Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Chapter 31KLARA

The new bed was waiting for me when I stepped into our dwelling. There was a break in our training for the afternoon, and I wanted to escape the plethora of activity in the horde, opting instead for quiet and peace.

Gone was the simple pile of fur blankets and cushions we’d been sleeping on. Instead, there was a padded and plush cushion—the largest I’d ever seen and hand sewn with embroidered silver patterns—where Sarkin’s raised bed used to be. On top were some of the softest pelts of white-and-brown furs. I sank down onto the cushion, testing its give, and spread my hand through the blankets.

It was heavenly.

Sarkin had done this for me?

I didn’t want to get it dirty—I was caked in mud from the river and sweat—so I rose immediately, backing up a few paces to admire it more fully. A smile played over my lips. It was one of the nicest gifts I’d ever received, though admittedly, I hadn’t received that many in my lifetime. But it was the meaning behind it that made it special.

There was a permanence about it. I’d told him that I’d like to sleep closest to the earth, to feel more grounded and rooted with our goddess, Kakkari. He hadn’t complained once, though we’d been, essentially, sleeping on the floor.

Then my smile died into a sigh. I went to all the windows and opened them up, placing the sprig of a blooming vine across the high table, admiring the way it draped over the edge and the colors that the pink blossoms added. It was sunny and bright in our dwelling. I went to the ice box along the wall, pulling out an orb of fruit I’d learned was called slime fruit. The texture was more jelly than solid, but I enjoyed the subtle sweetness and the cool glide across my tongue. It was especially good spooned over Mazra’s hot cakes, the grumpy cook always slightly pleased when I asked for one or two from her kitchen.

Unlike a Dakkari horde’s voliki, Karag dwellings had small kitchens and hearths. Though there was a central cooking hub in the village and most of our meals had been brought to us, hot and delicious, I’d learned most households cooked their own food throughout the day, which accounted for the little gardens I’d seen next to many of the dwellings here. Families traded each other for meat and spices or worked for meals from the cooking hub, performing jobs and tasks around the encampment. The Sarrothian who lived here were free to hunt in the forests in the Arsadia. They hauled in their own water from the river.

It was a more independent lifestyle than the one I’d grown up in, but there was still a sense of community and belonging, which was achingly familiar. It was comforting.

I sat at the table, watching a ray of sunlight beam off the pink flower as I munched on my snack. The quiet was nice. To hear my own thoughts. To let my guard down. To not feel anyone’s eyes on me.

The tension between Sarkin and myself this last week had already been tiring enough. Though, truthfully, I barely saw him, and if I did, they were only brief moments in the horde, usually around dusk, after his scouting party had returned. He’d been gone once on an overnight trip. To Elysom, I’d later learned, the Karag’s capital city, situated on a small island west of here. Another trip had been made to the Karath’s territory in the North. He’d finally located the missing horde of Elthika, but they’d taken up dangerously close to the Hartans’ borders, so he’d gone on a scouting mission there.

Over the week, some of my anger had deflated. I realized that Sarkin couldn’t possibly have been so calculated to take me as his wife for the purpose of using me if the heartstones were found in Dakkar. It was laughable…and if it were true, it meant Sarkin had visions of his own, which I highly doubted. I’d been hurt, yes. I still was. But I was determined to move on. I couldn’t change that I was Dakkari. I couldn’t change who my father was. Of course it would come up. Of course it would be used by the Karag as leverage. Sarkin would have little control over that, especially if it meant greatly benefitting his own people.

I just wished he could understand why it had stung. I just wanted him to acknowledge that. I just wanted him to acknowledge how hypocritical it was for him to question my loyalty when he would use me for the Karag’s gain.

Yet…he hadn’t. We’d been distant. He still slept beside me at night, though I’d only seen him once. He came to bed after I fell asleep and was gone before I woke. The only evidence that he’d been there at all was an obvious indentation and lingering warmth from his body in the mornings. Once, I’d woken in the middle of the night to find him sleeping, his arms wrapped around me. I’d lain awake, savoring the heat and scent of him, pressing my hand to his chest, before I’d gone back to sleep.

That had been the extent of our interactions.

There was a knock at the door. For a moment, a pulsing of hope went through, wondering if it was Sarkin, but then I realized he wouldn’t have knocked on the door of his own dwelling.

I finished up the slime fruit and answered it, finding Ryena on the other side. The horde was bustling today, I’d noticed on my walk back home. I couldn’t help but wonder why, but in the distance, I saw a decorative vine being hung near the flying field.

“Hi,” I greeted, smiling. “Please come in.”

When I stepped away from the door and let Ryena slide past, I saw her gaze go to the bed. Then she turned to me and said, “I’m just dropping this off for you. Sammenth wanted you to have some, but she’s out on patrol right now with the Karath’s unit, much to her delight and much to my worry.”

She’d grumbled that last bit, making my lips quirk, though I wondered if it was really all that dangerous, if I should perhaps be worrying more when Sarkin left.

“Oh,” I said, tucking a strand of hair that escaped my braid behind my ear. My gaze dropped to the basket she was caring, a delightful aroma rising. “What are they?”

“The meat pies she told you about. Our father’s own recipe.”

“Right! The one she said might’ve been a Dakkari recipe.”

“Precisely,” Ryena said, folding back the cloth that kept them warm. “She pulled them from the hearth before she left. They’re still warm. You want one now?”

“Yes, I’m starving,” I told her.

She wrinkled her nose, seeing the spiky pit on the table. “Slime fruit not cutting it?”

“Not with Kyavor’s training, no.”

“I remember Sammenth cleaning out my ice box daily when she was in training. These will help weigh you down,” she said. We both took a seat at the table. I’d left the door open, finding the breeze pleasant as it slid over the back of my neck. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” I told her, taking a bite from the pie. It was really more like a ball, a flaky crust with a savory meat filling. The flavor burst over my tongue, and I nearly gasped.

“What?” she asked, smiling as she watched me.

“It tastes like home,” I said quietly, feeling the sudden sting of tears rush in my eyes, and I was immediately embarrassed. Sarkin wouldn’t like me calling Dakkar home, not to one of his horde members, and my hand dropped into my lap, gazing down at the small pie that tasted exactly like braised wrissan, marinated in trilikki pepper, that smoky spiciness blooming over my tongue. Comforting and warming.

Ryena’s hand came to my forearm, and when I looked up at her, she was frowning. “What’s wrong? If you need to talk, Klara, I’m here.”

“No, it’s…nothing.”

Her sad smile was knowing. “I know what’s it like. Maybe not like you do, but I watched my father get treated differently. Sammenth and I have always felt like outsiders, not so much here, but if we ever stepped beyond our village in Sarroth. It can feel overwhelming. I just want you to know you’re not alone. You don’t have to try to hide it.”

I blew out a shaking sigh. I was touched by her concern and the meaning behind her words. But I didn’t know how to tell her that Sarkin and I had been fighting about the relations between her people and mine, not without betraying my husband’s trust or revealing my vision.

“Kakkira vor,” I said, giving her a small smile as I cleared my throat and blinked my tears away. Thank you, it meant in Dakkari. “I’m just a little homesick,” I admitted. That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t quite the truth either.

She nodded her head. “I was like that when I first came to the Arsadia. I do miss Sarroth. You always miss home because that’s where you have so many memories.”

“Why did you decide to live here?”

“There are plenty of healers in Sarroth and the villages that dot around it. Here? Not so much. Plus, our hatchery is here. That’s where my real interest lies,” she told me, patting my forearm. “I miss home, but this is my home now. It’s where I’m happiest, where I find the most purpose in my work. I still visit Sarroth, though I hate being on Elthika-back.”

I took another bite of the meat pie, biting back a smile. Thinking of that day at the Tharken cliffs, of feeling powerful and terrified all at the same time.

Kyavor had been impressed with my overnight progress when we’d returned. My next turn on the practice mount had seemed laughably easy. Sarkin had been right about that.

“Sammenth tells me that you’re turning out to be an accomplished rider. That you’ve even outshone some of the blood borns during training,” Ryena told me. A prick of pride made my cheeks heat, but I took another bite to mask it. “Maybe Sarkin will let you join his unit.”

“Oh no.” I laughed. “That’s the last thing I want. I’m not destined to be a rider. I only want to bond with an Elthika of my own, and then…”

I’d had the stray thought that had been growing more pressing with every day. Thinking beyond the Arsadia, thinking what would give me purpose in Karag. Ryena had said her purpose was here. I thought mine lay back in the South Lands of the Sarrothian territory.

“Then?”

“I’m thinking about archiving Dakkari history in Karak,” I said. I’d told Sarkin once, but the idea had taken root and wouldn’t let go.

“Oh,” Ryena said, surprised.

“History interests me. Stories. It helps piece together a broader understanding of being. Of living. I’ve been thinking that when we return to Sarroth after the rider season, maybe I’ll spend time at your village and the ones around it, to chronicle their stories, anything they might remember so that I can better understand my people who made Karak their home.”

“That…that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ryena said, softly pensive.

“This,” I said, holding up the food in my hand, “is what I want to understand.”

“Meat pie?” Ryena joked.

I grinned. “Yes, I would like the recipe. Please tell your sister that. But…ultimately, what I want to understand is the melding of two races and everything that happened—the good and the bad—for that to be possible. I think that’s important. If I don’t, I fear those stories and those memories will be lost forever.”

Just like my mother. The visions she saw of these people…I wished I’d asked her more about it. I wished I’d recorded some of our conversations. Now I only had my memory, and it was growing hazy. I hated that sometimes I couldn’t remember my mother’s face.

Ryena’s gaze snapped to the open doorway, and I sensed his presence before I saw him.

“Oh, you’re back early,” I commented, eyeing Sarkin as he stepped more fully into the doorway. How much had he heard? “Ryena brought some meat pies that Sammenth made. Their father’s recipe. Would you like to try one? They taste just like the skewers I used to get from the wrissan vendor in Dothik.”

Sarkin’s gaze was burning into mine, a soft understanding there, and I suddenly realized he’d likely heard all of our conversation.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to take you tonight,” Sarkin answered. “And yes, I would like to try one. Bring them—we’ll have them for our evening meal.”

“You want to leave now?” I asked, frowning, as Ryena stood, ready to excuse herself.

“No, after your instruction this afternoon. We can meet on the landing field at dusk. Dress warmly, lysi?”

He left, and I stared at the open doorway.

Ryena was smiling when she skirted the table. “You’re going to see the starfall up close tonight,” she said, her tone teasing. “How romantic.”

I flushed. “The what?”

“The celebration tonight? The starfall? It’s the time of year the Elthika begin their migration to the Tharken cliffs. It marks the beginning of the end for the riding season. There will be a feast tonight to celebrate and to watch it happen.”

“Then why don’t we just stay with the horde?” I questioned, though it was more to myself, confusion swelling.

“Because he wants the best for his new bride,” Ryena teased. “Enjoy it. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.”

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Chapter 32KLARA

We landed in a meadow after nightfall. The tall grass brushed at my ankles, and when I looked down, I thought the ground was glowing.

“What is this?” I whispered, crouching. I ran my fingers through the feathery light tendrils of midnight-blue grass and watched it light up beneath where my touch trailed.

“Starlight grass,” Sarkin answered, watching as I swept my entire palm over a cluster. “It only grows here, in the Arsadia. We’ve tried to transplant it, but it always dies.”

I looked up at Sarkin. “Because heartstone magic is still present here? Because of the temple?”

“We think so. Some believe there’s hidden thalara trees in the Arsadia, that they still seep their power and magic into the earth, giving this place life, giving Elthika their vitality. But if there are, there are not many left.”

I stood, watching the grass light up around the hem of my dress. Impractical to wear on Elthika-back, yes, but I had warm protective tights underneath, padding on the inner thighs, and the dress was loose enough to pull up toward my hips so it wouldn’t be a hindrance. A soft shawl draped around my shoulders, and I held it to me tighter. I didn’t know who had made my clothes, but they had been another discovery, another gift this last week. I’d pulled open the closet, intent to borrow another of Sarkin’s tunic for the training session that day, and instead found the shelves brimming with soft colors and light materials. Dresses and shifts, ranging from formal to sleepwear, in addition to a healthy range of riding trews, thick-soled boots, and durable tunics sewn with Elthika scales.

I’d picked a dress I’d admired since I’d first seen it. A flowy shift dress, a deep inky blue in color, embroidered with silver thread. Simple but…romantic.

Sarkin was in his riding armor, as I liked to call it. Tailored riding trews made out of a thick but flexible soft leather, a black shirt that molded to his shoulders, and a vest of scales with silver catches. With his dark eyes and handsome features, he was every bit what I’d imagined a dragon-rider king might look like.

The basket of meat pies was hanging off my arm—cold now, but they would still be delicious—and Sarkin pulled down his travel bag from Zaridan.

Conversation between us had been nonexistent on the way here, ever since we’d left the horde just after the sun had disappeared into the horizon. The tension between us was palpable, and I felt a little silly in my dress, wondering if I’d misread the situation entirely. But why would Sarkin bring me here? Far away from the village, where there was a celebration in our absence?

The meadow was vast, giving way to rolling hills. A stone’s-throw distance away, there was a glittering lake, small and still. The grass rustled around my legs as I followed Sarkin to the top of one hill, one that had a great view and vantage over the entire meadow.

“This is…” I started. Romantic, I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled, watching as Sarkin unrolled the blanket from the travel bag and laid it down on the hill, flattening the grass, though its light shone through the material. “This place is beautiful,” I finally settled on.

There was a chill in the air, but my shawl kept the worst of it at bay. I didn’t want to dirty the blanket with my boots, so I toed them off, feeling the grass tickle my feet.

Sarkin watched me as I stepped onto the blanket and lowered myself down, highly aware of his gaze and the fact that it had been over a week since he’d touched me, kissed me.

Since he’d knelt at my feet, my back against the cliffside, my body pulsing, and…

I blew out a shaky, nervous breath, and he came to sit beside me, our arms brushing, little sparks that nearly made me jump.

The silence stretched between us as we both looked over the meadow. The night sky above was shining, the glimmer of the moon picturesque. Everything about the Arsadia was beautiful.

I felt the earth tremble as Zaridan sat close by, her head raised to the sky as if in anticipation.

“What are we waiting for, exactly?” I asked. I thought we both heard the double edge to my question, reflected in the gleam in Sarkin’s eyes.

“Every year at this time, there is a meteor event. The migration starfall. The wild Elthika will pass overhead. Right here,” Sarkin informed me, gesturing toward the expanse above us. “They’ll arrive at the Tharken cliffs by the morning.”

A jolt of nerves went through my belly.

“It means the illa’rosh may happen sooner than we think,” Sarkin admitted.

“Really?”

“We follow the Elthika. They tell us when it’s time. They only stay at the Tharken cliffs for a couple weeks. Then they move on,” he said. “You’ll be ready. Don’t worry. Kyavor has been keeping me updated on your progress. He’s quite impressed with you.”

A flush of pleasure momentarily dulled out my nerves. “I suppose jumping off the back of Zaridan over a dozen times really puts thing into perspective.”

Sarkin went quiet, and I cursed myself for bringing up that day. That night.

“When you…” I began, glancing over my shoulder at the Elthika perched to our side. “When you had your own choosing, when you saw Zaridan for the first time, how did you know?”

Sarkin brought his knees up, and he looped his arms around them as I watched the cords in his arm tighten and release.

“Among the Dakkari, there are recorded moments in your history where your own Vorakkar, your own horde kings, have claimed they’ve been led by your goddess, Kakkari. That a feeling of knowing came over them. I believe I heard it referred to as ‘Kakkari’s guiding light’ once,” he said.

“Yes, that’s true,” I said, knowing the exact accounts he was speaking of. “Arokan of Rath Kitala, one of the greatest horde kings of our history, specifically said he felt it when he saw his human queen, Luna, for the first time.”

He inclined his head.

“Whether they felt it for their chosen wives or difficult decisions that needed to be made, it was there,” he continued. “I believe that the Karag feel something similar, though we are not quite as romantic about it as your people. We believe they are deeply intuitive decisions that you feel with your own instinct. That perhaps they are even powered by heartstone energy at times, threading through the earth and into your body, magnetic or electrical impulses.”

“I prefer the romantic view,” I informed him.

He chuckled, low and soft. My shoulders relaxed, wishing I could bottle that richly warm laugh. “I thought you might.”

“That’s what you felt when you chose Zaridan?”

“Yes,” he said. “I camped out on the cliffside for two nights until I saw her. I almost thought I wouldn’t bond with an Elthika at all. The doubt was the worst because it made you desperate. That’s what I think happened to Haden.”

“I didn’t ask because I wanted to talk about what happened,” I told him, biting my lip, worried he might think that. I reached out to touch his arm, though my hand hovered above his skin, uncertain.

He reached out, snagging my hand immediately. He threaded our fingers together, holding tight. I looked down at the back of his hand, tracing over the scars that sliced over his flesh, and then I placed my other hand on top of his. I stroked the ridges of his knuckles and the bones of his wide hands.

“I know,” he said, frowning over at me. “I didn’t think that.”

“What did you mean, then?” I asked. “You thought Haden was desperate?”

“Back then, Zaridan and Lygath were nearly inseparable,” Sarkin told me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zaridan’s ear twitch at the sound of her brother’s name. “You didn’t see one without the other. But Zaridan and me…we chose each other that day. It felt like a bolt of lightning, like Muron’s lightning, struck right through me.

“Haden watched from the cliffside as I took my first flight with her. He saw Lygath, not far away. We had already been there for a while. We were low on sleep. He saw me claim Zaridan, and he went after Lygath. I was too high up when I saw Lygath reject him. When I watched my friend fall to his death.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my expression drawing tight.

Sarkin heard the pain in my voice, and he looked at me closely. He told me, “I’ve made my peace with what happened, aralye. Haden made his own choice. I could not have seen that outcome. I don’t feel guilt anymore, but I certainly used to.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I argued softly. “Not at all.”

“It’s strange the tricks the mind can play on you” was all he told me. “But all of this to say…this time of year always bring these memories forward. This year more than ever.”

Because of me was what went unspoken.

“If you don’t want to do this, Klara, I would free you of this obligation,” he said next. “There has never been a queen of Sarroth with no bonded Elthika, but I feel there is change coming for my people. Perhaps you can be the first.”

He was…giving me a way out?

I breathed out a rough exhale. How easy it would be to tell him that I was frightened. That I was scared an Elthika might not choose me. That I would be an embarrassment to him, to the horde.

But I knew, as surely as I was afraid, that I would never be able to live with the decision to give up.

“I will go to the Tharken cliffs. I’ll claim an Elthika of my own. That I promise you,” I answered.

Sarkin dragged in a deep breath, making his shoulders raise. He nodded.

“There was a part of me that hoped you’d say no,” he admitted. “Because at least I’d know then that you would be safe.”

I jolted. But before I could say anything, I heard the distant flap of wings and a strange symphony of sound.

“They’re here,” Sarkin said, standing, pulling me up with him, scanning the sky. He turned and then said, “There.”

He pointed in the distance, behind us. Next to the nearest mountain range, I saw a massive shadow moving toward us.

I gasped when I heard something sizzle musically in the sky and saw a bright white star shoot across the sky in a beautiful flash before disintegrating. “Was that one?”

“Yes,” Sarkin replied, and I could hear the small smile in his tone. I could feel his gaze on me, watching me as I debated what to look at next—the sky for more falling stars or the horde of wild, unbonded Elthika that were coming straight toward us.

I settled on the Elthika finally.

Zaridan trilled, a sound I’d never heard from her before. It sounded like a call. It sounded delicate. She lifted her head high into the sky.

“Thryn’ar,” Sarkin commanded. The earth began to rumble, the familiar sensation of Zaridan pulling energy toward her, and then she launched herself off the ground to join the horde.

To join the celebration, I realized, moments later. Because that was what it was.

Hundreds of Elthika were flying together, very nearly blocking out the entire expanse of the sky as they drew closer and closer.

I watched them dance. They swayed and weaved in the moonlit sky, dipping and circling together, flaring their wings wide or gliding them close to their bodies.

And the music…

When I closed my eyes, I heard their song. It was like the sy’asha, the whispered song of their scales, only it was joined by trills and guttural bellows. The beat of their wings were like the sound of drums. They produced a symphony in the sky, echoing off the mountain ranges and funneling its way down the valley and meadows. It struck a chord within me, making tears burn in my eyes.

Before I knew it they were right overhead, the gust of their wings creating a storm of wind, whipping my hair, tangling my dress against my ankles. I tracked Zaridan, watching as she joined their dance, swooping overhead in a looping motion, making me smile. She let out a longing cry.

“She’s looking for Lygath,” Sarkin observed quietly, as if he didn’t want to interrupt their song or the awe of this moment.

That breaks my heart, I couldn’t help but think as I squeezed Sarkin’s hand.

For long moments, we watched the hundreds of Elthika overhead, a special performance that I hoped I could see every year. We said nothing, but he kept my hand in his. Sarkin had gone out of his way to share this with me…I would never forget that.

Falling stars sizzled and glittered in the sky behind the Elthika, a magical backdrop that seemed too ethereal to be real.

When we finally sank back down onto the blankets, I was grinning, watching the Elthika continue their way due west. Toward the coast. Toward the Tharken cliffs. Zaridan was still flying with them, but I knew she would return to us before the night’s end.

Sarkin was quiet, watching me, and I spied something in his expression that I’d never seen before. Something that made my skin tingle, awareness making me shiver. An expression that made my heart begin to throb in my chest, a caged little monster wanting to be free.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said, a little breathless, feeling more of the wall between us chip away. “I’ll never forget this.”

The scales on Sarkin’s vest rustled together when he shifted forward. He wrapped his hand into the wild tendrils of my hair. I was open to his touch, lifting my chin.

“I’m not any good at this,” Sarkin’s soft voice came, sounding almost amused, though I also heard a thread of frustration. “I’ve never needed to be. But I am trying, Klara.”

“We can figure it out together,” I said softly. “We have to.”

“Ask me whatever you want tonight,” he told me. “I’ll answer your questions.”

I tried to hide my surprise by curling my fingers into his wrist. “Really?”

“Yes. But I want to ask you something first.”

“All right,” I said, not denying I was a little nervous by the seriousness in his expression.

“Did you really believe that I would have unleashed the ethrall on Dothik?”

I blinked.

“You did,” I reminded him softly, the question coming as a surprise though I answered swiftly. “Not for long, but you still did.”

He grunted. “Did you think I would have let anyone die?”

“In that moment?” I said, meeting his eyes, squeezing his wrist. “Yes. I didn’t know you then. I didn’t know your intentions or how far you would go to claim what you wanted.”

“And now?”

“No,” I breathed, my brow furrowing at the restlessness I heard in his tone. “Now I know you meant the ethrall as a bluff. You knew exactly how long to let it linger. But even if I didn’t give you what you wanted, you would have stopped it. You’re a good leader to your people, Sarkin. You’re honorable. You’re fair. You wanted to frighten us, and you succeeded. But I know you wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”

He inclined his head, processing my words, and I spied relief on his features. Was this what he had been worrying about? That I thought him a murderous monster?

“I…I keep thinking about what we fought about at the Tharken cliffs,” I admitted.

“Me too,” he grunted.

“It was wrong of me to suggest that you would seek war with my people,” I told him. “I’m sorry for that. But…they will always be my people, Sarkin. I will always think of Dakkar as home. It’s where I was happy once, it’s where I lived with my mother, it’s where Dannik is. It doesn’t mean I won’t eventually think of Karak as my home too.”

His tone was low when he admitted, “It was wrong of me to suggest that you choose.”

“I’ve already chosen,” I said, wanting him to understand that. “I won’t ever choose to return to Dakkar. I’m here now. With you.”

His swirled eyes—all the shades of bright golds, endless greens, and warm browns—flickered, his pupils widening. He was so beautiful that it hurt to look at him sometimes.

I pressed a kiss to his cheek to soften my next words, but they needed to be said. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t say them. “But that doesn’t mean I want to see my own people suffer. And at first, it hurt me to realize that you would use our marriage for your gain.”

His sharp breath whistled, and he reared back to meet my eyes.

“Did you mean that?” I asked, swallowing the fluttering of my heart.

“You’re not just a tool for me to use, Klara. You’re my wife. And I am as bonded to you as I am to Zaridan.”

“But I understand that this began as a kind of…political marriage,” I said. “I’m highly aware that there is a benefit for you, taking me as your wife. Just as I’m aware that I can be an advocate for my own people, to soften your sharp edges toward them.”

Sarkin tilted his head as the words bloomed between us. My hand slid down his wrist, following the ridges of his arm and up his shoulder. I stopped my exploration on his chest, feeling his breath rise and fall beneath my palm.

“Wives have swayed the minds of their husbands for centuries,” I whispered. “It’s an ancient understanding. I’ve been thinking about why I felt so hurt by our fight, and I think it’s not so much the knowledge that you might use our union for political benefit but that I’d be kept out of that decision. There’s nothing I hate more than being in the dark. Than being ignored or overlooked or cast aside. And I…I think…”

My cheeks went a little warm. Sarkin’s voice was rumbly when he commanded, “Tell me.”

“I think part of the reason why I chose to go with you was because you were the first person in a long time to actually see me,” I confessed, my vision going a little blurry. “To look at me and see someone of value. To look at me like I was a puzzle you needed desperately to solve. I’d been numb for so long. I’d felt alone. Then you appeared out of nowhere with your dusty Elthika-scale hands and your unrelenting ethrall. And it was like the flip of a page. A new chapter had begun. And suddenly I was forced to live again.”