Meaning there’s no winning him over.
But I already knew that.
“What’s wrong?” Amber says in a teasing voice.
Instead of letting my distress show, I say, “Oh, I’m just thinking of how much I’m going to enjoy pissing him off.”
Her brow skews. “Doesn’t he scare you?”
“With Grixis and Elena on my side, there’s precious little he can do to me. If he destroys my weaves, he’ll look like a child. If he tosses me out, he’ll look emotional.” It’s the truth, but what I don’t say is that yes, I’m absolutely terrified.
“Good on you for growing a backbone.”
We finish bathing in silence. Despite the obvious pain she’s in, she doesn’t let me help her from the waters, or even redress, which makes her wince from all the ties to fasten.
She’s a shell of herself, trying to be what she once was, yet somehow, not able to be. What she experienced out in the greater island, whether it be Ramsey or something else, has forever changed her.
“I should bring you to the cleric’s hut.”
Orvell is barking instructions at Kairi when we enter, and I can’t help but feel bad for her, because she seems to be trying her hardest.
But some of these Tempest men are impossible to please.
Before I leave, Amber grabs my arm, and for a moment, her pretentious attitude melts away, making her look like a normal human.
“Just a word of advice: don’t let him see you as a mouse. You have no idea how bad it is out there. We’d die without the men, and we can’t afford for them to have a change of heart.”
Anxiety churns in my stomach, because I know she’s right. If we had stayed out by the shore and in the caves, we’d have gotten by for a while, but it was only a matter of time before the wilds of Melgrim claimed us.
Somehow, I have to be strong.
I bid her farewell and grab a bowl of stew before heading back to Ramsey’s hut.
He turns to face me when I enter, his hands clenched, his jaw tight. Of all the men, he’s the darkest, his blue hues looking nearly black when in shade.
Every part of me wants to run, but I know doing so would only make me fall further in his eyes. If that’s even possible.
I go to the floor and begin working my weaves. Harold eyes me from behind a basket, but he seems to know enough not to reveal himself.
“How long until you are done?” Ramsey asks in an even tone, which is somehow more terrifying than his shouts.
“Elena has asked that I make several blankets to last us through the cold season, then there is clothes?—”
“We have hides and furs for that.”
“Elena asked?—”
“Enough about Elena. Are you incapable of having thoughts of your own? Of deciding for yourself?”
Acting like a castle mouse will only make me look weak.
I force myself to look at him.
Of all the men, he’s easily the most handsome, which is a tragedy considering his temperament.
Be brave. Look him in the eyes, those silver orbs that see you for what you are.
“Of course, I can think for myself, but I have more than my own desires to consider. My people have suffered, and it’s my responsibility to do my part in preparing us for the coming month—if not years. So while your honor may hinge upon driving a spear into a beast’s ribs, mine is in my weaves, to keep my tribe clothed and warm.”
