What the fuck?
“What?” I whispered, his finger slid out then thrust right back in.
“Kah Lahnahsahna,” he growled.
“Kah… uh, Lahnahsahna,” I whispered, taking a stab at what he was demanding from me.
He glared down at me.
Jeez, what did I do?
Then his hand slid from between my legs, trailing his and my wetness up my belly, it cupped my breast forcefully, the pads of his fingers digging in then they tweaked my nipple so hard my body jerked (and not, I had to admit, in an entirely bad way) before his torso twisted. His mouth captured my other nipple, he sucked in hard and that, also, made my body jerk in a definitely not bad way.
Then his face was in mine, his lips a breath away, his eyes all I could see and they were burning with a different light, one that made me catch my breath as his hand went back between my legs and his finger thrust back into me.
“Lahnahsahna Circe lapoo meera kah liros anah,” he declared forcefully and I blinked.
“Uh… okay,” I whispered, thinking maybe agreement was the best way to go and he continued to stare in my eyes.
Then the fire died out of his eyes, he whispered back, “Okay,” his finger glided gently over my clit, my body jerked, lightly this time as his hand trailed up to my belly at the same time his eyes disappeared because his head moved so his tongue could glide across my throat.
Then without looking at me, he exited the bed.
I watched his naked body move toward the flaps.
Okay. What was that all about?
He slapped open one of the flaps, again totally not heeding his nudity and he barked something through them. Then he moved away from them, not looking at me in the bed, and he prowled to the trunks at the corner.
The flaps went back and in came Teetru followed by Packa, both of them carrying big, earthenware jugs. I quickly reached down and pulled the sheet up to hide my nakedness (not that they hadn’t seen it, repeatedly) as Lahn moved away from the trunks and threw a new pair of hides on the ground. He yanked the jug out of Teetru’s hands and tipped it over his head, the water splashing all over the rugs and all over his new hides. He used his big hand to swipe the water around his body then he jerked the jug back to Teetru. She took it, he yanked the one out of Packa’s hands and did the same. Then, without toweling off, he hauled up his new hides, tied the laces tight at the hips and prowled out of the tent, his eyes not coming to me once.
I stared at the flaps of the tent.
Okay, maybe I was wrong. Language and a killer freaking culture gab were standing between us but outside of that last bit, I thought Lahn and me got a few things straight last night and, um… this morning. We’d shared words (kind of), he’d grinned at me (of course, this was after I’d drawn blood but still, he did it), his touch had changed, he held me while we slept, his arm tightened around me while he slept and he put a fair amount of effort into giving me three really freaking great orgasms.
I guess I thought wrong.
Teetru came to the bed, bending over it, tugging at the sheet, speaking quietly to me but the edge of excitement in her voice made my eyes move from the tent flaps to her.
And I saw she was excited. Her eyes were shining with it. She was happy. Something good was happening and it wasn’t just me getting up and getting dressed.
“Please,” I whispered, reaching out and taking her hand, “get me Diandra.”
She looked in my eyes. Then she nodded. Then she turned her head and said something to Jacanda who was dragging in the tub. Jacanda looked at me, looked at Teetru, nodded, left the tub where it was and dashed out of the tent.
I fell down to my back and stared at the top of the tent.
“Another day in paradise,” I whispered, my voice sounding defeated.
This was because it was and that was because I was.
I allowed myself to feel this for approximately two minutes. Then I pulled my shit together and hauled myself out of the bed to face whatever next was to come at me that day.
* * * * *
The marketplace was a short ways away from the encampment, through a small stand of weird, thin, green stalked trees that looked a bit like bamboo but weren’t.
And the marketplace, unlike the encampment, was a fixture. There were tents but there were also buildings, not sturdy by a long shot but buildings nonetheless.
And they had, I discovered, everything for sale there. Everything.
Diandra, her pretty dark-haired, dark-almond-eyed, twelve year old daughter, Sheena (who spoke enough English to make herself understood in a broken and charming way, mostly because she spoke it smiling a sweet smile and giggling after practically every word) and I caused quite a sensation when we arrived.
And this sensation, I figured, was not entirely due to my new kickass outfit (ice blue, halter bikini top that hooked to a golden chain around my neck and was also fastened with a chain around my back, ice blue skirt with shafts of gold and hints of white and silver, wide belt made of gold and silver disks, no bands at my biceps but so many gold and silver, skinny bangles on my wrists it took Gaal five minutes to push them up my hands and they covered me from wrists to mid-forearm and tinkled every time I moved my arms (which was, I noted for the first time in my life, a lot), gold earrings, again chandelier but dripping with rough, seed pearls and pearl pins affixed to the coils, twists and braids in my hair everywhere).
The queen had come calling.
With a chatty Diandra and a giggling, smiling, brokenly chatty Sheena, I wandered the marketplace looking over the wares. Earthenware jugs, bowls and vases of all shapes and sizes. Bolts of materials of everything from burlap to silk in every color you could imagine. Dried, cured meats. Hard, salami type sausages. Cheeses. Vats of yogurt. Dried fruits. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Nuts, both with shells and without. Sacks of various grains. Pottery. Enameled bowls. Knives and spoons (no forks, I noted, as I noted none were at Lahn’s table) made of silver or pewter and even wood. Trinkets, bangles, chains and hair bobs. Yarn of every color. Thread of every color. Looms both big and small. Rugs, again, both big and small. Casks of wine. Candles.
You name it, they had it. The place was huge, it was bustling and from the horses (with rickety, primitive wagons and without) and what looked like oxen (not that I’d ever seen oxen, I was guessing) tied to basic wooden fences outside the marketplace, it wasn’t just there for whenever the Daxshee set up at the dais but it stood there always and people came from other places to purchase what they needed.
I was wandering and taking it all in but I was also in my head. This was because I was wondering about Diandra. She seemed kind. She seemed friendly. She seemed to want to be my friend, to want to help.
And I needed help.
Like, a lot of it.
I just didn’t know where to start.
“The whispers are fading, Dahksahna Circe,” she told me, lifting a bolt of silver fabric shot with crimson and violet.
I stopped fingering a heavy cream silk and looked at her. “Sorry?”
She turned to me and dropped her hand. “The whispers are fading.” Her grin turned wicked and knowing. “The warrior king and his warrior queen battled on last night, I hear.” She leaned in and raised her brows as I sucked in breath. “I also heard… he won.”
“What?” I breathed and she laughed softly, getting closer.
“Something else you need to get used to, my dear,” she bumped me with her hip then looked down at the fabric, her lips twitching, “the walls of tents are thin. And, especially with the Dax, people listen.”
Oh my God.
“People heard us?” I breathed (yes, again!).
“You were shouting,” she answered on another wicked grin.
Oh my God!
“Then you were moaning and crying out,” she chuckled as I stared at her in mortification, “the spoils of victory for King Lahn, I’m sure.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, she threw back her head and laughed then she wra
pped an arm around my waist and guided me away from the fabric stall, still chuckling as I noticed Sheena grinning unabashedly at me.
She knew too.
And she was twelve!
The horror!
“Settle, my dear,” Diandra urged on a squeeze of my waist when the look of mortification stayed rooted on my face, “this is good,” her face dipped to mine, “very good. His people could not know his words of the wedding rite were true. But last night, you proved them true. Shouting at a king?” She shook her head in mock disapproval all the while tsk tsking and I knew it was mock because she was grinning the whole time. “That’s not done, Dahksahna Circe. Only the bravest heart and fiercest spirit in the soul of a woman would risk challenging a mighty warrior king.” She gave me another squeeze, looked away and murmured, “Well done, my dear.”
Okay, shit, I was in trouble.
“Um… Diandra?” I called as she moved us to a trinket stand filled with bangles, earrings, delicate chain bracelets and necklaces and all sorts of cool shit for hair, Sheena trailing and stopping around the side of the table where the wares were laid out.
Diandra fingered a silver hair pin with what looked like a garnet in it and murmured, “Mm?”
“What does trahyoo mean?” I asked and her eyes came to me.
“It means, sleep, in the imperative. As in ahnoo, which is imperative, ahnay would be used if you were to say,” she picked up the pin, “‘I like this’ or in Korwahk, ‘Kay ahnay sah’ But if you were to want to put emphasis on it, say, if you were a king… or a queen, where you expect your merest whim obeyed, you would say, ‘I like this.’ Or ‘Kay ahnoo sah.’ Therefore, if you are ordering someone to sleep, you wouldn’t say, ‘trahyay’ you would order, ‘trahyoo’.”
“Oh,” I whispered and she put the pin down. Then I asked softly, “And mayoo?”
I watched her profile smile a smile I knew was knowing even getting only half of it. “An order again. Faster.”
Shit. Well, I was right about that one.
“You would say mayay if you were not commanding it,” she explained further.
“Right,” I said softly then I mumbled, “Um…” I picked up a set of gold bangles inlaid with tiny seed pearls and continued, “and, uh… what does… lapah meer-something kah lira anahl mean?”
I felt her eyes on me. “Lapah meer… kah lira anahl?”
I looked to her. “Um… I think so.”
Her head tipped to the side in confusion and Sheena piped up to suggest, “Lapoo meera kah liros anah. Anah, Loola. Anah,” she finished with emphasis, my eyes swung back to Diandra and I saw light had dawned.
“Yes, lapoo meera kah liros anah. This means ‘is between my legs tonight’.” Diandra explained and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as my stomach clenched, Diandra saw the pink instantly, smiled gently and got close. “Not what you’re thinking,” she said softly. “The men gather tonight. Tomorrow, the Dax is choosing his new warriors. Tonight, the men will celebrate as only men can – being loud, drinking a lot and watching warriors beat each other half to death.”
I felt the blood that rushed to my face drain away and Diandra caught that too so she shook her head.
“No, Dahksahna Circe, it isn’t like that. It’s sport. Or, they think it is. It’s harmless. That isn’t to say warriors don’t get beaten bloody but they want it and like it. They train for it. A test of strength, endurance. They like to show off and it helps to settle the order of things, who is strongest, who needs to get stronger, who is faster, who needs to get faster, who is more tactical, who needs to learn strategy. And the others who do not participate enjoy it with much enthusiasm. That said, Seerim has long since stopped taking me. I, on the other hand, don’t enjoy it. The warrior wives don’t.” She got closer. “And, my dear, the good thing is, not many men allow their women in, wanting their wives to be with them while they commune with their brethren.” Her eyes got bright. “And it is very rare indeed, so rare I have never heard of it, that a new warrior husband would honor his bride with wanting her attendance. It usually takes months, even years and sometimes doesn’t happen at all.” My heart skipped a beat but then it stopped altogether when she finished, “And when you attend, you sit on the ground between his legs.”
I stared at her.
Great. Just great.
“I sit on the ground?” I asked and she nodded. “Between his legs?” I went on to clarify and she smiled.
“It isn’t what you think,” she told me and I looked to the bangles.
“Oh yes it is,” I mumbled and her hand came to my chin, pulling it up so I would look into her understanding eyes.
“It is for some of the warriors, my dear, just what you think,” she said quietly. “For others, it is a way of being close to a loved one while enjoying something he likes very much.” She leaned in. “For a king and his long awaited bride, taking her to the games just five short days after he claimed her, my guess is, it’s the latter.”
I stared at her again and breathed, “He doesn’t love me.”
Her head tipped to the side and her lips tipped up.
“It is said, throughout history, that many a great warrior, in fact, the strongest and fiercest, have fallen in love with their brides simply by gazing upon them in the parade.” Her hand slid over my cheek and she suggested, “Perhaps this has happened to you.”
I thought about that morning. I thought about the last four days. I thought she was very wrong.
Then I stated, “I don’t think so.”
Her hand dropped, she stepped away and turned back to the trinkets. Then she said to the trinkets, “Many a Wife Hunt has gone by where King Lahn has watched the parade and let it pass him by. His people have waited for years for him to claim his bride. A warrior, any warrior but a warrior like King Lahn especially, has not developed a vast array of feelings. They war. They pillage. They plunder. They fight. They train. They do not form close alliances with their brethren for there are many opportunities for them to fall. They are rarely, in some cases never touched by kindness, a soft hand, a warm gaze and most certainly not before they’re wed.” Her eyes turned to me and locked on mine. “Many humans do not need that, can live their entire lives without it, but some cannot and fewer still of those are warriors.” She paused. “But they exist.”
At that, to cover how what she said made me feel, I blurted, “What does Lahnahsahna mean?”
She smiled. “It means ‘tigress’, my dear.”
“Tigress?”
She nodded and went on. “And ‘Lahn’ means ‘tiger’. He was named ‘tiger’ by his warrior father, who was, incidentally, also a Dax. Before he challenged and bested the Dax who bested his father, and even now, King Lahn was and is known as The Tiger because he is ferocious, clever and strong in battle. He declared you at the wedding rite, as his tigress. Obviously the perfect mate for the tiger and, I will say, it seemed quite clear with the way he said it that it meant little to him that you were claimed as his Dahksahna, even his rahna Dahksahna. But far, far more that he claimed you as his Lahnahsahna. He was not always the Dax but he was born The Tiger, it is who he is, it is who he will always be.”
Okay, I had to admit she was right. It definitely was clear that meant a lot to him. More than a lot. A lot, a lot.
“And kah Lahnahsahna?” I asked quietly.
“My tigress,” she answered quietly.
Oh my.
I looked away and changed the subject quickly before my heart could beat out-of-control.
“And rahna Dahksahna? What does ‘rahna’ mean?”
“Golden.”
“So kah rahna Dahksahna…?” I trailed off.
“My golden queen,” she answered.
“Mm hmm,” I muttered, still fingering the pearl bangles and I heard her chuckle.
The vendor said something eagerly to me, my head lifted and I saw his excited eyes go from me to the bangles and back again.
“Oh no, sorry, I don’t have any money,” I told him, sm
iling at the same time shaking my head and putting the bangles down.
His face fell.
“Take them,” Diandra urged and my head shot around to look at her.
“I don’t have any –” I started and she shook her head.
“He will send a messenger to the Dax, the Dax will give him coin or bestow a favor on him. If you want them, take them.” She grinned at the vendor then back at me. “You do, you do him a great honor. The queen has visited many stalls but has not offered her custom. They are all hoping you will shine your golden light on them so take them.”
“I’m not sure I want Lahn to –”
“My dear, he has much coin. The proof is covering you head-to-toe. Take them. He won’t blink. He will expect you to take your custom to his vendors. It keeps them happy. It feeds their coffers, puts food in their bellies and he needs their allegiance. Take them. Trust me.”
I studied her and she tipped her chin at me encouragingly.
“Take them, Dahksahna Circe,” Sheena urged then tipped her head and smiled a white smile. “Pretty!” Then she giggled.
I looked at the bangles, picked them up and turned them in my hands. They were roughly made but they were pretty. There were five of them and they’d go great with my outfit. Heck, those pearls would go great with any outfit.
I slid them on my wrist.
“Ah! Suh rahna Dahksahna fahnay ta kay! Rah fahnay ta kay! Shahsha, kah Dahksahna, shahsha! Shahsha!” the vendor cried, ending with his hands in prayer position, smiling at me like a lunatic and bowing repeatedly.
“He says the golden queen smiles on him. Thank you,” Diandra translated, grinning.
“How do I say, ‘you’re welcome’?” I asked.
“Nahrahka,” she answered and I turned to the vendor, bowed my head and smiled.
“Nahrahka,” I said to him.
“Suh rahna Dahksahna lapay sahna! Shahsha fahnay ta kay. Shahsha, kah Dahksahna!” he yelled, I laughed and looked at Diandra.
“He says the golden queen is beautiful. Thank you for smiling at him,” she explained and I nodded to her, to him and smiled again.
The Golden Dynasty f-2 Page 7