“Ah, you seem to be much like her.”
“You are not wrong. She was small, thin, and weak, just as I am.”
“It would not surprise me if she had some hidden strength in her, as I have seen in you.”
She frowns. “I doubt that, for strong, worthy women don’t die during childbirth.”
My breath stills. “Is that what happened to her?”
She nods against my chest. “Shortly after, I was sent away, never to see my home again. And then, my father took his second wife.”
My mind goes to my seed I cast so carelessly into her womb, and what may happen to her if it grows roots.
In all my worries about weakness and tainting my line, I never once thought Asha could die. That her body could be so fragile.
And now that I know, I can hardly keep from panicking.
She stretches her body, elongating it against mine, completely oblivious to my torment.
We were never meant for these slight, pinkish girls, and coupling with them will inevitably end in tragedy.
Yet I do not see how we can turn our backs on them after coming this far, and with Elena’s pregnancy.
Asha’s primal scent lingers in the air, serving as a reminder of how desperately I want her.
She is not your Little Vaeyark, as her seed is lesser.
Why do my own thoughts wound me, casting me further into torment?
Because I want what was not meant to be mine.
“Everything I have done is so that we will be together again, for you have always been mine, and I will never let you go,”the princess had said.
I should have listened.
Now that I know the truth of the princess’s eventual arrival, there should be no debate left. It was one thing to consider the Penticari when our success was clouded, but with it inevitable—the princess’s own words—what is there to even think about?
But to deny the Penticari would mean their death.
Cruel thoughts twist in my gut, because for once in my life, my honor feels small, and I care not even for it, and as I lie awake, deprived of my sleep, it is not with longing in my heart for the one I had once cherished above all.
It is with a heaviness so thick, I can hardly breathe, for what chance does a logical brain have of winning against the fiery passion I now feel for my Little Vaeyark?
18
ASHA
The wilds of Melgrim hold an untamed beauty that is as majestic as it is terrifying. The leaves are much like the ones in Penticar, only twisted, some with edges so thin and strong, they could cut through flesh.
“There are burrows hidden underneath these roots,” Ramsey says, pointing to voids along the earth, under enormous trees.
He’d been quiet all morning, refusing to even make eye contact with me, which isn’t like him.
Clearly, he’s not angry, as he has no qualms with expressing that emotion, which means he feels another, likely shame.
There’s no point in dwelling on it, or trying to convince him I’m more than I am. I will always be weak to him, and I’m not interested in trying to prove myself to anyone anymore.
Ramsey grabs a stick that’s about the length of his arm and hands it to me. “Poke these into the burrows, but stand a good distance away, because if you are too close, they could swarm all on top of you.”
