I will speak with Grixis, and he will agree with me, because despite his lapse in judgment regarding the Penticari, he is nota fool. He will see the woman for what they are: weak, of lesser seed.
And then, we will do what must be done. Something we had vowed never to do: return them to their homeland, where they can live out the rest of their lives in relative peace.
Getting them back to their mainland will be difficult, but not impossible. Some in our tribe will argue that the women could tell their people about us, but even if they do, who would believe them?
It will grow colder for them over the years, but their lives should be full, and hopefully, they will know great joy.
Deep down, I know this is the right thing to do because it will take them far away, outside of the princess’s reach, and she is a much greater threat to them than the coming cold.
But what would we do with Elena, who is heavily pregnant with Grixis’s child?
There may not be a choice in the matter, as death will surely claim her, as the Penticari are clearly not meant to handle our seed.
I look at small Asha, longing to peer into her glassy blue eyes and tell her that everything is going to be fine. That I will protect her above all.
But I know not to say such things, as her spirit is already so broken.
As is mine.
After she is done cleaning and bagging the bugs, she grabs her things. “I’m ready.”
We start back toward the village just as the sun is above us.
Watching her slow, defeated steps forward, I feel an ache rising in my chest—an urge to tell her I was wrong, and I want her above all.
Yet I know there would be no greater folly.
At her pace, it will take us two days to get back to the village, but I refuse to complain because I know she is tormented.
I am too.
She yelps as a ribbon rushes past, rubbing the gooseflesh on her arms, which is adorable.
Stop looking at her so longingly—it is the Great Princess Kasmina you belong to…
What if I do not want her?
The thought feels wrong, yet I know the truth of it. That after having weak Asha, I have no desire for anyone else, for she is the princess of my heart.
But I can never let her know that. It would be better for her if she hated me.
I quicken my pace, moving rapidly behind her. “We must hurry.”
She glares back over her shoulder at me. “Is something wrong?”
“We have obligations to our tribe that should have come before your silly dyes,” I huff. “If I had known about this special blanket, I would not have had us out here.”
I see her pretty features fall just before she looks forward again.
Good.
I nudge her onward, hastening her along. She tries moving faster, stumbling a few times.
As much as I want to go to her and carry her in my arms, telling her how sorry I am, I harden my heart in hopes that one day she will find happiness without my shadow looming over her.
“When will we stop to eat?” she finally asks.
“At our pace, we can eat when we get to the village.”
