Blackfeather Woods and she came to Troy with a dowry; death

astara felt stricken to see her dam's eyes close -- in what? grief? her gaze sharply fell to wintersbane, as if accusing him of causing her mother such torment.

yet when relmyna opened her eyes, while their turquoise depth was brimmed with shimmering tears, they did not fall. astara stirred uncomfortably, instinctively flanking her mother's side as if to protect her from any further conflict.

from posture alone she could decipher the messages exchanged here: her mother seemed deeply rooted, as much a part of blackfeather as the black trees that sprouted from the soil -- while wintersbane seemed like the wind; present, but ever roving -- and soon to be pulled out from the dark bosk entirely.

she stifled a sigh, her gaze no warmer than before. wintersbane might have had relmyna's blessing, but the girl's were harder to comeby, and she felt only a sense of quiet resentment to see her mother bravely accept what she felt was simply disappointment and exhaustion.