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

ASHA

When the dust finally settles, Harold sneaks out from his hiding place and sits on a pile of soft threads, looking at me as if in question.

I scratch his head, which has two ridiculous horns that look like they belong on a goat curling from his temples around his ears. “You’ll be fine. I won’t let the mean blue man hurt you.”

As if I could stop him.

He squeaks, looking toward the door as though expecting Ramsey to charge in at any moment.

“You’re going to have to be more careful from now on,” I warn, hoping I won’t have to give him up.

I found Harold back at the caves, or rather, he found me. My mother always said I had a way with animals, but it could be the scent of the dyes that attracted him, or the soft threads I’d been weaving.

Whatever the reason, he never left, making a home by my side and allowing me to use his fur to make brushes to help paint my weaves.

Arwin nearly had a panic attack when she first glimpsed him, taking umbrage with his forked tail, horns, and flat face, so I hid him around the others, knowing he would only make me a bigger outcast.

As if that were possible.

Unfortunately, I suspect there will be no hiding him from Ramsey, and if I selfishly kept him around, he would not be long for this world.

“You may have to go soon, little guy,” I say with a frown, fighting back weak tears.

He tilts his little head and squeaks.

“There are lady mice out there, and it’s unfair of me to keep you all to myself.”

He circles his spot and lies down.

I’ll worry about him later.

I straighten my weaves, taking note of what needs my attention.

Fixing the damage caused by Ramsey is arduous, and a part of me wonders if it’s even worth it with what the men offer, but as Elena says, we can’t rely on them for everything, lest they think we’re weak.

The one that suffered the greatest damage is the weave Grixis requested, meant to be a gift to Elena.

Why even bother, though, when there are plenty of animals on the island, some with strong hides for tents, others with soft ones for bedding? Why bother continuing to weave at all?

They probably just want to keep me busy, so the Tempest men will think I have value and that I’m not as weak as I appear.

The unfortunate truth is, I am.

I’m not made for Melgrim, and it’s astonishing I’ve survived for as long as I have without succumbing to the cruel land. Stronger women have perished, yet I remain, depending on others to keep me alive.

No…

I lift my most intricate weave, finding it stretched in places that won’t be easy to fix. I could keep going with it as is, but the image woven into it would be distorted.

It might seem trivial that I even care about the design, but Elena said that it would give the noble maidens a small sliver of home and show the Tempest men we have culture.

I understand why that might seem important, but with the cold season coming, I can’t help but think it’s all for naught. What hope do I have of making enough bedding and clothes for us all?

And soon, Ramsey will demand I leave, and I have no safe place for my weaves.

But what choice do I have but to continue, as I cannot hunt and the other necessary jobs are taken?

Hopefully, Elena will know where to put me, and if there is no place for my work, maybe she’ll find me a new job, one the men will respect.

Not that I’m capable of much.

I go to Elena’s tent and find a bell now fastened outside. I ring it.

“Come in.”

I enter, finding Meg seated with her.

When Elena sees me, her expression falls. “Asha…”

I take a seat so that we form a triangle. “He’s back.”

“I’ve heard.”

“I can’t stay there! Not with him!” My tone comes out frantic, much like a toddler’s.

“I know he can be a jerk, but you can’t leave his place,” Elena insists. “The men will see it as a sign of weakness. You know this.”

Fighting back tears, I blurt, “No one thinks I’m strong, Elena.”

“The weaves you are making are important to our tribe, and that is where your strength lies,” she replies, her face sympathetic. “Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I look at Meg, hoping she sees how desperate my situation is.

Meg’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, but I have to agree with Elena. Your talents are needed and, unfortunately, you were directed to work out of Ramsey’s home.”

“I can’t believe Dogan thought that was a good idea,” Elena mumbles.

“Maybe we can build another place for her to work?” Meg suggests.

Elena nods. “In the future, another season, mayhap, but there are other priorities that must come first.”

There’s no point in fighting. Fairness is in short supply on this island, and the very real truth is that I’m lucky to be alive.

A knock sounds on Elena’s tent flap.

“Come in!”

Amber walks in looking like she’s slept in dirt.

With her first step inside, her back is straight, her face proud, but as soon as the flap closes behind her, a bleak expression washes over her face.

Elena gets up and offers Amber a hug, but it’s rejected, and Amber moves away.

“It had been so long, I wasn’t sure if something had happened to you,” Elena says gently.

“Oh, a lot has happened to me,” she scoffs, her voice tight. “None of it good.”

“I’m glad Ramsey was able to bring you back unharmed.”

“I’m sure you’re just thrilled.” Amber rolls her eyes.

“Believe it or not, I am,” Elena says. “I’ve never wished you harm. Well…that’s a lie, but I regret all the times I have.”

I’ve never seen someone handle their adversary with such grace, and it makes me proud that she is our chieftain.

The corner of Amber’s lips tug into a slight smile.

Elena offers her water. “Did Ramsey treat you well while you were out in the forest?”

Amber takes a drink, wiping her mouth when she’s done. “Ramsey is a ripe bastard.”

Feeling validated, I gesture emphatically to the soiled maiden. “See! I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“He’s an unavoidable bastard,” Elena warns, “and we should strive not to provoke him.”

“Are you suggesting we stop breathing?” Amber says with a light chuckle. “Because that’s what it would take.”

“Just don’t go out of your way to interact with him,” Elena says.

“That’s easy for you to say,” I grumble.

Ignoring me, Elena asks Amber, “Did you travel far?”

“This place is hell,” Amber says, her voice trembling. “Pure and simple. The shore was a fantasy. A fever dream that is not real. We cannot survive without the men, and to think otherwise is folly.”

I see Meg nodding in agreement, which makes my hair stand on end, as she has also spent time in the wild.

For a moment, we’re silent as the weight of Amber’s words settles over us like a smothering fog.

Finally, Elena sighs, exhaling a long breath. “We will speak of this more, but now is not the time, and I would appreciate it if you did not talk to the others about what you’ve seen.”

Whatever hope I’d had when I came to Elena extinguishes as I realize I must continue to sleep in the proverbial lion’s den.

I’d hoped that life in this village would be easier than out by the shore, and for some, it will be.

But not for me.

“Are you going to give me trouble?” Elena directs a sharp gaze at Amber, who shrugs.

“I wasn’t thinking I would, but who knows what the future holds,” Amber returns.

“The men have welcomed us, for the most part, and it would be good for us not to look divided,” Elena says.

“Have they, now?” Amber mocks.

“I’m serious,” Elena snaps, her patience running thin as my thread. “Our survival depends on these men seeing us as worthy partners, and that won’t happen if we’re at each other’s throats.”

“The men might actually think more highly of us if we get a little angry with each other,” Amber offers with a devious smirk.

Elena’s jaw tics. She presses her eyes closed, growling out, “Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t worry about me.” Amber turns suddenly somber, and tears fill her eyes. “You know not what this island holds. We are anchored to these men.”

“Many of us have begun to accept it,” Elena insists.

“Because they don’t have a choice,” Amber reasons.

Sensing the growing despair, I add, “Perhaps you will feel better after you get cleaned up.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Elena agrees. “And a trip to Kairi at the cleric’s hut might do you some good as well.”

Amber looks at her hands, which are caked with dirt. “A bath would feel good, but I’ll never feel truly clean again.”

I get up from my seat. “Let me take you to the cave we’ve claimed for bathing.”