Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Chapter 33SARKIN

“That’s why I chose this,” Klara said.

Again she was being vulnerable with me. Again I felt this resistance in me to give in.

“I gave you cruelty,” I argued.

And you gave me beauty.

What had I really offered her?

“No,” she said. “True cruelty hinges on your enjoyment of seeing someone suffer. I’ve witnessed that in Dothik, felt it within my own family. You would never want me to suffer, Sarkin. I know that.”

I blew out a harsh breath, leaning my forehead against hers. “I’ve given you no kindness though.”

“That’s not true either,” she said, her words brushing against my skin. “How could you think that?”

It’s not enough, I thought to myself, feeling my heart thunder in my chest. I closed my eyes. This couldn’t continue.

I made the decision, right then and there, to be better for her. Better for us.

She was soft and understanding. Forgiving.

I was cold and controlled. Unyielding.

I might not ever be the type of male she’d envisioned herself with. But I needed to try to meet her in the middle. Or else we would both be miserable. She might retreat back into herself, just like what she’d done in Dothik. I understood self-preservation better than most. I understood the toll it took.

All I knew was that it would be hell to see her like that. To see her a shell of the female before me now, with tears shimmering in her eyes and a soft, hopeful smile on her features.

Her mother raised her beautifully, came the sudden thought. But why keep that to myself?

And so I repeated the thought out loud, my voice gruff but certain, and I was rewarded with a radiant smile. I felt deep affection swell in my chest, a feeling that was becoming more and more difficult to ignore when it came to Klara. I rubbed at it, not sure I’d ever felt it so keenly, so heavily before.

“I wish I was more like her,” she told me, pulling away to trail her fingers through the starlight grass at the edge of the spread blanket. We were whispering in the meadow like two young lovers who’d snuck away from a village to be together. “Growing up, my mother longed for freedom more than anything else. I’ve been having this overwhelming thought that she would have loved to fly with the Elthika. It would have suited her perfectly. She was brave and fearless. She savored moments, like she was memorizing every last detail. She was this warm, perfect beacon of wildness and joy. She had the loudest laugh in the entire horde. I remember her laugh so distinctly, even though I’ve begun to forget her face.”

There was solemn grief mixed in with her soft smile as she spoke about her mother. I remembered my own. My mother’s quietness, her distant love, her mental retreat from me. She had become a shell because her body had betrayed her. Perhaps she’d kept me at arm’s length so that it would hurt less…when the inevitable happened.

I couldn’t help but think that our mothers were opposites of one another…and they had both loved us in different ways.

“I hate most of all that she grew fearful,” Klara told me. “She changed in Dothik, especially after my dreams became more and more frequent. Anything to protect me, to hide me from the priestesses’ watchful eye. Their ever-watchful eye. I think I became afraid too.”

Swiftly, I pulled her into my lap, catching her quick gasp, but I couldn’t stomach the defeat I heard in her voice. I rolled until we were lying on the blanket, with her stretched out underneath me, her hair a wild, wind-swept halo around her head.

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes reflecting the falling stars above us as she looked at me.

I leaned down. She arched up, but I didn’t capture her lips in the kiss I so desperately wanted to give her. Instead, my gentle words brushed her ear as I said, “You are beautiful…Klara Dirak’zar.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, as I felt a sense of rightness take root within me, spreading through bone and vein. It was the first time I’d ever called her that. It was the first time I’d ever claimed her for my own line. Our line. The name our children would one day bear.

“Klara Dirak’zar of Rath Serok and Rath Drokka, queen of the Sarrothian. I hope you know how much of a rarity you are,” I finished, pulling back so I could meet her eyes. She looked struck. Surprised. “And you were wrong on the wildlands outside Dothik that night. You do have a great name, and it will be remembered long after you’re gone. And when you claim your Elthika, you will claim their name as well. You will be a fearsome thing.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her expression was serene. Her hands came to press into my chest, curling her fingers into the scales, and I wished it was off of me. I wished I could feel the naked press of her skin against my own. It had been too long already. “Kakkira vor.”

“I don’t see you as a tool for me to use, Klara,” I said again, risking this calm, pleasant moment to bring this thread of conversation back to the forefront. But I needed her to understand how I felt.

“Sarkin—”

“Let me say this so you never have to doubt again,” I said, brushing my fingers over her scar on the side of her face. “You were marked for me. I believe in no god or goddess in this life except in my Elthika. She marked you for me. And I answered her call.”

I felt her breathing quicken against my chest.

“We may never understand the Elthika. Not fully. They live on a different plane of existence from us. They draw their energy from heartstones, their power is like the sun to them. They are magical beings, gods and goddesses in their own right,” I said. “And Zaridan led me to you. As a rider, you learn much from your bonded Elthika and they learn from you, more than you thought possible.”

“What did she teach you?” Klara asked.

My lips quirked. “Patience and discipline. I was reckless once.”

“I can’t imagine that,” she confessed.

I brushed my thumb over her cheekbone. “My purpose in saying this is that you were a gift to me, aralye. Not a weapon to use against your people. I will spend our lives learning from you, just as I have from Zaridan. My only request is that you continue to have some patience with me.”

Her gaze warmed. She had that same struck expression, like she was seeing me for the first time.

Perhaps she was. For this was the first time I’d ever truly felt open with her.

“Of course,” she whispered. “Of course, Sarkin.”

“And I meant what I said earlier. You can ask me whatever you want, and I’ll answer you.”

She smiled. Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to my lips, a chaste thing, but it made me restless for more.

“Let’s just enjoy tonight,” she said, her eyes trailing past me to look at the falling-star storm overhead. “Let’s just enjoy each other. We have a lifetime to talk. And we have meat pies to eat.”

I chuckled, though I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t relieved. Tonight was a first step in the right direction for us. As long as she understood I would take that journey with her, that was all that mattered.

“Sarkin.”

“Hmm?” I asked.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Hanniva.”

My nostrils flared at that word like she had me trained. Before there was the possibility of her changing her mind, I captured her lips. I’d meant to kiss her gently, but whenever she said please in her language, it drove all reasonable thought out of my brain.

Her shuddered sigh drifted over my tongue, and I groaned.

“I love when you do that, aralye,” I rasped, biting at her bottom lip. “When you breathe into me like that.”

Her hands dove into my hair, our movements becoming hurried and possessive. The fire being stoked, those embers burning low. The sizzle of falling stars overhead and the distant sound of Elthika songs joined our soft moans and the rustle of our clothes. She tugged off the riding tights hidden underneath her dress as I nibbled my mark above her collarbone.

I rolled us so Klara was on top, her bare legs straddling my hips. Pushing the material of her dress up to her hips, I watched as she unclasped the catches on my pants, pulling my hardened cock free.

“Let me feel you, wife,” I growled, hissing, my back bowing when I felt her drag the head of my cock against her slick, hot entrance.

She rolled her hips down in one swift movement, and we both cried out. And as the stars fell around us, as the starlight grass glowed with the stroking fingers of an unseen wind, I watched my wife move above me. I watched the sublime pleasure cross her beautiful expression and listened to the music we made.

A song all our own.

And I thought, How easy it would be to love her.

Only, this time, I kept that thought to myself.

In the aftermath, long after it went quiet in the meadow, long after we’d nearly finished the meat pies in the basket, we were lying next to one another. Klara’s hands were exploring me, tracing unseen things, her cheek pressed to my shoulder. I’d wrapped us up in the blanket to cover our naked flesh, shielding us from the worst of the chill. The rustle of grass around us felt calming. If I wasn’t careful, it could lull me to sleep.

But we needed to get back soon. I was loath to leave this place though. There was peace here. And that peace felt like Klara in my arms, happy and sated.

We were connected here. I didn’t want anything to ruin that.

Klara’s fingers traced down my back, and I suppressed a pleasurable shiver. I felt them pause over the textured flesh toward the base of my spine, flesh that had never quite smoothed with time. It was where my tail had once been. For a moment, I thought perhaps she’d find it too strange, that she would pull away from me, shuddering.

Instead, her touch lingered. Why had I never realized how sensitive I could be there? I felt my cock begin to throb, a low growl reverberating up my throat as she stroked and explored the old wound. I couldn’t help but capture her lips in a soft kiss. Her hot exhale floated across my tongue, making me crazed.

“You said I could ask you anything?” she asked against my lips.

The edges of my lips curled up in a lazy smile. I pulled away, knowing what the question would be. “Yes, aralye.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Not so much in the moment. After…yes. Like hell. It’s a phantom ache that takes years to shake. Sometimes I still feel it. Especially in the cold.”

“Do you miss it?”

“No,” I admitted, looking down at her in my arms. “All riders know how dangerous it can be. I was glad to be rid of it.”

“That’s what Sammenth said, that she would be relieved once hers was cut off,” Klara said.

“I always knew mine would be gone one day,” I told her. “I always knew I would be a rider. So, mentally, it was an easy transition. For others…it can surprise them, how traumatic it can feel. But it’s our duty to adapt to the Elthika. Not the other way around.”

She nodded against me, the fingernail of her thumb scraping over the scar, making me suck in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, jerking her hand away.

“Mmm,” I growled. “No, it feels good, wife.”

“Oh,” she whispered, her eyelids going half-lidded at the purr in my voice. She smiled, and I didn’t think she knew how seductive, how beautiful it was to me.

“Any other questions?” I teased, tracing the tip of my nose against her temple.

“Let me think,” she said, her tone relaxed and languid. “Hmmm…what does Zaridan’s name mean?”

I chuckled. “What made you think of that?”

She shrugged her shoulder, her hand returning to my back to explore more of me, tracing over deep ridges of muscles and raised edges of scars. “You said I could ask you anything.”

“That I did,” I said, huffing out my lazy amusement. “Her name comes from a word that means shadow. Zarikin.”

“That seems fitting,” she replied. “Did you name her?”

“No. She was first seen over a century ago,” I told her. “I read the records in Elysom myself. A horde traveling to the Arsadia from the north. They typically pass over the Zarikin Mountains on their way here. That’s where we believe she lived before I bonded with her.”

“She lived there with Lygath?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Or so the stories tell. The Elthika are nomadic by nature, much like your Dakkari hordes. But they do tend to return to one location more often than others, where, more times than not, they choose to nest. To hatch their young.”

“But Zaridan never took a mate, right? Or had hatchlings of her own?”

“Not yet,” I said. “The Vyrin are particular and stubborn, like I told you. As such, there are not many left.”

She went quiet, processing the information.

“And Lygath?” she asked.

“What about him?”

“What does his name mean?”

“Ah,” I murmured. “It means ghost. Spirit. Wraithling. If you ever saw him, you’d understand why. He’s so quiet. He appears out of thin air sometimes. You never hear or see him coming unless he wants you to know.”

“What?” she whispered, frowning, pressing up from my chest. Even I sensed the sudden, startling change that went through her. “Quiet, you say?”

“Yes,” I said. “Why?”

“He’s silver? A little smaller than Zaridan?”

I stilled. Silver-scaled Elthika were rare. “Yes.”

“I—I think I may have seen him.”

My heart leapt in my chest.

“Where, Klara?”

There hadn’t been an actual sighting of him for years. He’d hidden from Zaridan, even.

“At the Tharken cliffs. That night, just as we were leaving. I⁠—”

She cut herself off, looking down at her own lap, unseeing. She shook her head.

“What is it?” I asked, sitting up to cup her cheek with my palm, lifting her face so I could see her eyes. “You’re sure you saw him?”

“Ever since she marked me, I’ve always seen Zaridan in my dreams,” she told me. “But I’ve always seen another too. For even longer than Zaridan.”

I jerked. “What?”

“I saw him in my dream when I went over the cliff that night in Sarroth. There was an Elthika flying over the heartstone forest, and I was running, trying to chase him down.”

She shook her head as a knot lodged itself into my chest.

“I never imagined it was him,” she confessed, looking at me. “But if that was Lygath at the Tharken cliffs, then that’s the Elthika I’ve been dreaming of since I was a child. How can it be that I dream of both of them? Zaridan, I understand, if she was leading you to me. But Lygath?”

Karag who’d had gifts similar to Klara’s had always said they’d seen their intended Elthika long before they ever claimed them.

Realization churned in me, but I didn’t want it to be true.

“What does that mean?”

I couldn’t lie to her. Not when we’d just begun anew.

“It means there’s a very high possibility that Lygath is the Elthika you have a chance at claiming,” I said. A fierceness rose in me. “But Klara, there is always a choice. Do not choose him. If you see him at the Tharken cliffs, choose another. Lygath might be Zaridan’s brother, but he is dangerous and highly unpredictable. Most believe he cannot be claimed. Countless have tried. And like most Vyrin, he has no hesitation about killing riders if he thinks them unfit.”

Her face went a little pale at the words. “You think he’s meant for me? How is that possible?”

I shook my head. “Please, Klara. Tell me you’ll be smart about your choice, that you’ll keep a level head when the choosing comes. It draws near. I need to know you’ll stay away from him.”

If she felt the claiming bond with Lygath…I didn’t know if anything I said would sway her. It was a powerful feeling and an undeniable truth.

“There has to be a reason I’ve dreamed of him for so long,” she said softly. “Maybe this is it. Maybe Zaridan marked me not only for you but for him.”

Fuck, it was entirely likely. The Elthika could see more than we could ever hope to see.

I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead to hers as I took a calming breath, to slow the sudden thundering in my heart. “Promise me you won’t choose him.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, honesty threading through her voice.

“Klara—”

“But I can promise I’ll be smart. I’ll listen to my instinct,” she said, and I felt the warm press of her lips on the corner of my mouth. “Besides, if I fall, you promised you would catch me. Right?”

Suddenly the choosing loomed, distracting and menacing.

“Of course I will,” I answered after a brief silence. “Of course. You never have to fear that.”

I just wished I would never need to.

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Chapter 34KLARA

“Acolyte.”

When I turned, running my arm over my forehead to wipe away the sweat, I saw Kyavor was looking at me as he lubricated the mechanisms on his practice mount, knee-deep in the river.

“You did well today,” he said. I blinked, freezing for a brief moment, and Sammenth nudged me knowingly beside me.

“Thank you, Kyavor” was what I said in reply, inclining my head toward him.

Kyavor had put us through endless riding drills today on his Elthika, the blue-scaled one I’d seen the first day of training on the landing field. For the last few days, I’d been cramming in information on maneuvering the tethers—the leads—and practicing how to loop the tethers around an Elthika without a harness, which would be necessary during the choosing at the Tharken cliffs.

Wild Elthika were not trained…yet. Though there were many nonverbal cues that Sarkin used with Zaridan—like tapping her wing or thumping his fist against her flank or calling her with his cuff—those things were learned over time. Sammenth was still training with her Elthika. The horde—the warriors and scouts for Sarroth—had to work meticulously to train their Elthika. I’d learned it took years, even with some of the Elder Elthika’s guidance.

Me? I just had to get the basics down. I was no warrior, and I never would be. Just staying on the back of my Elthika was what I was most concerned with now. Well, that and actually claiming one.

Kyavor went back to working on his practice mount, which we’d done a run on before the end of the session. It was nightfall already. The torches around the villages were already lit, smoke wafting up from many of the dwellings as families cooked their meals for the evening. But training had been going on longer and longer this last week.

It had been a week since the starfall shower, since Sarkin and I had watched the Elthika migrate west. And every day since, there was a new sense of urgency in Kyavor and my peers. In me, most of all, because I was behind the young riders in instruction time, even with my supplemental nightly lessons with my husband.

Well, not the last two nights, I couldn’t help but think. Sarkin had been away. To Elysom, he’d informed me, with a small group of his trusted riders, Feranos and Levanth included.

I knew why he’d had to go. To inform the council about the heartstones that we believed were buried in Dakkar. Decisions had to be made and quickly.

I only wished he hadn’t needed to leave now, though I knew time wasn’t on our side.

He might not return until tomorrow, but I knew that the moment he did, we would be leaving for the Tharken cliffs. The entire horde was waiting for his return with bated breath, travel packs ready to go. Many would come with us to make camp, to watch the illa’rosh as it unfolded.

Sammenth told me other riders, from various stretches of Karak, would also be joining the choosing this year, though they were staying in their respective territory’s villages in the Arsadia. There were older riders too—some my age or even older—ones who were taking another shot at the choosing. I’d learned anyone could try to claim an Elthika of their own if they were of age, regardless of their instruction. But without it, it was a death sentence more times than not.

None of these things had done anything to quiet the steady rise of my nerves, as each hour passed, as each sunrise came and each moonrise followed.

“Where’s Ryena?” I asked Sammenth.

“Hatchery duty,” she replied. “Mating season is nearly here, so they are preparing.”

The two sisters had become good friends to me the last few weeks. I felt like I was making a place for myself here…despite knowing that soon it would be time to return to Sarroth. Even Vyaria—my grumpy riding partner—had laughed at one of my jokes yesterday during training. It had felt like I’d won something, hearing it. The blood born had been difficult to crack. They were a different breed of Sarrothian, apparently.

It felt good to walk through the village and hear my name called out in greeting. Some would press food into my hand—urging me to keep up my strength for the choosing—and others would spare a few moments to speak to me or to eagerly show me their dwelling, giving me details of how they’d decorated it while I smiled and nodded.

They were a kind people once you barreled through their tough exteriors, I was learning.

Much like Vyaria.

Much like Sarkin.

Ryena and Sammenth had been different from the beginning.

“I’ll never know everything there is to know about this place,” I confessed. We meandered our way down to a quiet place along the rushing river. My body was exhausted. I was dirty and hungry, and I missed my husband, whose absence I had felt especially keenly the last two nights.

We were good. So good. When he left, it felt like a small loss, a lost limb.

I hadn’t expected to miss him so much. I was surprised to realize how much he’d taken root inside me, filling up all my lonely places. When he was gone, I felt an aching emptiness.

“You’ll learn,” Sammenth assured me. “You’ve only been in Karak for…a month? That’s no time at all. I was born here, and I still don’t know everything. That’s the beauty of it though. The exciting part of discovery.”

I grinned. “That’s how I felt at the archives. Every day there was possibility to learn something new. I just think I’m frustrated because I don’t have the basic understanding of your people like you do. Of the Elthika. I don’t even know when mating season is for them. Or how the hatchery works. Or what’s going to happen at the choosing.”

Sammenth smiled. “Well, that’s easy. You see an Elthika you like, and you jump on their back. Done.”

“I meant,” I said, chuckling as I shook my head, “logistics. Do they drop you off somewhere? Do you share cliffs with the other acolytes? What happens if you go after the same Elthika? What happens if the choosing continues for days? Where do you pee? What if you don’t bring enough food? What if a storm rolls in from the coast? What if all the Elthika are gone by the time we get there?”

“All right, all right,” Sammenth said, looking at me in disbelief. “I get it. You’re nervous.”

“I’m not even nervous about falling,” I admitted softly, blowing out a soft breath as I looked out over the river. Behind us, a group of younger Sarrothian—not the acolytes—laughed and chattered as they passed by. Kyavor was still methodically greasing his contraption in the middle of the river, and I watched little waves splash into his boots, though he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m nervous about disappointing Sarkin. Kyavor. You and Ryena. The horde.”

“You can’t think like that, Klara,” Sammenth urged, taking my hand and squeezing it.

She reminded me of Sora, I realized. Open and courageous and extroverted and confrontational. They both never backed down from anything. I wondered how my friend was doing in Dothik, if Dannik had given her my goodbye letter, as he’d promised.

“You need to block all that out. Block out all those other worries,” Sammenth said. “Where you’ll pee? Really? It doesn’t matter! You’re in the illa’rosh! All of your focus should be on scanning those cliffs and waiting for your opportunity. The choosing can last days. The longest one lasted nearly a week. Most are over by nightfall. What happens, happens. You’ve prepared yourself. You’ve worked hard with Kyavor. You’ve worked even harder with Sarkin. You’ll be fine, Klara, but only if you focus.”

I hadn’t told her about Lygath. I’d dreamed about him almost every night this week, but I hadn’t told Sarkin. He wanted me to steer clear of the Elthika I’d seen in my visions for almost a decade. But I didn’t know if I could. If the bonding pull was really as strong as everyone said, would I have a choice?

Sammenth sighed and then continued, “We ride out during the dawn. We’ll reach the Tharken cliffs by the late morning. You can choose where you want to be, whether that’s alone or with others. My advice? Go it alone so you’re less distracted. Other acolytes might try to get into your head. And choose a place high up along the cliffs.”

In case I fall, I knew. I listened to her carefully, cataloguing everything I could. “All right. What else?”

Sammenth looked up at the night sky, twinkling with beautiful constellations I recognized, as if trying to remember her time at her choosing. If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to forget a single detail. “Keep up your energy with regular meals, but don’t eat too much. If it’s a longer choosing, sleep. If you’re tired, you’re more likely to make a mistake. The Elthika will move around. They’re just as curious about you. Though watch out for their tails if they try to show off in front of you. They’ll…preen. They like to be admired. During my choosing, one nearly whacked me off the cliff by accident.”

I bit back a smile. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” she said, sighing. “Don’t try to be a hero and go after a Vyrin. That’s how most acolytes die.”

My belly dropped with her words. I nodded.

“This was helpful,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and if you need to pee, try to do it over the cliff. The ledges are already small enough.”

I laughed. “Noted.”

“You’ll know your Elthika when you see it, Klara. Don’t worry.”

“Did you feel the bonding pull when you saw Orelle?”

“Oh, yes,” Sammenth breathed. “Heartstone magic, I think. Whatever is left of it. It’s actually wild thinking about it. Some scholars in Elysom dedicate their whole lives trying to understand it. Me? I don’t think it should be understood.”

I licked my lips. “And have there ever been reports of a bonding pull that’s been rejected by an Elthika?”

Sammenth frowned. “None that I’ve ever heard, no.”

Relief went through me, however brief it was. That was promising at the very least. I watched as Kyavor finished working on the mount, packing up his supplies, and trudging out of the river. I knew he had a dwelling close to the landing field, and he set off in that direction after a small nod at both of us.

“Well…except for a disgraced rider,” Sammenth amended, shrugging her shoulder. “But that happens so rarely.”

“Disgraced?” I asked, brow furrowing. “An Elthika can decide to leave their rider?”

“If the crime, in their eyes, is terrible enough, yes,” Sammenth said. “Only a few in Sarroth’s history have ever had that happened. The last time it happened was, you know, to the Karath’s father.”

Shock wiggled into my breast. “What?”

Sammenth blinked, frowning. “To Sarkin’s father. Tyzar rejected him after he stole the Elthika eggs? Surely you…oh.”

My mind spun.

“Sarkin…he never speaks of his father,” I said, feeling the obvious discomfort from Sammenth. “Or his mother, for that matter.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “Ryena will be so angry with me. I thought you knew…because well, everyone knows. It’s followed Sarkin like a disease his entire life.”

“He told me…he told me he was challenged a lot after Zaridan. Because some didn’t think he was fit to be a Karath.”

“That’s part of it, yes. Especially by Elysom. His aunt is on the council. His mother was her sister.”

Suddenly it felt wrong to speak of these things. Sarkin hadn’t brought it up, though he’d given me an opportunity to the night of the starfall. He’d told me I could ask him anything and he’d tell me. Since then, we’d just been…happier. I hadn’t wanted to shake anything loose when we were finally on steady ground.

I heard an Elthika’s trilling cry into the sky, a familiar one. I turned to look over my shoulder, my heart beginning to pound.

“Zaridan,” I breathed, seeing her fly toward the mountain behind the village to rest. “They must be back.”

I stood, suddenly eager to see Sarkin, despite what I’d just learned.

“Ryena always scolded me for saying too much,” Sammenth said, biting her lip as she looked up at me from our place along the riverbank.

“I won’t say anything to her,” I promised.

“I really shouldn’t talk so much,” she sighed. “Go. Go find your husband. I’m sure you’re eager to see each other.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I promised, waving at her as I left.

I looked for Sarkin for long moments but couldn’t locate him. Thinking that maybe he’d already gone back to our dwelling, I went there, seeing that Sammenth had disappeared from the riverbank. I spied her walking down the path to the hatchery, likely to see Ryena.

When I reached our home, however, it was dark. Sarkin wasn’t here yet. Nevertheless, I lit the hearth and the wax candles that dotted the dwelling, golden light spreading across the furniture and dark stone walls. I was filthy from training, thinking to wash quickly before Sarkin returned. I stripped off and hopped into the heated bath, nearly groaning my relief as I sat on the ledge that ran along the edges, the water lapping at my collarbones.

As I soaked, I thought about what Sammenth had revealed about Sarkin’s father. A disgraced rider? I hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. I wondered why he’d stolen dragon eggs. I remembered Sarkin mentioning the Hartans, wanting the eggs before a war broke out. Had that had anything to do with it?

And what about his mother? How did she play into all this?

Only Sarkin could tell me. I only wanted him to tell me. But with such little time left before the choosing—the realization that we would likely leave tomorrow, which spread icy worry in my belly—I thought it could wait.

I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear when Sarkin entered our dwelling.

I heard the quiet snap of the door bolting into place, and when I looked up, I saw him watching me through the gossamer curtains that separated the bath from the rest of the dwelling.

He held his travel bag and another bag, both of which he placed on the ground.

A sizzle of anticipation went through me as he approached, toeing off his boots, slipping off his vest, his tunic following. The laces of his trews were next as I felt my nipples pebble beneath the hot water.

Then he was naked, pushing back the curtain. The golden light made him look like a statue in Dothik of a Vorakkar of old. Perfectly sculpted, harshly beautiful, with a merciless expression.