I slip into Asha’s tent, where the air inside is warm and scented with burning cedar.
She looks up from a table in the center of the room. “It’s about time you joined me.”
Without hesitation, I take the seat across from her. “I had to make sure the camp was set for the night.”
She pours wine and hands me a goblet.
For a while, we drink in silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire.
“He never shared a drink with me,” she says, breaking the silence first.
“Your husband?”
Shadows fall across her face as she nods. “He preferred to drink alone.”
I stay silent, allowing her to continue.
“He was a cruel man,” she says, her words so soft I have to lean forward to hear her. “When he died, I felt nothing. No sadness, no relief. Just a void.”
I understand that feeling. It was the exact way I felt the day my father died.
She finishes her wine, then sets her goblet aside. “I’ve been thinking about our future and our houses. I believe we can create something lasting.”
“I agree.”
The firelight skims her face, illuminating the freckles across her nose, the graceful arch of her brows.
“Asha,” I say softly.
She shifts to face me as I lean down, but just as my lips nearly touch hers, she turns away, and they brush against her cheek instead.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”
A sharp ache twists in my chest—unexpected and unwelcome.
I pull back and run a hand through my hair. “We stand on the verge of uniting our houses, and you won’t even allow me to kiss you?”
“This alliance was built on strategy and necessity.”
“I thought it could be more than that.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, and I hate the way it sounds—hopeful, just like all those days when I tried to please my father.
Her shoulders tense. “Aleksander...”
I shake my head, forcing a smile I don’t feel. “Forget it. I’m being foolish.”
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, regret thick in her voice.
“I didn’t think I had feelings to hurt.”
She reaches out, as if to touch my hand, but stops herself. “You’re not as unfeeling as you pretend to be.”
My gaze drops to our near-touching hands. “Perhaps not.”
I stand and slip my fingers into my weapon belt. “We should focus on the campaign. There’s much to be done.”
Relief flits across her face as she nods. “Agreed.”
I turn to leave, but hesitation roots me in place for a heartbeat longer. “For what it’s worth,” I say without facing her, “I thought we could have had something real.”
