Текст книги "The horde King of shadow"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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“We arrive to the Arsadia soon. We will seal this marriage, and I expect you to uphold your oaths to me, your husband,” I said. “Just as I will to you.”

Realization was dawning over her expression.

“Levanth and I were involved once. When we were young, not old enough to know better, and never since. But I trust her with my life, just as I do with all those in the kya’rassa—my rider horde,” I told her. “Believe me or not. That is for you to decide. But do not accuse me on a whim when you know nothing about what I value.”

Klara held my eyes. She must have heard some truth in my words because she said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“The Elthika,” I began, matter-of-factly, “mate for life, and so they choose carefully, if at all. They never stray from their bonded mates. It creates unnecessary division within a legacy. It is not romantic, Klara, so get that out of your mind. A mate bond is logical, bordering on cold, and it takes discipline. The Sarrothian believe what the Elthika believe, more than any other Karag might.”

Did I spy a flash of disappointment? “I didn’t know,” she said.

“Now you do,” I said simply, releasing her and stepping away.

I’d laid it out for her. I didn’t want her to think this would be a passionate, consuming union between us. Perhaps she had wanted a marriage like that. Perhaps she had wanted a love like in her precious history books, of the Vorakkar of old and their mates…but she wouldn’t find it with me. I wouldn’t allow that. Love was a distraction and nothing more.

Better to disappoint her now so she knows exactly what she’s committing to before the Arsadia, I reasoned.

“Anything else you wish to address?”

She rubbed at her forearm as a cool breeze made her shiver. “How…how do you expect your people to ever accept me?”

I inhaled a slow breath. I shouldn’t have been surprised by her oddly vulnerable question. My chest even gave a little twist, my instincts telling me to comfort her. I’d watched her get rejected by numerous Sarrothian tonight.

“Klara,” I said, waiting until she met my eyes. I spied sadness there. Loneliness. And it made even more discomfort wiggle in my chest. “Don’t get discouraged by the horde. And tonight…you handled it better than I expected.”

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “By slinking back to Zaridan?”

“Who presented you with her sy’asha for all the horde to hear,” I growled. She blinked and then looked over at my Elthika. “She honored you tonight, and she knew exactly what she was doing.”

“But why don’t you do that?” she asked. “If I’m to be your queen and you leave me so quickly to my own devices, as if you cannot wait to get away from me, what image does that present to the Sarrothian?”

“Klara,” I bit out. “The horde values strength. I’m doing you a favor, whether you see it or not. They need to see you stand on your own. They need to see that you are comfortable with Zaridan, that she respects you to obey your commands. And this is only the beginning.”

“You…you’ve been calculating out how they see me,” she realized softly. “You planned this. It was a test?”

“An opportunity,” I corrected. “I won’t lie to you. You are an outsider, a Dakkari—who no one will trust because they know you are not loyal to me or to the Sarrothian.”

She opened her mouth, her brow furrowed.

“It’s the truth,” I rasped. “Because given the choice, this very moment, would you not turn your back and return to your true home? If I promised to release you from a marriage and no harm would come to your people? Wouldn’t you wish to be back in Dothik by tomorrow? We could leave right now.”

“You don’t know what I would choose,” she argued softly, and I stilled at the surprising honesty I heard in her voice. “There are many reasons for me to be here, and some of them don’t concern you at all. Or your people.”

“That may be the case, but it proves my point. None of your reasons are out of loyalty.”

She didn’t answer, just raised her chin slightly, as if in challenge. And I felt the burn of her sass curl straight to my cock.

Much too long since I’ve had a female, I thought, irritated.

“Let them see your strength,” I rasped. “This rider season will be tough on you. But as queen to the Sarrothian, there is deep-seated expectation that you cannot ignore. And the first test will be your strength and your willpower. You’re much too small and weak to claim an Elthika of your own.”

She sputtered, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“But they will never accept you if you don’t, so…you will have to claim one regardless.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

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Chapter 14KLARA

“You need sleep,” Sarkin growled into my ear once I descended down Zaridan’s wing. I nearly cried in happiness when I stepped foot on the earth. Nearly fell to my knees too, every muscle in my body on the verge of giving out.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, though I felt the heaviness of my eyelids threaten to close.

“I told you—you don’t need to fear sleep. You think I’ll let you wander away again?” Sarkin argued. “I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

I believed him. And yet…I’d barely slept since the night I’d seen the heartstone forest in my dreams. We’d been traveling to the Arsadia for the last two days and nights. We’d stopped again last night, at the edge of a vast, wide lake that tumbled down into a waterfall. Even though we’d flown up to yet another cliffside for Zaridan’s sake, away from the camp, I couldn’t relax enough to rest and I’d been too exhausted to speak.

“I’ll be fine,” I informed him, my voice firm when I met his eyes. I’d been cranky too, irritation and anxiousness a constant companion today during our flight. I was tired of being hungry. I was tired of my body burning and aching with every step. I was tired of being tired.

For the foreseeable future, I wanted to stay in one place.

And it looked like I would finally get my wish as my eyes fastened on a horde spread out before us, vast and sprawling and on solid ground.

“Please tell me we’ll be here for a while,” I pleaded quietly, nearly stumbling into Sarkin when we took our first steps away from Zaridan. He frowned, reached out to steady me, and the heat of his hand felt so good against my back. Like a hot stone, loosening the soreness of my body.

“We will be here through the riding season,” he answered. “Yes.”

Relief and a twist of dread warred within me. Ever since I’d learned that I was actually expected to claim a dragon of my own, riding on the back of Zaridan had taken on a new trepidation. I’d begun to study other riders, sizing up their build and strength, only to realize that my future husband had been correct in his assessment…

I was small and weak compared to them. Perhaps I shouldn’t have spent so many years tucked into the quiet folds of the archives, where my only form of physical activity was walking the Spine of Dothik in the mornings and evening and pulling books and scrolls out from high places.

The Sarrothian were like the darukkars—the horde warriors—I’d grown up admiring. Only they held themselves in the strictest regard and were uncompromising in their work. Watching them interact among the camp, I saw they worked tirelessly and without complaint, even after long days on dragonback. I felt like a child compared to them, and I’d endeavored to hide my pain even more, to bite my tongue when I’d been on the verge of asking Sarkin for a reprieve.

I didn’t want them to think me weak. I couldn’t allow that.

Before my very eyes, I saw a horde. Only it was in a much different place, on an entirely different continent. And considering we’d crossed over another ocean today to reach the Arsadia, I wondered if I’d just stepped foot onto the third continent of my life. How many Dakkari back home could say that? None that I knew of, despite the mystery of the hordes along Sarroth’s coast long ago.

It might’ve been a horde, but it was a Karag horde and there were very stark differences to that of a Dakkari one.

“This is a permanent outpost,” I noted, realization hitting me when I saw structures that resembled the stone solikis in the Dakkari outposts, the permanent villages spread across the wildlands.

“Lysi,” he rasped, and my lips parted as our eyes met. Lysi meant yes in the Dakkari language. It was an odd sensation, hearing that word here, hearing it fall from his lips…but I liked it. It felt comforting, even if it only highlighted how far away from home I truly was. “The mountain village. We call it Rysar—the Sarrothian outpost in the Arsadia.”

“Rysar,” I repeated softly.

Unlike the domed tentlike structures called volikis in a Dakkari horde, here there were taller structures, made of a dark gray-blue textured stone that had marble streaks of black running through it like a river, glittering in the lowering sun. Not unlike the little home that was nestled in the wild gardens behind Sarkin’s citadel in Sarroth.

Some of the stone buildings even had carvings in them like the citadel’s, depictions of elaborate Elthika and Karag alike. Some homes were flat to the earth, others raised slightly depending on the elevation of the land, the entrances of which could be accessed by winding staircases.

In the distance, behind the horde was a tall mountain, much like in Sarroth. The top of which I couldn’t even see because it disappeared in the cloud covering. A gentle mist was floating, the air damp and alive here, which likely accounted for all the dark blue and green moss I spied.

To the east, I saw a circular building, taller and larger than any other here. To the west, I saw what I thought were training grounds, a vast section of the forest cleared away. Many of the riders’ Elthika were perched there, resting after the long journey. Others had already flown up into the mountain or had flown north, swooping in the sky as if pleased to be home.

Flying over the Arsadia, which was what the Karag called the Elthika’s homeland, I saw that it was a lush and vibrant place. Sarroth had been covered in deep, dark forests and mountainous valleys that gave way to rivers flowing out toward lakes and coastlines. As we flew farther north, the landscape had shifted subtly. There were open plains or vast hilly country surrounded by some of the tallest mountains I’d ever seen in my lifetime.

And here in the Arsadia? It was covered in forested land, but there were also open plains we’d flown over. At the base of this mountain, it was almost like the Trikki back home. A lush rainforest, giving way to tumbling waterfalls and vibrant life.

I couldn’t see the waterfall, but I heard it—the sound of rushing water violent and powerful. I wondered if that was why the air was so damp.

It smells good here, I thought. Wild and fresh and alive.

“This is a saruk,” I noted softly, peering up at Sarkin after I’d observed all that I could from this vantage point. “Perhaps we are not so different after all.”

“Perhaps.”

“People live here permanently?” I questioned, confused about that small detail, but it was obvious that Rysar was inhabited year-round. People milled about, welcoming the rider horde like they were old friends, helping them with their supplies. One of the novice riders, who was friends with Sammenth, went up to someone I thought might be his mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek before embracing her hard.

My heart twisted, longing going through me at the beautiful sight they made.

“Yes,” Sarkin said. “I live here nearly half the year. For the rider season and the mating season.”

I stilled and asked carefully, “The mating season?”

Sarkin leveled me a hard look. “For the Elthika.” He waved his hand to the east of the horde. “The hatchery.”

Amazement shot through me, momentarily making me forget about the pain in my body and the way I was attracting the attention and whispers of the horde as we passed by. A millions questions bubbled up in my mind.

“Ah, ah, aralye,” Sarkin said, surprising me, his hand still on my back, guiding me down a stone pathway. Was my curiosity so evident? “My priority is not to answer your questions this night. It is to get your wounds checked and get you rested, so I can attend to my saruk, as you call it.”

“I don’t have any wounds,” I lied.

He snorted with derision. “You forget so easily that I was once a new rider myself.”

“I’m not a rider,” I said quickly, a large part of me still rejecting the idea of what was expected of me.

“Yet you will be, Klara. Your instruction begins in the morning, which is why you need to sleep tonight.”

I sucked in a deep breath as we started up an incline. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am deadly serious,” he replied, cutting me a sharp look. “And I never say anything in jest when it comes to the Elthika. You’d best remember that.”

“Can I not have one day to rest, Sarkin?” I asked, stopping in the middle of the pathway when the muscles in my legs tightened so painfully that they began to spasm. I clenched my jaw. “Please,” I whispered, so onlookers wouldn’t hear my pleading.

Sarkin studied my features, those colorful eyes flitting back and forth. I wondered what he was looking for.

Finally he nodded. “Very well. One day of rest. Instead of your instruction beginning tomorrow, we will go seal our marriage bond in the temple of Lishara.”

My eyes widened. “Is there a rush to do that so soon?”

I would be married tomorrow?

Sarkin shrugged. “And I ask you, why wait? I want this done. I have an oath myself to Elysom that I am eager to see through.”

I remembered him mentioning that to his aunt. Something about mysar commands, whatever that meant. Elysom, I knew, seemed to be the governing body of the Karag, and his aunt was on the council.

“My mind is made up, and it will not change,” he added, his voice lowering as our eyes held. “I have chosen you as my wife, Klara. Waiting will not change that.”

My heart gave a frantic skip, my lips parting. The shock of hearing those words…they pleased a primal part of me I’d never known I’d needed calmed to begin with.

But, with the exception of my mother and Dannik, I had never been chosen by anyone. Even my own blood. My half sisters, my father…they had all turned their backs on me at the urging of my stepmother, and I had felt their rejection and sting for years. In Dothik, I had never felt like enough. For any of them. I’d been a disappointment. A painful reminder.

So to hear Sarkin say that he had chosen me and that it would not change…those words filled a desperate, gaping ache in me, one I hadn’t realized was an incredible, lonely void.

“Lysi?” he questioned softly, tipping my chin up with his calloused index finger.

I blinked, reality returning in a rush. I’d been staring at his exposed neck, tracking small scars there, as I processed his words.

“Lysi,” I whispered.

He nodded, pleased, though my thoughts raced. Before last week, I had never given much thought to marriage. I had filled my days with the pursuit of research and knowledge, to try to better understand my dreams and my mother’s own stories. I had always had an obsession with the dragon riders from across Drukkar’s Sea, ever since I’d seen one fly over Dothik when I’d been only twelve.

In the span of a week, my life had altered and shifted so drastically that it was hardly believable.

“What is it?” Sarkin grunted, urging me into a walk once more.

“This time last week, I was…” I took in a deep breath. “I was walking home in Dothik after a day in the archives trying to understand this. This place. Your people. What it all meant. I’ve given over a decade of my life trying to make sense of this. And I’m beginning to realize that it might have been a waste. Because I don’t understand anything at all.”

I’m wholly unprepared for this, and that frightens me, I thought, but I left that thought unspoken.

“But you will,” Sarkin said. An easy answer to a complicated worry.

Tears ushered into my eyes, but I tried to blink them away quickly, lowering my head as we passed a group of onlookers. Sarkin nodded at them when they called out a greeting. After we passed, I looked up, noticing that we were heading toward the back of the horde, toward a structure that I knew must’ve been Sarkin’s home here, given the intricate carvings on the facade. It was small, but it was overlooking the entirety of the horde, perched on a small hill, the pathway leading up a gentle incline.

My muscles screamed in protest as I walked up. But when we reached the top, I couldn’t help but turn. The sun was setting over the forest, and my lips parted in disbelief. I saw what I hadn’t been able to see over the structures of the horde or the forest beyond.

We were high up. The Arsadia, it seemed, had dramatic changes in elevation. Now I saw the waterfall. I saw the thick white plume of water billow next to the east of the forest and not far from what Sarkin had called the hatchery. Water from the mountain was running down toward the horde, where it pooled into a wide, sparkling river before rushing down a steep drop, into the depths of the forest below. While the forest that surrounded the horde was at our elevation, I saw vast wilderness stretch out beyond us in deep valleys as far as I could see.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. In the distance, I saw mountain ranges, wild Elthika making dark figures in the sky, miles and miles away. I knew we weren’t far from the coast, but I couldn’t see it from this vantage point.

And it would be my new home.

Footsteps clattered on the pathway, and when I turned my gaze forward, I saw an unfamiliar male waiting for Sarkin’s permission to approach. He was tall and broad, his arms crossed behind his back. Not a rider, though, because I saw the sway of his tail behind him. But a warrior perhaps? His build was certainly similar to one.

“Go inside and rest,” Sarkin ordered me. “There’s hot water for a bath. I’ll send someone with food and to look over your wounds. Then I want you to sleep afterward—no questions tonight. Do you understand?”

His tone set my back straightening. “I’m not a child.”

His lips curled slightly in a humorless smirk, one that made my belly flutter and dip, which was quite quizzical and maddening.

“Syndras will watch over this entrance, so don’t fear sleep tonight,” Sarkin replied, nodding at the Sarrothian, who inclined his head at me, though his eyes were narrowed, curious.

“Where will you be?”

“There is always much to be done when we return to the Arsadia,” Sarkin told me. “I likely won’t return tonight. I’ll collect you in the morning.”

And with that, he turned his back, passing Syndras briefly, his head bending low to say something I couldn’t hear.

He didn’t turn back once.

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Chapter 15KLARA

It’s every bit as stark and cold as I thought it might be, I thought, sighing, gazing around Sarkin’s Arsadian residence with a critical eye as I soaked in the hot bath.

The home had a familiar layout as the one outside the citadel. A raised bed with no fur coverings in sight. A round table with bench seating, similar to the taverns in Dothik, but this one was made of a shimmering material that resembled dragon scales.

There was a tall black cabinet opposite the bed, and I knew, from my first inspection, it held clothing and nothing else.

The washing area was at the very back of the home and only separated by a sheer gossamer curtain, which seemed utterly useless. The washing tub was sunken into the ground and the most opulent thing in the home. It had running water, for one, no doubt due to the waterfall so close in proximity, but what amazed me was that the water rushed out hot from the metal pipes. Once I’d stepped into the bath, after the first initial sting of pain as hot water had met my chafed, inflamed skin, I’d sighed happily. I never wanted to leave the confines of the bath again.

I leaned my head back over the edge, sitting on the submerged ledge that ran along the inside, and closed my eyes. I must’ve dozed off because the next thing I knew, there was a loud creaking from the front metal door and a stranger’s voice filling the room.

I gave a little shriek of surprise when I saw an unknown female enter.

“What—what…who are you?” I stuttered, slinking down underneath the bath water, my heart thundering in surprise.

“I apologize,” the female said, though her tone was bright, no remorse heard. “I didn’t mean to startle you awake, though I am glad I did. It is incredibly dangerous to fall asleep during baths, or has no one ever told you that?”

I blinked, watching as she set down a tray of hot food, opening the various dishes’ lids with a flourish, as if expecting me to be impressed.

When she looked at me expectantly, I cleared my throat and said, “That looks…delicious,” though I couldn’t see it all from this angle.

“Come and eat,” she ordered, patting the bench chair as she pulled out something else from the black satchel looped over her shoulder. “I am your food delivery and your healer tonight. You can call me Ryena.”

My heart was returning to its normal pace. Right. Sarkin had said he’d send someone.

“Ryena,” I repeated, thinking she looked familiar but not able to place her face. She hadn’t traveled with the rider horde, had she? No, I decided a moment later, observing her clothes. They were loose fitting, made of soft hides and breathable fabrics. Her boots had mud caking the very tips—at least I hoped it was mud.

She nodded. “I am one of two healers here in the village, though my specialty is hatchlings and not future queens.”

She laughed at her own joke, but it died when I didn’t join her.

“Hatchlings?” I asked under my breath, brow furrowing.

“Unfortunately for you, our other healer is currently stitching up the leg of a young boy who thought it would be a good idea to try to jump off the waterfall, at the daring of his friends,” Ryena explained. “What are you still doing in the bath? Come, come. Eat, so I can get some medicine applied to your rider burn.”

Despite her being a stranger, there was a no-nonsense and urgent tone in her voice that had me obeying. I stood, water rushing off me as I climbed out of the bath, wincing as cool air rushed over my skin.

“You poor thing,” she tsked, eyeing my bruises and inflamed skin. “That is why you will never catch me on the back of an Elthika if I can help it. I like my feet firmly planted to the earth, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, a sharp breath exhaling from me when she dug into her satchel once more. I watched as she pulled out a jar of pink-colored paste and a thick roll of what I thought were bandages. My injuries from my cliff fall were still healing, the skin puckered after my soak. “But I thought many Karag preferred to be riders.”

“I never understood the appeal,” she confessed, “though I am a minority in that feeling. My sister, on the other hand, very much ascribes to it.”

It hit me then, why she looked familiar.

“You’re Sammenth’s sister,” I said, pulling a thin cloth around my body to dry it as I padded toward the table. She looked at me in delighted surprise. “I thought you looked familiar, and I couldn’t place why.”

“We share a father,” Ryena told me.

“So you’re…you’re Dakkari?” I asked. Or at least part Dakkari, I thought.

“Through our father, yes, though even his line has been mixed with Sarrothian blood,” she replied. “There are still a couple Dakkari villages along the outer borders of the South, much to Elysom’s annoyance. They keep to themselves for the most part, but they are there if you know where to look.”

“I still can’t believe there have been Dakkari here, all these years, on your shores,” I confessed, my legs giving out underneath me with the weight of that knowledge after the day I’d had. Luckily I was close enough to the bench that it caught my fall. Ryena rounded toward me, wielding that strong-smelling jar of salve. “Everything we know…everything we thought we knew about the world has been completely challenged by your people.”

“I imagine it would’ve been quite the shock, seeing those first few Elthika,” she gave me. “I grew up in a Dakkari village with my sister, and there aren’t many wild Elthika down there. I remember my first time seeing one, I nearly wet myself.” I laughed in surprise, in the dry delivery of those words. “And then it’s even more frightening when you see one up close.”

Ryena raised her eyes—red eyes, Dakkari eyes—to my face. I watched her pupils track over my scar, and her lips pulled slightly. “The rumors are true, then. You really do bear the mark of Muron.”

I still didn’t quite know what that meant, but all I could do was sit still as Ryena tugged the cloth away, baring my naked body. The bruising was purple today, and between my thighs, it was a raw mess. Even Ryena winced.

“Did the Karath see this?” she asked.

My cheeks flamed. “Of course not.”

When he’d patched me up the night I’d fallen off the cliff, my thighs had been firmly shut.

“You best be careful,” she warned. “We don’t need this infected, especially since your instruction is beginning soon. The salve will help a lot though. One of my own making when Sammenth was going through the beginnings of her rider training. She said it was the only thing that helped her heal quickly,” she told me, pride in her tone.

I smiled. Both the sisters, I noticed, had an openness about them, a kindness that I hadn’t quite found in any of the other Karag I’d come in contact with in the last few days.

“These will heal fine though,” Ryena told me, cocking her head and applying gentle pressure to the lacerations across my ribcage. She held out the jar. “You want to do the honors?”

I nodded, taking it from her gratefully.

“Keep it,” she told me. “Put some more on in the morning too. I’ll speak to the Karath about getting you more protective clothing for riding.” She picked up my hide trews, poking her finger through the hole the friction had made. “These obviously won’t do. He should know better…but the Karag believe that the quicker the skin thickens up on the inner thighs, the easier it will be for a rider. Pain now, relief later, or so they say. It sounds better spoken in Karag.”

I swallowed as I dabbed my finger into the salve before spreading it on my inner thighs. I hissed at the sting, but it slowly gave way to a pleasant, numbing warmth.

“They’re not wrong, I suppose,” Ryena continued, getting the bandages unraveled. “The skin will toughen with repeated trauma and irritation. Not that I agree with the method.”

I listened to her voice, finding it a much needed distraction as I spread the stinging paste…though when I got all the skin covered, only a couple breaths went by and then I was blissfully numb. The skin didn’t throb. The pain melted away.

“Thank you,” I breathed, closing my eyes in relief.

Ryena looked at me. “You should tell him next time. You should not have to withstand this. There is no pride in pain.”

For the Sarrothian, that very much seems to be the case, I couldn’t help but think.

I helped her wrap my inner thighs with the thick swaths of clean bandage. Once they were covered, she urged me to eat, though I was too tired to properly be able to appreciate it. She set out yet another jar of the paste for me, leveling me a look that said, You’ll need this—trust me.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow, but otherwise, rest. Sleep well, Klara.”

“Kakkira vor, Kerisa,” I said quietly. Dakkari for Thank you, Healer.

She paused at the threshold of the door, giving me a knowing smile. She nodded.

“Veekor,” she ordered back to me. In Dakkari, it meant sleep.

With that she left.

Once I’d eaten, with my wounds tended to and my body clean, I found a fresh tunic from Sarkin’s cabinet, which ended at my knees, and then pulled the thin blanket off the bed. I curled up on the hard floor to sleep.

And for once, I dreamed of nothing.

I was woken by hands and an angry-looking Sarkin, his face illuminated by the hearth I definitely hadn’t lit, a flickering fire that changed colors—from blue to gold to purple.

I tensed when he pulled open my thighs, and I kicked out at him. “What are you doing?” I exclaimed groggily.

He held them open, my tunic shoved up to my stomach, his calloused hands on my calves. He whispered a curse under his breath, and I looked between my thighs, saw the bandages had already bloodied through the night.

Sarkin unwound them, and when I tried to fight him, he growled, “Faryn.”

I stilled immediately, a primal part of me obeying whatever it was I heard in that tone. I recognized that word. It was the word that had made Zaridan pull back her ethrall on the wildlands outside Dothik.

I assumed, now, it meant stop or cease.

“I found blood on Zaridan’s harness. Dried red blood,” he growled. “Then Ryena came to tell me. So why didn’t you?”

When the bandages fell away and he saw the red streaks, angry and chafed, he whispered out a rough curse, sliding back to lean against one of the stabilizing poles at the foot of the bed, one long leg stretched out in front of him.

“Do you think me such a monster than I wanted you to suffer through this?” he asked, angrier than I’d ever seen him as he glared.

His head leaned back against the pole, and he blew out a rough breath before bringing his hands up to rub at his tired, no doubt wind-stung eyes.

“I didn’t want you—or your riders—to think I was weak,” I mumbled, coming fully awake.

When his eyes crashed to mine, I realized that I was sprawled out on the floor, half-naked, with my legs spread wide. I struggled to sit up and close them.

“Don’t,” he rasped. “We should reapply the salve anyway. It’s been a few hours.”

He dragged his body up, graceful and strong, crossing to the table and snatching one of the jars off. He was uncapping it as he returned, crouching in front of me.

“I’ll do it,” I said quickly, embarrassed.

He only growled. It was a warning, making me bite my tongue. I’d never seen him like this. I was used to him being in control, bordering on stoic and cold.

“Open, Klara,” he commanded, and I didn’t dare disobey him.

With a loud swallow, I slid my legs apart, turning my head to the side as he slid the paste across the skin. The numbness had worn off, the flesh sensitive again, and I sucked in a breath. His touch never paused. It was methodical and careful. Even…gentle, which I hadn’t expected.