Page 34 of The Warlord’s Princess (Warlords of Tempest #3)

RAMSEY

I limp toward the cleric’s hut, my honor thinning with every step.

“My leg!” I cry as I burst through the door.

Kairi, who is attending to Argen, blinks over at me.

“My leg! I fell and it is twisted.”

Kairi’s mouth falls open.

“I said my leg is twisted!” I growl, feeling shame course through my veins.

But this was the price that was named for Harold’s dapper outfit, and I will not shuck paying it.

“Oh—your leg!” Flustered, Kairi walks over, looking anxiously between me and Argen.

Argen cocks his head to the side. “Since when do you need help with a twisted leg?”

“Since I twisted it!” I snap.

“Is this a trick of courtship?” Argen argues. “Because you already have Asha?—”

“I do not seek to court this lesser Penticari!” I gesture to Kairi.

Kairi’s brow narrows; her nose scrunching. “Did you just call me a lesser?”

“Compared to Asha, all Penticari are lesser.”

Argen gets up from the cot, cursing under his breath as he moves to exit.

“What about your stomach?” Kairi says to Argen.

“I am fine,” he snarls on his way out.

Kairi blinks a bunch of times.

I hunch over. “My leg—how am I to hunt?”

“Oh—” Kairi’s eyes gain sudden clarity. “Sit on the cot!”

I obey, crying out as I put weight on my leg.

“Louder!” she whispers.

“My leg—” I cry louder, holding my knee.

Orvell darts through the door. “What is it?”

“It’s fine,” Kairi says. “I’ll help him.”

Orvell comes over to me. “I will see to him.”

“No, I must have Kairi see to me,” I huff.

“Are you mad?” Orvell sneers.

Kairi rushes around the hut, grinding herbs.

Remembering what I must do, I grab my leg, “Owww—Sweet Tempest—” I wipe my eyes vigorously.

Orvell gasps. “Strong Ramsey—are you crying?”

“No!” I shout. It is the truth.

Kairi thrusts a cup of tea into my hand. “Drink.”

I gulp the tea, which is meant to calm the nerves, and a moment later, warmth spreads up my leg as she applies salve up its length.

“Those herbs are not good!” Orvell snarls. “I keep telling her that!”

“If they are no good, why do I no longer feel pain?” I flex my leg.

Shock overwhelms Orvell’s ornery features.

“Try walking again,” Kairi urges.

I get up from the cot and walk in a small circle, wincing slightly.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“Better, but it still throbs with pressure.”

She hands me a jar of the salve she made. “Rub this on your leg whenever you feel the pain return. It should be fully healed within a few days.”

“I am most thankful.” I grab the jar, pausing before exiting the hut. “Asha wished you to have this.” I take the thread she gave me from my pouch and hand it to Orvell, who grumbles his thanks.

I exit the hut, finding Grixis, Asha, and Elena waiting close by, faces red from trying to suppress their laughter.

Asha’s hair is a wild golden halo around her head, which Arwin jokingly wove as her crown, because after word got out that she was a Penticari princess, people have taken to calling her that.

I still do not understand how my Little Vaeyark has eyes only for me when I was so foolish as to mistreat her, but I vow to spend my every waking hour bringing honor to myself so that I might be worthy of her.

And that included me honoring my trip to the cleric’s hut.

When I told Asha about the injury I had to fake for Kairi, she told Elena, who then told Grixis. They were all too excited to watch.

“My debt is paid,” I deadpan.

“We heard you wailing.” Elena chuckles the words out.

“If you are done laughing, let us eat,” I scoff.

We head to the cauldrons and smokers, which is now called Cook’s Row, and grab midday meal. Asha and Elena have started to spice their meat more, which is good, as they are adapting to the bounty of the land.

From the northern edge of the village, Araelya and Fiona trudge toward us, hauling back an endergulf with Elric and Ulof trailing them.

They get stronger with each day that passes, exceeding my people’s expectations, and even their own.

A huffing catches my attention. I turn to see Nori rushing over, threads overflowing her hands. Dogan follows behind.

She stops in front of Asha; her face red, sweat pouring down her forehead.

“I saw it!” she pants, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts. “I saw what’s making the dye look like it’s moving!” She shakes the threads.

“What?” Asha and Elena say in unison.

“There’s something on it—something alive—super tiny, moving, changing, somehow.”

Grixis and I exchange worried glances.

“You mean bugs?” Elena says with a gasp.

“Too small. Back on Penticar, there was talk about tiny things you couldn’t see with the naked eye that could only be viewed by lenses. I saw them a time or two, myself, but I was always so busy wondering about other things that I never got around to researching them.”

“How did you see them?” Grixis asks in an accusatory tone.

“Dogan helped me find a bunch of lenses, and I was able to place them so that—” She sighs, then leans forward, catching her breath. “Never mind. Sorry, I know I over-explain. And I’m sorry I said I’m sorry—I know it’s weak?—”

“It’s fine,” Elena rushes out. “Just tell us if there’s a point to this.”

“I think whatever I saw under the lenses is…I don’t know…adapting.”

Sweet Tempest…

“Adapting to what?” Asha asks.

“The—”

“The land?—”

“Enough,” Grixis grumbles, casting a stern look at Dogan. “Whatever you have found should not get in the way of our chores, for there is much to be done. If you have so much free time, perhaps you should help in some other way.”

“Grix—” Elena begins, but he casts her a stern look.

“My men are doing much and more to help your people survive, and if they knew she was spending precious time looking through lenses, they would be most unhappy.”

Elena nods and looks at Nori. “Maybe another season we can look again?”

Nori nods, frowning. “I understand.”

She walks away with Dogan trailing her, and a sudden dread fills me because I know this could mean trouble. Grixis does too.

Amber’s voice rises from the longhouse and a door slams. She glares at us before walking towards the edge of the village, towards the tanning hut.

“She still hasn’t learned,” Asha says with a chuckle.

Elena’s gaze follows Amber. “She will.”

After our meal, we part, but not before Grixis pulls me aside and whispers, “Tomorrow is when we meet.”

After festival, he approached to say we must talk in a tone most worrisome, but has not said a word since.

“Council?”

He shakes his head no and storms off, and I can only guess that Nori’s discovery has him worried.

I, too, am burdened.

Asha and I help around the village before going back to our hut. Worried that Harold’s tiny home would attract a predator into the village, we moved it inside, and she speaks to him as she weaves.

“Why will you not show me the blanket you are working on?” I ask.

“Because it’s special, and besides, it’s still a long way off from being done.”

“Would that not make you want to show me more?”

“It’s meant for Elena and her baby, and will be unveiled when we come together again to celebrate.”

“You are so quick with your fingers and weaves that I am surprised you are not done already.”

“I’d had an idea of what I was going to weave, but it changed, and I redid everything.”

I grumble in annoyance, though I am not at all upset.

“Ramsey?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me about Tempest?”

“What is it about Tempest you would like to know?”

“What does your land look like? And your buildings. How are they shaped? If you can, draw them on the earth with a stick.”

Seeing no harm in her request, I take her outside, and while she weaves, I draw buildings, castles, and other elements of Tempest, some long forgotten, until now.

She asks me about the colors and the materials used to build. Details that could easily go unnoticed.

And I feel not a hint of sadness, as my heart no longer yearns for Tempest and Princess Kasmina, for there is only one true princess in my heart.

As the sun sets, we retire to bed, and again, my Little Vaeyark’s scent entices me.

I strip my princess bare, marveling at the wonders of her soft flesh. Her hands are just as greedy as my own, pulling at the ties of my clothes, only pausing to look me in the eye and whisper, “Forever?”

I nod. “I will never let another come between us, my Little Vaeyark. You are mine forever.”

My mouth descends on her delicate flesh, licking and tasting in tune with the writhing of her body, and when I claim her, and we are joined, it is with the desire that my seed will take root, and that we will be blessed with a child of our own, a daughter or a son, a little version of us that will forever bind us more than we are now. If that is even possible.

And when she falls asleep in my arms, exhausted and sighing, I make a silent vow to do anything in my power to keep her safe.

Even if it means disavowing my allegiance to Tempest.