Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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“It’s already done,” Sarkin rasped. His aunt froze, a glare forming. “Zaridan has accepted her. I heard the sy’asha. An Elthika’s song is more powerful than any binding ceremony in this mortal life. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

The sy’asha?

An Elthika’s song?

Immediately, I knew what he was referring to. That moment on the wildlands, outside the East Gate. It seemed as if Zaridan’s scales had whispered, a song only we could hear. It had been mesmerizing, lulling. I still remember the heat of Sarkin at my back, the brush of his thumb across my neck, the rhythm and softness of it.

My breath shuddered out. What was he saying? That we were already married? Because of that singular, unexpected moment?

“You still have to go to the Arsadia to bind it,” she said quietly.

“Which is why we leave at dawn,” Sarkin answered, and I could hear the smugness in his tone. “Or will you try to have her killed before then?”

I stiffened.

“Don’t tempt me,” his aunt replied, her tone clipped, her eyes practically burning holes into Sarkin’s head. The hostility between them was even greater than my stepmother’s hatred of me.

“If you try, you will have three kings to answer to for her death. One old, one new…and her husband,” Sarkin replied. I swallowed, my breath shuddering out of me. One old…my father? One new? He must’ve meant Dannik. “She is of royal blood. Dakkari, yes, but ancient lines all the same.”

The aunt’s glare cut to me. “What is your name, Dakkari?”

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth. A long moment of silence passed. Even the group quieted behind her, waiting for me to speak. It was discomforting, I realized, to give my name so freely to strangers. But this was the Karag way, I remembered.

Names should not be hidden, Dakkari. Names should be feared. Those had been Sarkin’s words. A part of me liked the sentiment.

“Klara of Rath Serok,” I answered, “and Rath Drokka.”

Murmuring went through the rest of the group. Were they the council she had spoken about? Advisors to her? Or to Sarkin?

“The Dothikkar’s daughter,” the aunt said, her tone cold and measured. Her eyes—yellow as gold—swept me up and down, calculating. They fastened on my face, and I felt them touch on my scar. Her lips parted and she moved forward. When she reached for my face, I heard the whistle of a blade. Sarkin’s reflexes were quick, a dagger at the ready, glinting in his grip. She paid it no mind, as if this were a common occurrence.

For all I knew, it was.

“Watch yourself, Kethra,” Sarkin warned, tone low.

“Will you spill my blood here for the council to see?” she answered. “Just as your father did to your mother?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, but then her fingers pressed into my scar. Her lips parted, her brows rose.

“I see,” she breathed, eyes narrowing. Then Kethra laughed, the sound booming as she took a step back. The sweep of her tail brushed my ankles when her back turned. “Such an unremarkable girl to bear such a mark.”

A pit lodged itself into my belly. Was I to be shunned here too? Cast aside? Looked down upon? I was a long way from Dakkar, and still…my problems would be the same?

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Sarkin,” Kethra snipped.

She stalked away, her strides short and clipped. A few members of the group followed until only a couple lingered.

A dark-skinned male stepped toward us, his blue eyes regarding me before fastening on Sarkin. He inclined his head briefly, his eyes closing. When he opened them, he touched silver markings below both of his eyes, the right, then the left. He touched the middle of his forehead and then gestured to Sarkin.

“Karath,” the male said.

“Endrassa, Gevanth,” Sarkin said, pressing his fingers to his own forehead. A Karag sign of greeting, I assumed.

The male’s voice was booming and rich when he said, “And thank you for riling her up. It will be a long journey home now.”

“Difficult to break old habits” was what Sarkin replied. He stepped forward, clutching Gevanth’s outstretched forearm with his own.

“It is when you don’t try to break them,” Gevanth replied. “She would know that better than anyone. You have more in common than either of you would ever admit.”

“Blood is blood,” Sarkin rasped.

“I’ll need your patrol report. The council will call a meeting once we have it.”

Report…on my home? On the Dakkari? To find weakness?

“I’ll send it” was all Sarkin replied. “I’d ask you to stay and rest, friend, but with all due respect, get out of Sarroth. I have enough Elysom problems. I don’t need a dozen more staying in my citadel.”

Gevanth laughed, gruff and short. “Kethra, I’m sure, is already on dragonback to Elysom.”

“Then make sure she stays there,” Sarkin returned. “I meant what I said, Gevanth.”

“I know,” the male replied, inclining his head. His eyes cut to mine, I felt him observing my scar, and then he turned. Without so much as a goodbye—not that Sarkin seemed to want one—he left, the last of the council leaving with him. Until the stone terrace was cleared out, save for myself, Sarkin, and his rider, whose name I still didn’t know.

“That went well,” the rider declared, the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Next time,” Sarkin said, “keep the citadel gates locked. They can rot outside for all I care.”

“I was as surprised as you were.”

“How did they know?” Sarkin growled.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out. A watch, perhaps. On the south coast. But we’ve had no reports of riders crossing our territories.”

Sarkin sharply exhaled. “Elysom always knows things they shouldn’t. And you know how that usually happens? A weapon. But now we have our own.”

My spine snapped and I frowned. “I am not yours to use.”

“That’s exactly what you are,” Sarkin answered, so dismissively it made my hackles rise. “Mine to use however I see fit.”

Impossible male! I thought, frustration making my jaw grit. I was tired, hungry, and so sore I didn’t want to move.

“Why don’t you just knock me out so I can dream for you?” I asked, my voice intentionally sweet.

Sarkin came close, dropping down until our eyes were level. He brushed his thumb across my scar and murmured, “Tempting. Should I?”

The rider cleared his throat as I glared.

Sarkin rose. He gestured to the far corner of the garden, to the small structure I’d seen tucked along the stone of the mountain.

“Your accommodations, princess,” he said. “Enjoy the bed while you can. We leave at dawn, and we’ll be staying in wild territory. Just like your hordes and Vorakkar of old.”

“If you think that scares me, you’re sorely mistaken. I grew up in a horde,” I said, my chin raising. “On the wildlands of Dakkar.”

“But you’ve never seen wildlands like these,” he said quietly, studying me as if surprised by the discovery. Softly, like a lover, he murmured, “That I promise you.”

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Chapter 10KLARA

I was surprised that Sarkin left me on my own, though I shouldn’t have been. According to him, Zaridan had my scent. She could find me anywhere. And I believed that. I was trapped without the bars of a dungeon, held tethered and leashed by his dragon.

Not that I had anywhere else to go. I’d agreed to this. And on the journey to Sarroth, I’d vowed to myself that I would take advantage of this surreal situation, to learn whatever I could about the Karag, to learn about the Elthika, and to learn about my purpose here.

Because I had a purpose here. Sarkin had made that clear. But I wasn’t going to explore that purpose for him. It was only for me. To answer the questions I’d had for years. To understand the strange stories my mother had whispered about for my entire life.

Something greater was happening now. I was no longer in control of my own fate, and I accepted that.

When I stepped inside the small structure, I saw that it was clean, if spartan. Perhaps it had belonged to a groundskeeper…whoever had once tended to the overgrown garden swallowing it up.

The inside comprised of a simple room with a raised bed—just like in the Dothikkar’s palace, though I preferred a nest of furs on the floor like in the hordes—a high table, chairs, and a stone hearth on the opposite side. There was a room off the back wall, and when I inspected that, I saw it was a washroom with a sunken-in bathing pool flush with the floor. It was steaming, already filled with water. I’d never seen one so large.

Immediately I stripped off, lowering my satchel to the ground gently. The walls in here were a black stone, so polished that I could see my reflection in them. I saw dark bruises across my flesh. Around my shoulders where the satchel had dug into them, the force and velocity of dragon flight punishing. Bruises in my abdomen from where I’d hunched over the harness, a round metal knob pressing into it. My palms were raw and blistered. Between my thighs, the skin was so hot to the touch, chafed and irritated.

My whole body hurt, and when I stepped down into the steaming pool, I nearly screamed as the water met my wounds. But after the initial searing pain passed, I breathed out a sigh of relief, the heat beginning to loosen my sore muscles.

It was only morning, and yet I felt like I could sleep away the day and night. My eyelids began to droop, my neck lolling back.

When I woke, my skin was puckered and pruned, but I was still so incredibly tired. I crawled from the bath, blotting at my wet skin with a black cloth I found, and managed to stumble to the bed. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, bright and merciless, and I collapsed onto the thin blankets.

It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but that didn’t stop my eyes from sliding shut. As the cool air drifted over my drying skin, I thought, briefly, it felt like a calming touch. It felt nice.

I slept.

The forest floor was glowing. It looked like an iridescent mist was sweeping and swirling across the ground, but when I crouched and pressed my fingers into the earth, it was cool and damp. The sounds of the forest were hushed. There was a reverent quiet here, a divine peace. I scarcely dared to breathe in fear I would disrupt the balance.

Trees surrounded me, towering canopies dripping with white leaves threaded with blue veins. The tree trunks were thick, as wide and immovable as the gold statues that dotted Dothik. Above me, the sky was dark, and I knew this was a dream.

Only it felt different. It felt real. I’d always been aware when I’d been dreaming. I’d always been aware of what was happening in the moment, but I’d never experienced this.

It felt like I’d been dropped inside a forest. I touched my skin, realized it was still bare from my bath. I was naked in a dark forest, but I no longer felt the stiffness and soreness from riding on Zaridan. I felt no pain at all.

When I smoothed my hand over the trunk of a nearby tree, it scraped against my palm, the texture rough.

Wake up, I thought, suddenly alarmed. Because this was too intense. I’d only ever seen snippets of places in my visions. They’d always been blurred at the edges, never clear. They’d been manageable that way because a part of me could always write them off as imagination.

This was different. When I breathed, I could smell the decay of leaves and the earthiness of the damp soil. My nipples puckered tightly when a stray breeze funneled through the trees, and I suppressed a shiver, rubbing at my arms.

There was a bright spot just below my feet, glowing underneath the topsoil. I crouched down, my heart booming in my chest like a horde drum.

I began to dig, my fingernails scraping at the earth, the fragrance of the dirt hitting my nostrils. Deeper and deeper I dug until⁠—

The glow of a heartstone, the biggest I’d ever seen or researched, illuminated a horned beetle I’d uncovered, which immediately wiggled its way back into the wall of soil, disappearing.

A soft exhale left me, and I reached down to smooth my fingertips over the heartstone. It was rooted into place. I realized it was attached to the roots of the tree. Like fruit on a vine. The roots were pulsing with light, giving energy to the heartstone, giving it life.

The tree?

Dazed, I stood, tilting my head back to inspect it carefully. Why was it so familiar? I’d seen it before, hadn’t I? But what I couldn’t determine was if it’d been in a dream or not. Had I been here before?

A headache bloomed behind my left eye, and I hissed, pressing my fingers to my brow bone hard.

Overhead, I heard the unmistakable wings of an Elthika, and my neck snapped back, my throat exposed as I scanned the sky through the thick canopies. Zaridan?

No, I thought, seeing the familiar flash of silver scales. It was him.

“Wait!” I cried out, sudden desperation pushing me into a sprint, following it. My feet dug into the soft soil, slipping on slick leaves, and I nearly stumbled over thick, exposed roots. “Please! Thryn’ar…esh lyiss!”

It was the only Karag I could remember, and I had no idea what it meant. But maybe⁠—

The dragon roared but never stopped. My heart throbbed in time with the pounding of my feet, and I tried to keep track of the dragon overhead, narrowly running into a wide tree and dodging it at the last moment.

“Wait!”

I needed to know why I’d been seeing this dragon in my dreams for decades. It had to mean something, just like seeing Zaridan.

The forest gave way to an open cliffside. Beyond that was endless ocean, glittering in the moonlight, and I felt a flash of despair in my chest as I watched the silver-scaled dragon fly farther and farther away. Out of my reach. Again.

Before I reached the cliff, I heard, “Klara!”

All at once, the dream ended abruptly, falling away like a veil.

Wind was whipping my hair and exposed skin, cold and icy, the pain of my body returning in a dizzying rush. Below me was an endless drop down to Sarroth. It was pitch black, save for a sliver of a crescent moon overhead⁠—

“What are you doing?” Sarkin’s roar came from behind me. “Wake up, Klara!”

I gasped, feeling my feet slip on the edge of a cliff when I turned to the voice. For one breathless moment, I met Sarkin’s wild gaze as he sprinted to reach me…

But then I was tumbling over the edge.

My scream was silent as I scrambled violently, thrashing my limbs and arms, trying to find purchase on anything. I managed to grip the ledge of a rock, my palm splitting over a rough edge, accompanied by a piercing stab at my side.

Animal sounds escaped me, terror making me gasp, trying to find air.

A dragon’s roar reverberated against the mountain, and I felt the rush of wind. Zaridan?

Sarkin’s appeared, reaching down for my hand.

“Take it!” he demanded.

But my bloodied grip was slippery. I felt it slide.

“Klara!”

Then I was falling.

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Chapter 11SARKIN

I didn’t hesitate. Hesitation got someone killed more times than not. And I wouldn’t allow Klara to be one of them.

I dove off the cliff after her. I trusted in Zaridan’s positioning, but Klara wasn’t skilled enough to be able to mount an Elthika in midair. It was a maneuver that took new riders years to master, and dozens had died in the process.

The drop down the cliffside to the base of the mountain wasn’t long, and I didn’t have much time to catch her. She was flailing in midair, a silent scream on her lips. I tightened my limbs close to my body to increase my speed, and when I was close enough, I saw the wild panic in her eyes.

Our bodies crashed into one another’s, and she scrambled to hold me. I gripped her so tightly that nothing would be able to pry her away, not even death.

“Brace,” I shouted, seeing Zaridan out of the corner of my eye, trying to match our speed as best as she could before beginning to angle underneath us.

She swooped. I held my breath, tightening my thighs.

And when we landed on her back, we landed hard. I acted quickly, moving Klara into place. She was gasping, the breath had gotten knocked out of her, but I kept her pressed down on Zaridan’s back, locking my legs around her body and snagging the tethers.

I didn’t allow myself to feel relief until Zaridan guided us back to the citadel landing. She extended her wing, and I snagged Klara’s waist, feeling her tremble uncontrollably as I got us back onto solid ground.

The anger rose, hot and bright, but I kept it masked, especially when I saw the wetness of her cheeks.

“Fool,” I rasped, but I didn’t think the harsh word was directed at her. She was completely naked, but I swept her up into my arms because I knew she would collapse if she tried to walk. Her hand was bloody and a long gash was along her right abdomen.

I strode into the citadel, quiet and dark at this time of night. Marching up the left staircase, I took us to the highest floor, my private wing, and kicked open the door to my quarters.

The blue fire was still burning in the hearth. I sat her on the table, disentangling her hands where she held me tight.

“I need to get bandages,” I informed her.

“For what?” she whispered, her eyes wide and glassy. She was in shock.

“For your wounds,” I replied, trying to keep my voice gentle. Her blood was red. Not black. Like human blood? I didn’t know why that fact fascinated me.

“I was dreaming,” she said quietly. “I never…I never saw the edge.”

“I know,” I said, restlessness eating away inside my chest. I left to retrieve a healing pack from my washroom.

With my newfound privacy, I let out a deep, rattling breath, striking the wall repeatedly with one of my fists until the dull ache of it helped to calm the maelstrom in my chest. The bones throbbed. I never should have left her alone. It had been an oversight. One that had almost gotten her killed. My pride had almost cost her her life.

And I wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Despite the desire to keep her at arm’s length, she was my responsibility. And the moment we sealed the bond in the Arsadia, she would be my damned wife.

The fear in her eyes when she’d tumbled over the edge…I would never be able to shake that. It was my punishment. It was forever imprinted in my mind, like so many terrible, unshakeable memories. Like Haden getting thrown off his Elthika, rejected after the first flight. Like Tyzar’s mournful roar when my father had sent him away. Like Kyavor with his grim expression as he’d told me my parents were dead.

When I returned to Klara, I observed her sitting on the edge of the table, and my guilt only tripled. Her body was bruised not only from the fall but from riding. I’d pushed her too hard coming here. I’d been a young rider myself once, long ago. I remembered the pain so intense I couldn’t sleep no matter how exhausted I was. I remembered the brokenness.

This wasn’t me. Where was the honor in punishing her like this? And was that what I’d been doing? Punishing her for a decision I had made?

When I stepped up to her once more, I cupped her face in my palms, forcing her to meet my eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked softly.

To my surprise, she nodded. “Yes.”

She’d seemed to have calmed when I’d been retrieving the kit, whereas my restlessness had only amplified.

“Do you have a blanket?” she asked.

My gaze trailed down her body. It was no time to admire her curved lines, the fullness of her breasts, and her soft belly and hips…but I would’ve had to be blind or dead not to.

“Let me tend to this first,” I informed her, controlling my physical reaction to her. It had been much too long since I’d had a female underneath me, I decided. She was soft and warm. She smelled like naro blossoms on a hot harvest day, and I gritted my teeth, swallowing down the sudden need I felt. I wasn’t surprised by my reaction. Adrenaline and frustration were often coupled with lust. But finding this maddening Dakkari princess beautiful was entirely inconvenient. It would pose its own set of problems.

The gash along her side wasn’t too deep, but she didn’t even hiss when I cleaned it with a cloth.

“Why are you naked?” I rasped.

I caught a flush of redness of her cheeks. Fascinating.

“I was too tired after my bath. I went right to bed,” she answered. Her arm came up to shield her breasts, the other falling in her lap. She had no hair between her thighs, and my nostrils flared. I forced my gaze away. “Why are you?”

That brought out a small huff from me. When I looked down, I saw that I was, indeed, naked. I’d forgotten. Which made my half-hard cock all the more alarming.

“I was asleep,” I answered, watching the way her eyes flickered everywhere but me. “Does it bother you?”

She didn’t answer. Perhaps the Dakkari were shy about such things, whereas the Karag were not. I had to remember that my new bride was not of my kind. We couldn’t be more different.

I stepped away, snagging blankets off the bed. One I tied around my waist in a neat knot. The other I handed to her, which she spread over her lap quickly. I watched as her long, graceful fingers caressed the soft fur, and I cleared my throat, hunching down to inspect the gash above her ribs.

Once it was clean, I applied salve and a clean bandage. I’d patched up my own wounds more times than I could count, so I worked quickly. When I finished, she wrapped the blanket more tightly around her body, and I took her bloodied palm in mine, blotting it.

It was quiet between us, the energy in the room charged.

“Heartstones are like seeds, aren’t they?” she asked softly. I paused, casting a long, assessing look at her. Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “Or maybe not like seeds. More like…fruit of a tree.”

“They are both,” I murmured. “They used to grow in a place called the Arsadia. Heartstones were planted to grow thalara trees. And then the trees created more heartstones at their root systems.”

“Used to grow?” she asked, catching my misstep. “They don’t now?”

My jaw tightened.

“Is that what you dreamed?” I asked. “Is that what you saw?”

Our faces were close. I could see golden strands in her very human eyes.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Where?”

“How would I know that?” she said. “Besides, it wasn’t so much a location as a realization. I was being shown. I’ve seen the trees before though. At least…I think I have.”

“The thalara tree,” I told her, stilling. “You’ve seen it in Dakkar?”

“If you call my homeland Dakkar, I wonder what you call the entirety of this planet.”

“Easy. Thikana,” I replied. “And our nation is Karak.”

She sighed. “We call our planet Dakkar. You call it Thikana. Who is right?”

“Does it matter?” I wondered. “It might only matter to off-worlders.”

“You’ve kept to your side of the world and we’ve kept to ours,” she said. “But no longer. We can speak the same language. We seek the same thing. And right now, I can touch your skin and feel that connection with you when before it hadn’t been possible.”

My heart jolted when her fingers pressed to my inner wrist. I hissed out a short, surprised breath, finding the touch maddeningly sensual. Her voice was husky and soft. Mesmerizing.

“So when our two nations collide, when our two cultures become intertwined, what would we call our planet then?”

I met her quizzical gaze.

“Thikana,” I answered finally.

She chuckled, the sound beautiful and musical. I didn’t join her, however, and her laugh slowly died.

“I see,” she said, but her tone struck me as sad when she saw I was serious. “No room for negotiation with you?”

“History will tell you, aralye,” I said, spreading cool salve over her cleaned palm, the jar clinking when I replaced the cap, “that the dominant race creates legacy.”

“You are a dominant race because of your Elthika,” she pointed out.

“And why do you think the planet is called Thikana, then? And not Karak?” I questioned.

Her lips pressed together.

“No Karag will ever deny the part the Elthika have played in our good fortune,” I told her. I tipped up her chin so she met my eyes. “But no other race has bonded with the Elthika like the Karag have. No other race has dared to try. Does that not deserve your respect, now that you have been on the back of Zaridan? Now that you have seen her capabilities firsthand and felt the humbling awe of your own fear entwined with her might?”

“Are you fearful every time you fly with her, then?” she asked. Clever girl. “Even after all this time?”

“Of course I am,” I said. Surprise flitted over her face, as if struck that I’d admit to it. What she didn’t understand was that all riders would. “If you are not, you do not respect your Elthika. But you will learn that concept in time. Sarroth produces more riders for the Karag than any other of our nations. If you are to be the Sarrothian queen, you will learn that fear better than most. Your people will expect it of you…and they will never accept you otherwise.”

A soft exhale escaped her.

Tonight had proven what I’d needed to know. Tonight had proven why I’d trusted my instinct with Klara, why I’d made a split decision the moment I’d seen her scar—the bonding mark of my own Elthika, meant for me to see.

Tonight I’d woken in a strange state from a dead sleep, feeling a pressure at the base of my neck. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I knew it was Zaridan’s call, though I’d never felt anything like it before. That ability—that bond with an Elthika—had been long lost with the diminishing power of the heartstones. It might not be until the next generation, possibly even two, where riders would feel that connection again…and that was only if we were able to find more heartstones.

But I’d felt it tonight. I’d felt Zaridan’s restlessness, and it had driven me immediately from bed, sensing that something was wrong.

Zaridan had saved Klara’s life, not me.

Klara had been on Karak soil for no time at all, and already I felt a blooming connection with Zaridan that hadn’t been there before. Tonight had proved to me that this was the right choice. Despite what I wanted, Klara was an important piece in helping to restore Karak to what it had once been.

Zaridan knew that. Now I did too.

But it was my own oversight that had nearly cost Klara her life. What would we have lost if she’d fallen tonight?

“Do you often wander in your sleep?” I asked, my tone harsher than I expected. “Sarroth is an elevated city, especially the citadel.”

“Tonight was the first time,” she said, watching me wind a bandage around her palm. “Another reason to fear sleep, I suppose.”

The words were quiet. They made discomfort wiggle in my chest.

“No need to fear it anymore,” I said, blowing out a sharp breath.

“Why?”

I met her eyes before packing up the healing kit, pleased that her wounds were cleaned and tended to.

“From now on, you’ll sleep with me. I’ll tie you to me at night if I must,” I informed her. Her lips parted, a red, enticing flush coloring her cheeks. “Let’s rest now. Even after the events of tonight, we still leave for the Arsadia at dawn.”

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