“I have brought great honor to Tempest in my battles,” I say, trying to hide my annoyance.
“And yet my womb did not quicken with your seed.”
While that is true, it is not only me who she takes to bed.
But I know better than to say that, because it is never a woman’s fault when they fail to conceive.
“You have been given privileges most men have not, and yet you have squandered them.”
“If my mistress would like, I can try harder.”
She giggles, making my heart light, but when I look over at her, I see that her face is not as it was when I was last with her. It is hard. Angry. Unforgiving.
After bringing me to the caste courtyard, she stops and spins to face me, looking at me with a callous disregard she typically reserves for others.
“Oh, my fierce Ramsey, you need not try anymore.”
Shocked, I look down as her flowing robes settle and see that her belly is now round.
A stab of pain pierces my heart, for we have not lain together in some time.
“Who?”
“It must have been one of the lowly barracks men,” she replies, her pretty lips widening into a smile.
I know I should feel elated for her, but the pain in my chest is so great, I can hardly breathe.
Why not me? What did I do wrong? I was honorable in every regard, and when the other men took their spoils, I took none, thinking only of her.
She looks over my shoulder. “Guards.”
Three Tempest warriors approach, one to my back, another to my right, and the third to my left. Their formation can only mean they seek to restrain me.
Stunned, I ask, “What is the meaning of this?”
“You have failed me, and I have no use for failure in my court.”
“Am I to be sent to battle?” I ask, confused. “Because if that is the case, you need not force me. I revel in battle and victory.”
“No, you are not to go to battle, dear Ramsey. You are to be exiled.”
1
RAMSEY
Present Day
I should have let the mud pit claim her.
The trail narrows, forcing me to walk behind the small human at such a slow pace I fear I might trip over my feet.
For days, we have trudged through forest and mud and murky waters, and now that home is within reach, she slows further.
But what else am I to expect from Amber, who is more contrarian than even myself?
She sighs, doubling over, panting out noisy breaths.
These Penticari women tire too easily, from hardly any effort. Coupling with them is an affront to Tempest, yet with Elena’s pregnancy, there is little to be done about it.
