Blackfeather Woods Se gīda gō se jelmāzma

so he was leaving.
how accursed she was! not to have the gift of speech. relmyna's soft gaze searched the resolute planes of damien's face as he spoke. the way things are. quickly her mind worked; he had come home, only to gather strength for a spiritual trek. perhaps he did not wish the woods in the hands of an apaata. while kove's might had kept safe the home of blackfeather, he was not a melonii, not to her knowledge.
a black-tipped ear flicked; relmyna felt a tremble flutter tuggingly along her torn lips. it was such a honeyed offer the prince extended, to be taken into whatever fold damien would create. but her own resolution had always been that the daughters of cicero be reared in his birthplace. and so she could not pledge herself, only blink back the saltwater that had collected in her eyes and reach to touch his chin softly. go with my blessing.