“You are right. You stole my kill from me, and my glory. Still impressive, though underhanded.”
I giggle, lift to my toes, pull him closer, and kiss his cheek.
He pulls away, his expression troubled.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“You act most forward during courtship, which dishonors me.”
“Fine, then I’ll go back to the longhouse for the night.”
Before I can get three steps away, he grabs me up and swings me around, his lips pressed against mine as I’m returned to the earth.
The women gasp and sigh, like they’re watching a real-life fairytale romance play out right in front of them. And it feels that way to me too.
We eat too much in front of the dying fire, and with a harsh ribbon, the women mill back into the longhouse.
Dancing again, Ramsey wraps his arms around me, grabs my hips possessively, and leans down to whisper into my ear. “It is late, and I am most interested in a very different method of courtship.”
“Court away.”
As we begin the walk back to Ramsey’s hut—our hut—Grixis comes over, grabbing Ramsey’s upper arm and whispering something into his ear.
Ramsey nods, mutters something back, locking eyes with Grixis in such a serious way, it sends a shiver up my spine.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, saying a silent prayer to whatever god is watching over Melgrim to keep us safe.
Ramsey smiles down at me. “You need not worry, Little Vaeyark, as Grixis’s sharp words were meant only for me, scolding me for my mishandling of our joining many moons ago, when I demanded we return you to Penticar.”
“Yes, that was mishandled, and rather gravely, but I’ll let you make it up to me.” I bite my lower lip teasingly, and he swoops me up into his arms, walks past Harold’s new house, into ours, honoring my request.
29
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.
