Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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I was still frowning when she stood. Between us, she held out a clump of dirt. I could smell it, the damp musk.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

I’d always been too busy looking at the horizon. Not the land.

“My people believe that the same power that created the red fog in the Dead Lands, the fog that almost wiped out our entire race, had happened before. Nearly four hundred years ago when the mrok illa star was shining in the sky,” she said, her eyes rapt on the dirt, pressing her thumb into it.

I hadn’t heard that, nor had our spies or scouts ever mentioned anything like it.

“It was a disease in the soil, leeching the life out of the land, sickening everyone. Or perhaps it was a heartstone curse,” she said. “Maybe once, the earth of Dakkar was like this. But we don’t have beautiful soil like this back home.”

I remembered Dakkar. While it held a wondrous, raw beauty, the wildlands could be desolate and punishing. It was a particular way of life, and I marveled that Klara had grown up living it.

After last night, there were stories milling around the horde about her, mostly positive, which boded well. After her dagger display and the questions the acolytes had peppered her with afterward, it was becoming apparent to the Sarrothian that they had perhaps misjudged her.

As had I.

She wasn’t a spoiled princess who’d had an easy life. She’d grown up like many of my own people and not without her own challenges. But questions of her lineage would undoubtedly rise. She was the child of an affair, one of the highest dishonors among the Sarrothian, and I knew that many would not look kindly upon that, even if Klara herself had had no part in it. She was marked by it and would be forever.

The Sarrothian could be a judgmental people, one of the things I’d hoped to change when I’d taken over command of the territory. But one could not erase centuries of preconceived notions.

The rest of the Karag viewed the Sarrothian as a rigid, unyielding people. But it made trade more difficult, negotiations more tense. It would benefit us to be more open to outsiders. Perhaps a large part of that change could come with Klara.

If she can bond with an Elthika, I knew. That one sacred oath that the Sarrothian expected above all else.

It wasn’t enough that Zaridan had given Klara her sy’asha. It wasn’t enough that I’d chosen her as my wife. It wasn’t enough that Lishara had given us a blessing at her temple—the memory of which was still a constant reply in my mind, a constant erotic reminder.

Klara dropped the clump of earth she’d picked up, wiping her hands together. I cleared my throat, the night returning to me.

To Zaridan, I said, “Sen endrassa.”

She made a sound like a half groan, half purr, energy being pulled in from the ground all around her before she unleashed it, catapulting up into the air.

“What does that mean?” she asked, watching Zaridan fly, tracking her toward the mountain.

“It is a term of respect, appreciation.”

“Like a thank-you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And where does she go? She sleeps in the mountain? Does she have a family of her own?”

“Zaridan? No. She has chosen no mate and, as such, has no brood.”

“Are all the Vyrin like that?”

I cast her a look as we walked back toward the horde. It seemed she’d learned much today. “When you get to be as advanced in your years as the Vyrin, when you have made a name for yourself among your kind and wield the power of ethrall, with all of its responsibilities, you have the luxury of being particular.”

“Are mate bonds not seen as desirable among the Elthika? I would think it would strengthen them.”

“They do. But equals are hard to find among the Vyrin. And they would never settle for less than their equal.”

Klara looked up at me, and I could see what she was wondering. If I considered her my equal and…vice versa.

My spine straightened at the thought, frowning.

“Zaridan’s brother…”

“Lygath,” I told her.

“Lygath,” she whispered, and a strange look came over her face. “Where is he now?”

My jaw tightened. “He is near. When Zaridan is present in the Arsadia, he is always near.”

“And what is he like?”

“Unyielding” was the immediate word that spilled from my mouth.

“I’d…I’d heard that…” She trailed off, as if uncertain how to form the words.

I made a sound of derision in the back of my throat. “Though the Sarrothian pride themselves on being principled, they sure do like to talk.”

“Ignore me,” she relented. Her cheeks pink, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Briefly, I debated telling her. It wasn’t a secret. In the end, I couldn’t stomach it. Not right then. “I don’t enjoy talking about it. Don’t take it personally.”

She nodded and thankfully remained silent on the subject. There was a sudden restlessness building up inside me, despite my fatigue. Brought on by the memory of Haden? Lygath? It started slow, like an itch beneath my skin, but it made my heart race. My pace quickened too, like I was trying to escape it, drawing nearer and nearer to my home. Our home, I realized.

“Did you find the Elthika you were looking for?” she asked instead.

“No sign of them,” my voice clipped, which she tried to ignore.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not yet.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence as my restlessness grew. When we reached the steps that led up the door, I stilled, and Klara looked back at me with confusion.

“I’ll post a guard out the door tonight,” I told her. But the thought of going inside with her, feeling the heat of her skin next to me on the furs on the ground, the strap around my ankle, surrounded by walls…I couldn’t bear it.

“You’re not coming in?” she asked, her lips frowning. “Sarkin, I’m sorry about⁠—”

“It’s not that,” I growled. It was exactly that. When I caught the flash of hurt on her face, I couldn’t stand it. Frustration and self-loathing cut through me. I’d wanted to move forward with her, but like I feared, there were many wounds that kept her away. “And please understand, Klara…this…this isn’t about us. This is me. And only me. Go. Sleep.”

This was why it had always been easier to be alone.

Now I feared I could never be right for her. That I could never be what she needed me to be.

“And where will you sleep?” she asked.

“I won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow night for another session with Zaridan.”

Then I left, heading toward the spray of the waterfall, trying to get Haden’s face—and Lygath’s roar as my friend had fallen—out of my head.

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Chapter 24KLARA

“Uncoordinated,” came Sarkin’s growl. One of his favorite critiques whenever I launched myself on the back of Zaridan, limbs flailing.

I was dripping in the wet night air. I’d come to learn that depending on the direction of the wind, the nights were either cool and damp or warm and only slightly humid. Tonight it was warm, but the humidity mingled with my exertion until I was constantly wiping my slipping palms on my pants.

“You’re not locking your legs when you land,” he told me when I walked off Zaridan’s wing again, his gaze cool and assessing. His arms were crossed over his chest.

“I’m trying,” I argued, hunching over, dragging in breath. “I don’t have that much time to make the jump!”

Zaridan was so massive that she temporarily had to tuck her wing that was closest to the cliffside during the drills, using her other to keep herself airborne. Otherwise she’d be too far away for me.

Today Kyavor had pushed us on endurance. We’d run for miles over the terrain, dodging through thick forests and crawling over any boulders we could find, even if they weren’t in our way. It was a good way to get a feel for the surrounding land that rippled away from the village—the Arsadia was quite beautiful—but I couldn’t appreciate it enough given how out of breath I’d been, on the verge of losing my morning meal.

The archives in Dothik hadn’t exactly afforded me the physical endurance of the average Karag rider. Perhaps if I’d still been living on the wildlands, it would’ve been easier.

I’d been in instruction with Kyavor—and Sarkin—for the last four days.

And Sarkin still hasn’t returned to bed, I couldn’t help but think. I didn’t see him in the mornings or afternoons. He only came to collect me during the evenings.

“You perfected it with Kyavor yesterday, didn’t you?” Sarkin asked, letting me catch my breath. I could feel his eyes on me in the darkness as Zaridan flew away from the cliff briefly, stretching her wings. It was an exercise for her too, to keep herself stationary, just underneath the ledge of the cliff.

I thought back to the river exercises. Even my grumpy little partner, Vyaria, had been begrudgingly impressed when I’d nailed the harness landings three times back-to-back.

“Yes,” I answered, a swell of pride making me straighten. I wiped my arm over my forehead.

“You’re frightened,” Sarkin guessed.

I bit my tongue. He didn’t have to tell me that.

“I see it. The hesitation, right before you jump,” he said. “Every single time. Get it under control, Klara.”

Irritation made my lips press together. “Oh, I had no idea it was so easy. Thank Kakkari, I’m cured!”

Sarkin blew out a sharp breath at my sarcasm. “We’re done for the night.”

Even I could see his exhaustion. His kya’rassa, his most trusted riders, had been on patrol for days on end. I knew he’d had a meeting with the Karath of the North yesterday too—it was all anyone could talk about.

“We’ll take a break from mounting,” Sarkin said. Both relief and worry filled me. “Tomorrow we’ll practice commands and control on Elthika-back.”

“We haven’t reached that yet in our lessons with Kyavor,” I said.

“Then you’ll have an edge,” he snapped, and I nearly drew blood with the way I was biting my tongue. “But I assure you all those riders already know what I’ll be teaching you.”

We were both on edge and tired. I didn’t protest as we flew back toward the landing field. It was the same every night. Sarkin would walk me back to our home, and then he would leave me there. I didn’t know where he went or where he slept. All I knew was that every time I watched Sarkin walk away, I felt another little prick deflate something in my chest. Hope?

Tonight, though, I had a plan. This couldn’t continue. There was a strange tension between Sarkin and me, one that had truthfully started after Lishara’s temple, but one that had only grown since I’d hedged the conversation toward Lygath all those nights ago. Ignoring it hadn’t made it any better.

My whole existence in Dothik had been ignored except by my brother and Sora. I didn’t want to be ignored here too and certainly not by the Karag male I’d attached myself to, bound in blood and heartstone magic.

I watched Sarkin disappear, heading toward the waterfall again, and I took a deep breath before following after him. Past the quiet stone dwellings on the outskirts of the horde and the lined pathway that led to the entrance of the hatchery.

When I rounded the corner of a dwelling, I lost him and I frowned, trying to see where he’d gone. Then, right at the edge of the waterfall, which was barricaded with a stone wall, I noticed a break in the blue shrubs that grew alongside the cliff edge. A small set of stairs was carved into the side, leading down the length of the falls. From the top, I could just make out Sarkin, disappearing into the darkness below.

Where is he going? I wondered.

Carefully, I climbed down the slick, narrow steps, noticing how high up we were from the base of the waterfall. The forest to my right sloped gradually downward, but wherever Sarkin was going, it seemed like its own hidden cove, separate.

I stayed within the shadows when I reached the bottom, the sound of the waterfall helping to mask my steps. I half-expected to find Levanth here—that had been my fear, even though Sarkin had assured me otherwise—but it was only him.

It was the base of the waterfall, the stream of torrential water pouring down into the base of the lake, though it wasn’t as deafeningly loud as I thought it might be. Around the lake, to the right, the forest was high overhead on a rocky hill. But on the other side of the lake, I saw flat land, a dense jungle of wild trees just beyond.

Sarkin was nearly undressed when I maneuvered to the bottom step. His head jerked quickly to regard me, eyes narrowing in carefully concealed surprise, and I couldn’t help but admire the dimple on the side of his firm ass, the muscle there carefully defined.

Likely from years of Elthika mounts, I thought, my breath going a little shallow when I saw the swing of his softened cock when he turned to regard me.

He waited for me to speak as he dropped his pants onto the smooth rock floor that led into the lake. He was standing there in all his naked glory, confident and certain as he met my gaze in silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” I called out, my tone casual, as if I hadn’t just followed him and stumbled upon him naked at the edge of a waterfall. Though my voice did sound a little high pitched, and I cleared my throat, dislodging the lump there.

“By all means, please continue,” came his dry tone.

With the nerves bundling in my belly, I had the insane urge to smile.

“We don’t know much about each other,” I said. “And I think we should change that.”

A rough exhale emerged from Sarkin. “I’m not in the mood to talk, Klara. But you’re more than welcome to join me as I bathe.”

There was an edge in his tone as he jerked his chin toward the rippling lake.

“You don’t think I will?” I asked, my voice rising so he could hear me over the rushing of the walls.

He didn’t reply. He really was in an awful mood tonight—broody, quiet, like he’d been at the wedding celebration feast.

I thought of how he’d been that first night we’d trained together. When I’d pressed about Lygath, he’d shut down, but I couldn’t stop remembering the panic that flitted across his expression that night. He’d been so close to opening up to me.

Maybe I just need to be patient, I thought.

I pulled at my clothes when his back turned. I watched him enter the water as I stripped off my sweaty clothes, reasoning that it wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen before, even if it made me feel even more vulnerable than what had happened between us in Lishara’s temple.

When the scar on his lower back disappeared beneath the water, I stepped forward until the waves lapped at my toes. My nipples were pebbled tight, the cool mist from the waterfall feeling amazing against my flushed skin and my exertion from the day’s training sessions. For a moment, I closed my eyes, savoring it.

“What are you doing?” he growled, having turned to find me naked on the edge of the shore.

Yet…his eyes were on my breasts as I walked into the lake, and my heart skipped a few beats when that gaze lingered. I’d never really given much thought to my breasts before, but the way Sarkin was eyeing them? I’d say the appeal was definitely there.

He ran a hand down his face as I drew closer. His gaze only lifted to my face when the water lapped around my neck and I treaded water toward where he stood.

“Since we are learning about each other,” I started, “one thing you should know about me is that I don’t like other people saying I can’t do something.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “Did you hear me say that?”

“It was implied.”

“Is that how you learned how to throw daggers so efficiently?” he asked, eyes narrowing on me. “Someone told you you couldn’t?”

“Actually, yes,” I answered. “That is exactly what happened. A boy who lived in the next voliki over dared me I couldn’t hit the center target. He thought I was too weak.”

“The same is obviously not working for your mounting lessons,” he pointed out.

“Yet,” I shot back. “Gods, give me time, Sarkin. I’ve been practicing for less than a week.”

I heard what went unspoken. I was running out of time. Even with my success in the river yesterday, it was obvious I was still way behind in skill among the acolytes.

“You’re right.”

I nearly jerked at that. “What?”

Sarkin splashed his face with water, scrubbing at his tired eyes. Had he been coming here every night? But where had he been sleeping? Certainly not down here.

“You’re right, Klara,” he said again. “I forget that you are Dakkari. That the first time you’ve encountered an Elthika, up close, was the shadow moon. I’ve been pushing you too much. I know I have. It’s only because I’m trying to help you.”

“I know that,” I said quietly, feeling my heart pick up speed in my chest. His words made me soften toward him, and I swam closer as I blinked the spray of the waterfall from my eyes.

“This is unprecedented,” he continued, gesturing between us. “A Sarrothian king taking a wife who hasn’t yet claimed an Elthika. It’s never happened before in Sarroth’s history. Perhaps in one of the other territories, yes. But never in Sarroth. That is why I’m hard on you. I have to be.”

I still remembered the solidness of his body against mine. I still remembered how it felt to dig my hand into his back, gripping the obvious strength of his shoulders, threading my fingers through his hair as we shared each other’s breath.

Underneath the water, my hands curled until my fingernails made little half-moons in my palm.

“I understand,” I said, my tone coming out a little breathless, almost sinking beneath the water.

“What do you want to ask of me?” he began, when the silence stretched and it was apparent I wasn’t leaving.

“Where have you been sleeping?”

“I told you,” he said, fire sparking in his eyes, “that I take my vows seriously. Despite…”

He was angry at what I was implying.

“Despite?”

He huffed out a breath. “Despite that we do not love each other. Despite that we barely know each other.”

“I’m trying to change that.”

He stilled. “The former or the latter?”

I flushed, but I hoped the darkness of the night hid the worst of it. Quickly, I said, “The latter, of course.”

He relaxed in obvious relief, and I didn’t know why I felt a thread of disappointment tighten within me.

“There are empty dwellings in the horde,” he told me. “Sarroth is vast. The majority of our people don’t travel with the horde. Only potential riders and those who choose to split their time between the Arsadia and our homeland. As such, there are always places to sleep here in Rysar.”

I nodded, believing him.

“Don’t ask me again,” he continued, walking closer to me, making my heart pick up pace. “I keep my promises, Klara, even to you. It’s an insult for you to continue to question my honor to our union.”

“I won’t,” I whispered. He couldn’t possibly hear me over the falls, but he inclined his head in acceptance nonetheless. Raising my voice, I asked, “Why bathe down here, then?”

I swore the edge of his lips quirked up. “Because I like it down here. It helps me focus. The wildness.”

“The wildness helps you focus?”

“For someone like me, yes.”

“You strike me as a very structured kind of person, one who doesn’t welcome surprises.”

“Then you have me all wrong. Or maybe you’re correct. Maybe this is who I am now, who I’ve needed to become,” he informed me, those eyes reflecting the silver light of the moon. I went a little dizzy looking into them, my legs treading water faster, despite my aching muscles. “Once, most would have called me reckless. Actually, everyone would have.”

A familiar feeling of intrigue pulsed through me like my own heartbeat. It was like the feeling of a brand-new book, one I’d never seen or touched before, but one that held so much promise. That giddy excitement as you peeled back the cover, as you thumbed through those first few pages of delicate parchment.

“But we’re not talking about that tonight,” he added, leveling me a raised brow that had my hope deflating once more in my chest.

“Then what are we talking about?”

I held my breath as his eyes dripped down the column of my throat and to the rippling water lapping just above my breasts. He wouldn’t be able to see them underneath the dark water, but merely knowing that he wanted to sent a dangerous thrill through me. My legs momentarily stopped treading water, and the lake came up to my lips, wetting them.

“I want to talk about you,” he said.

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Chapter 25SARKIN

“Me?” Klara asked.

“Tell me how you got your scar. About your dreams.”

Her hand reached out from underneath the surface of the water to press her fingertips to the mark.

“You recognized Zaridan because you’ve seen her before,” I said. “You told me that.”

“Yes,” she told me. “I started having dreams when I was young. They started slowly, easy enough to write off, easy enough to disregard as a child’s imagination.”

“But you saw the same things, over and over again,” I guessed, knowing that that was the case for Karag who exhibited power like Klara’s.

“An Elthika came to Dothik when I was twelve. We’d just returned from the wildlands, two days before. After that day, the dreams started happening almost nightly. In one of them, I remember Zaridan slashing out at me, and I woke up with my face bloodied, screaming.”

Discomfort curled in my chest. “You were just a child. You must’ve been afraid.”

“Yes,” she admitted, her eyes darting back and forth between my own. We were close enough that every so often, I felt her knees brush my legs as she kept herself afloat. How easy it would be to reach out and hold her against me. “But it was my mother who was most afraid after that.”

“Tell me why.”

I had my suspicions, but it was different than hearing her perspective. During our scouting missions and from the reports of our spies, we’d learned the Dakkari priestesses of the North Lands were snapping up anyone who showcased just a hint of magical ability. They were feared. They had the authority, under the Dothikkar, to take whomever they pleased.

“It’s complicated,” she said, her lips quirking in a sad smile.

“Help me understand, then.”

She blew out a rough breath, looking over the darkened, rippling water of the lake. I watched as her eyes tracked beyond the edge of the shore, going into the forest.

“I am descended from not one but two powerful females who exhibited Kakkari’s gift. The ability to wield heartstones, to feel their power and channel it. A human woman named Vienne, queen to the Mad Horde King, Davik of Rath Drokka, was my ancestor. She was the sorceress who used heartstone magic that unleashed the red fog over the Dead Lands, trying to save her husband.”

“And the other?” I asked, though I knew.

“Kara of Rath Serok. Who I’m named after. The first hybrid of our history, who wielded not one but two heartstones during the battle that defeated the red fog,” she said. Her eyes lifted to mine. “The ethrall.”

My lips pressed together.

“As such, everyone in my line has been scrutinized by the priestesses very carefully. We don’t know much about heartstone magic, but we do know it can pass down through bloodlines.”

“Does that mean your mother had a gift as well?” I wondered.

“Yes,” she said. “She did. She had visions, like me. Hers didn’t happen in sleep though. They could happen anytime, so she had to be careful. She had to be mindful about who was watching her.”

“And what did she see?”

“She called them the lost horde kings,” Klara told me, a sad smile on her lips, but her voice was strong and proud.

“The Dakkari who landed on our southern shores centuries ago,” I guessed.

“I can only assume,” Klara said. “She saw this place too. We are both connected to Karak, to your homeland. No one believed us, of course. Then again, I had to be careful with who I told because I didn’t want to attract the priestesses’ attention. It was difficult enough being in Dothik. I felt like they were always watching.”

“That’s why you wanted to know about them,” I said, inclining my head. “It proved you right. It proved that your mother knew a truth that no one else did.”

“People called her crazy,” she said. Though she tried to hide it, I saw how it still cut her. “They called her mad, just like they called Davik the Mad Horde King. They dismissed her. Part of why I dedicated my life to research and knowledge was to prove that she wasn’t.”

I could see the love she had for her mother.

“What happened to her?” I asked, straying even closer. She bobbed under the water when her legs faltered, and I reached out to grip her waist. Her lips parted, but she slowly relaxed into my touch, trusting that I wouldn’t let her slip beneath the surface.

“My mother grew up in a noble family in Dothik…because of her bloodline. She and my father, they’d known each other since they’d been children. They’d grown up together, loved each other. But he married another, one who helped secure him his throne. My mother might’ve been from a noble family, but they were poor. My father’s wife wasn’t,” she said. “Their affair continued for years, until my mother found out she was pregnant with me. She knew the queen wouldn’t accept that. She feared retaliation, knowing I would have a legitimate claim to the throne, especially because of my other bloodline, and so she left. My great-uncle was a horde king. He extended her a home, and she took it. I was born on the wildlands. I grew up on the wildlands.”

“Did she ever tell you who your father was?”

She shook her head. “My mother kept a lot of secrets—that being one of them. There were rumors. Children could be cruel growing up, repeating things they’d heard their parents whisper about. I never believed them until my mother told me herself.”

“I’m confused,” I admitted. “Why did you both return to Dothik then? Especially if she was trying to keep you safe?”

“My great-uncle died,” she said. “The horde collapsed. We had nowhere else to go, but my mother had family in Dothik, who helped us get established. We got a small room above a tavern in the market district. My mother worked there. The dreams became more frequent, and when I woke that night with this scar…that’s when she got even more scared.”

“Your father found out you were in the city. He found out about your birth,” I guessed.

She inclined her head, and my fingers tightened on her hips.

“He actually wanted me back then,” she said, a sad smile crossing her face. “But I think he just wanted to feel attached to my mother in some way. And I was that link to her. He was furious that she’d hidden the pregnancy. When I was fourteen, he had me come live in the palace. Maybe to punish my mother—I don’t know. But she made a deal with him, or maybe even the queen. Something I could never truly figure out. But I went to live with them…and my mother was sent away. To the orala sa’kilan.”

“The priestesses,” I knew, understanding finally dawning.

“One year later, I received news that she was dead.”

My jaw tightened, a knot forming in my belly.

“She was always so scared of the priestesses. Ever since our heartstones were wiped out, they’d been trying to create new ones. With the power that some Dakkari manifested, that’s what they would use—using people like power sources,” Klara said. “But more times than not, it would kill them. That’s what happened to my mother. She was used for her power, and it killed her. And the worst thing is that I think that was the deal. She willingly went to the orala sa’kilan so that I would be protected from that fate.”

It was a tragedy. Pure and simple. What the Dakkari were doing to their own people…it was pointless. Heartstones couldn’t be created.

“She gave her life to keep me safe in Dothik. I don’t know the extent to which my father knew. I do know he loved her—he wasn’t seen for weeks when we heard of her death—but he became cold to me after that. Like he could barely stand to look at me,” she said. Her eyes were glassy with a film of tears. “I just wish we’d stayed on the wildlands. We were happy there. Safe. Maybe she’d still be alive.”

“I’m sorry, aralye,” I said gruffly, my chest tight from the tale. “I didn’t know.”

She wiped under her eyes and then splashed her face with water. She gave me a half-smile, trying to dispel some of the tension between us.

“It wasn’t all bad,” she told me. “Dannik protected me. I met my friend Sora. I was content in the archives. I was content in my research, though more times than not, it was frustrating. But it gave me purpose. It made me feel connected to my mother.”

I remembered her brother, Dannik. By our reports, he would overstep the eldest daughter and his father would instead pass the throne to him. Would he make a good king? That would remain to be seen, but it had been in my report to Elysom.

Did it soften me toward the Dakkari male? Knowing he’d watched over his sister?

Perhaps.

I’d seen how protective he’d been over her outside the East Gate. Knowing what I knew now, my estimation of him increased. Because he hadn’t needed to love Klara. It would have suited him better to have ignored her, like some of her own family had, no doubt.

“Heartstones cannot be created,” I informed her. She stilled under my grip. “They are not made. They are grown.”

“With the roots of the thalara tree,” she guessed. Her own visions had proved that.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s terrible what your priestesses are doing. Pointless and terrible. Then again, most things are when it comes to power and fear. Together? That’s a deadly combination, especially in a group of people with unchecked authority.”

She inclined her head. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

It depends on what it is, I thought immediately. Then I felt shame. She’d been honest with me. More open than I’d thought she might be. But I was used to the Sarrothian, who kept their emotions close and their tongues behind their teeth more times than not.

She wasn’t anything like a Sarrothian. She couldn’t be more opposite.

“Yes,” I said instead.

“Is Dakkar in danger from an attack by the Karag?”

That wasn’t the question I’d expected. But she’d perhaps wondered why I’d been poking about her history. Did she think I’d asked about her family, her mother, her father because I was trying to glean information?

“Make no mistake, Klara,” I began, “the Karag have been monitoring the Dakkari for decades.”

“Spying, you mean.”

“Call it what you want. But the Karag do not make it a habit of entering a war with neighboring nations without reason. And certainly not unprovoked.”

“But you want the heartstones.”