only guess he didn’t like the noise. Still, every day I call for him, hoping he’ll return.

“Oh, well…”

“Come on,” Elena says, taking my hand in hers.

For a long time, we don’t talk. Tears come and go. I even giggle once, though I don’t know why.

Finally, I say, “I remember seeing her weave a flower crown for me. I’ve been told I look like her.”

Meg nods. “It is said she was fair to look upon.”

“I can’t believe what my father did. That he took her away.”

Hands rub my shoulders, and through my grief, I’m reminded that I’m not alone.

“Thank you, Elena, for never giving up on me.”

“To be honest, I’m a little shocked I was defending a hidden princess this entire time.”

“Please, don’t call me that?—”

“But you must let us!” Meg begs. “I need to see the torment on Amber’s face as we utter that title before your name.”

Three of us laugh; Nori does not.

I turn to her, knowing how tortured she must feel. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Really?”

“I understand why you never told me about my mother…what good would it have done?”

“Thank you. I don’t have many friends, and you were always kind, never making me feel like a freak.”

“You’re just too smart for your own good.” Meg sighs. “But look how it saved the day!”

Elena frowns. “What if there’s truth to Ramsey’s worry?”

Nori shrugs. “Every pregnancy has risks, but Orvell is better than any cleric I’ve known in Penticar, and a few of them were from my own family.”

Meg rolls her eyes. “That’s a grand compliment indeed, but please, don’t tell him that.”

I nod in agreement. “You’ll be in the best of hands.”

“You’re right. There’s no going back now, so there’s no point in needless worry.” Elena smirks. “Now that Ramsey knows he has nothing to worry about, maybe he’ll decide to court you…”

I consider her words, wondering how it would make me feel.

I wasn’t lying when I told Ramsey I loved him. Every night since we’ve been back, I’ve yearned for him in the worst way imaginable. There’s nothing like looking into his stormy silver eyes or hearing my name on his lips.

Yet I cannot help but wonder at the things Elena and I have discussed before.

“I don’t think we’re meant to be,” I say simply, hoping they don’t ask me to elaborate.

Meg frowns, but none of the three try to get me to change my mind, probably because they know how miserable he’d make me.

We bathe, eat by ourselves, and laugh at village chatter. In Penticar, I had a few friends, but I was never truly close with them, except for Arwin, and it feels good to be surrounded by people who truly care for me.

Word has already spread that I was the long-dead Penticari princess, but when people try to approach, Meg casts them a look of warning, and they dart away.

If only I were born to anyone but the king, then, mayhap, I’d still have my mother.

“Don’t look now, but an ornery blue giant is eyeing you,” Meg whispers to me.

Just outside his hut, Ramsey stands, arms folded over his chest, glaring in our direction.

Elena giggles. “Have you seen the way he stares down any man who brings her food or offers to work on her hut?”

I get up from my seat. “Thanks for spending the day with me, but I have things to do.”

Elena nods. “Of course.”

I walk over to him, slowly, trying to gather my courage. His features are hard, but a soft smile curves his lips as I approach, which makes him look shy. And his matching eyes that are always so guarded seem, for once, vulnerable.

I chuckle at the notion.

“I like your laughter more than your sharp tongue,” he says, his shoulders softening slightly.

“You deserve both.”

He nods. “I suppose I do.”

“I’d like to talk.”

“As would I.”

We enter his hut, which looks the same as when I’d moved out days ago.

I turn toward Ramsey, and he steps forward, bringing himself just a foot away from me. “Asha?—”

I press a palm to his muscular chest and take a step back, releasing a shuddering breath. “I can’t…”

His face twists in confusion. “I knew not my folly.”

I nod. “This isn’t just about that.”

“Back in the forest, you said you loved me.”

“And I did. I still do. But there’s a lot of water in the moat?—”

“What is this water you speak of?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, it’s a saying that means that too much has happened between us.”

Tears form, making his silver eyes more glassy than usual. I’ve never seen a Tempest man cry before. I didn’t think they were capable.

“I should get back to the longhouse.”

He sidesteps between me and the door. “But Asha—my Little Vaeyark—I…I love you.”

His words knock the wind out of me, and I can’t help but be angered by them.

I remember how he’d said that just before charging the terragulf, thinking he was facing certain death.

He was willing to trade his life to give me a chance.

And yet we’ll still never be happy together.

He takes my hand in his, kissing my knuckles. “I am shamed for how I treated you, my Little Vaeyark, for I loved you when I thought you were weak. When you were weaving on my floor.”

“Then why were you so mean?”

“Ever since arriving on Melgrim, all my mind knew was conflict. I longed for what I left behind on Tempest…” His eyes press closed.

“Which was?”

“A princess. Not at all like you. I thought I would long for her until my dying breath, but that was not true, for it is you that I yearn for.”

I poke a finger into his chest. “You yearned for me so much that you were willing to send me back to Penticar?”

He grabs my hand. “I was scared?—”

I snatch my hand away, refusing to be won over by foolish words when he was set on pushing me aside. “Well, I’ve been scared since the very moment I was taken from my home, yet I kept going.”

“Because you are truly strong. Much more so than me. More so than anyone.”

I skirt around him, storming from the hut to the longhouse, determined not to look back.

Because I know if I do, every ounce of determination coursing through my body will melt, leaving me beholden to the man who once thought me so unworthy.