The Golden Dynasty f-2

by Kristen Ashley

  That didn’t take long.

  “I’m okay,” I promised her, reached out, squeezed her hand; she gave me her small, weird smile and squeezed mine back.

  Then I looked out into the Daxshee.

  Narinda and I were lounging on hides and cushions outside Lahn and my cham while I kept my eye on Ghost, who was wandering around, being cute, attacking things and generally annoying passersby to which I’d call out, “Kay tingay,” which meant “I’m sorry,” and I’d get smiles as they moved away.

  Our cham had been set up a bit away from the others, close to the creek on a slight rise, so we could see most of the Daxshee spread out below (this gave evidence that The Eunuch did not set up the Daxshee the same every time).

  It was late afternoon, Narinda had come around earlier, we had had lunch and now we were sipping fruit juice, chatting and watching the activity of the Daxshee. There was a long, wide gauze fall set up which provided shade that we could laze under. This was welcome but unnecessary. Nearly my whole body was a golden honey color from riding for days in the sun. But it was nice to have a break from it.

  I’d just told Narinda the story of the bruise that she informed me looked a lot better.

  But it wasn’t gone.

  And I couldn’t allow myself to forget it, no matter how sweet and sexy my husband was being.

  He might be the tiger and a warrior who thrived on challenge but I was a tigress raised by the kind, loving king of a small, loving kingdom and I knew what I deserved and it was not what Lahn handed me a week ago. So he had a fight on his hands, one I was determined to win.

  “Oh look! There’s Diandra! Poyah, Diandra!” Narinda exclaimed, waving frantically and I followed her gaze.

  Then mine narrowed.

  Diandra grinned shamelessly at my narrow-eyed look, came right up and gave Narinda a “poyah” as she dropped into a lounge on the hides, grabbed a big cushion and shoved it under her side and then helped herself to fruit juice.

  Then her dancing eyes came to me. “How are you, my queen?”

  Now she was just trying to be irritating, calling me her queen.

  “I’m not talking to you,” I informed her and she burst out laughing.

  “What’s this?” Narinda asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Diandra answered as I glared at her, “unless you’re talking about our Dax’s groan of gratification that half the Daxshee heard ringing from his cham last night. Seerim and I aren’t that close but it still woke us both up.”

  Narinda’s wide eyes flew to me and a wobbly smile hit her lips.

  I kept up the glare but ratcheted it up as high as I could take it.

  Diandra ignored me and just like Diandra, kept right on yapping.

  “Angry words were heard from our queen but I have inside information that she told our king she loved the feel of him so I suspect things eventually went well for her last night too.”

  Narinda let out a giggle you could tell she tried to suppress… and failed.

  I turned my face away.

  Narinda’s voice came to me. “Have you forgiven him, Circe?”

  “No,” I bit off.

  “Her head hasn’t but other parts of her have,” Diandra chimed in and my eyes sliced to her.

  “Are you trying to irritate me?” I snapped.

  “Yes,” she replied, “you’re very endearing when you’re angry.” She looked at Narinda. “Our king calls it his tigress baring her claws. My husband tells me he speaks openly and often about it, so far as bragging about it. He, too, clearly likes it… even more than me.”

  “Will you shut up?” I clipped and she threw her head back and laughed.

  Then she focused on me, still chuckling. “The Daxshee is abuzz, as usual and, as usual of late, it’s all about their Dax and golden Dahksahna. The Dax emerges bathed from his cham and doesn’t visit the Xacto. His laughter is heard ringing from his cham, amongst other things. He delays the ride until he’s content with her health. He rides at the front of his warriors with his wife tucked close. He gives her a horse –”

  I cut her off with, “You have a horse.”

  Her chuckles died, her eyes got serious and I knew Korwahk wisdom was coming even before she replied quietly, “I do, my dear. My Seerim gave me a horse two years after I was claimed.” She looked at Narinda. “You see, the warriors, they war which means they fall. The Horde is everything, they do form friendships, in battle, they will act to protect their brothers-in-arms but they hold themselves distant. Too many opportunities to lose people who are in your heart. It beats down the spirit, weakens it. But a warrior’s horse, now that’s a different story,” she explained. “Warrior and horse ride into battle connected. The horse of a warrior is part of him. They actually consider their steeds an extension of their own limbs. I’ve heard Seerim tell me battle stories of warriors receiving wounds they would not get if they didn’t move to protect their horse from steel.”

  “Golly,” Narinda whispered.

  “Indeed,” Diandra stated. “This is why, my dears, a newly claimed wife is set to straddling her husband’s steed. It is akin to straddling him but also is a ceremonial offering from warrior to horse on the night a warrior lets in the new most important being in his life, as, while straddling his horse, his new bride will leak his seed which, I think you both have come to understand, is vital to any warrior. Therefore, they feel it is an extremely worthy offering to a creature they feel keeps them safe, makes them strong and is an extension of themselves.”

  Yeah, any man, in this world or my own, thinks that kind of offering is “extremely worthy”.

  Jeez.

  I scrunched my nose at Narinda and she scrunched hers back.

  Diandra ignored our looks and kept speaking. “So, obviously, horses as a whole are revered greatly by The Horde. It would be a guess but a good one that a vast amount of warriors pray to the Horse God. And, therefore, owning a mount is considered a privilege. One must deserve their own mount. Young warriors do not get their own mount until they are chosen to perform their first kill which means they’ll have trained for more than a decade before they acquire a steed. That said, it is no surprise that a husband does not bestow such an honor on his wife until he feels she deserves it. For instance, after she has successfully given him their first son or she has spent much time being a good warrior’s wife, providing for his needs. Therefore, the Dax, bestowing a mount of such beauty to his new bride is cause for much gossip. Gossip,” her eyes came to me, “which was mostly speculation until, of course, his cry was heard last night and his mirth heard this morning.” Her face grew wicked as it looked back to Narinda. “It would seem, sweet Narinda, our Dax’s new wife is providing quite well for his needs.”

  I stared at her, too shocked at the knowledge that Lahn had given me a horse far earlier than most wives earned one to be irritated at her teasing.

  “He is a contradiction,” Narinda muttered and my eyes slid to her to see her staring unseeing into the Daxshee. “From what Circe told me about his mark, I do not wish to like him and every time I see him, he frightens me. Yet much of what you say shows there is a great deal of soft under that hard.”

  “I’m not certain, sweet Narinda, it is the soft our queen likes…” she paused and finished with emphasis, “but the hard.”

  “Diandra!” I snapped but she chuckled as another giggle escaped Narinda.

  Just then, the object of our conversation strode around a cham. He wasn’t close but he wasn’t far and still, his raw energy invaded all around.

  I drew in breath as he stopped to talk to two warriors who waylaid him. Then I allowed my eyes to move over my husband.

  Okay, well, I wouldn’t admit it out loud but I did have to admit to myself that I definitely liked the hard.

  “Oh, what’s this?” Diandra muttered, I tore my eyes from Lahn and looked to my right to see a young boy, slight, perhaps eleven, twelve years old and definitely not of the warrior sort. This was probably why he wasn’t off training somewher
e but instead at my cham carrying what looked a great deal like a guitar and sounded like one when my eyes hit him, he swallowed, looked up to a woman who was standing beside him and then he started strumming and then, falteringly, singing.

  The woman moved forward and laid a flower carefully on the hides well away from me or my girls then she scuttled back, her eyes shooting in Lahn’s direction and back to me as her boy sang.

  He looked nervous and kept screwing up the chords and he wasn’t the greatest singer in the world, it must be said, but he didn’t do half bad and it was definitely sweet. But his mother gazed down on him like the sun’s rays sprouted out his mouth with his voice and I could tell she thought he could do no wrong and that was probably why she took him to her queen to bestow what she thought was a precious gift.

  I smiled encouragingly at him as he lost his way, he found it and kept going and I nodded my head continuously to keep him going.

  Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, I looked that way and tensed. I knew Diandra and Narinda saw it too because I felt them tense.

  Dortak was striding through the chams, a dirty-looking, rough-woven bandage around his middle, the carves on his chest and face had not been stitched but were glistening with goo and were clearly not going to heal very well. But they were healing.

  His bride, clean but bruised up her arms, around her neck and with a cut lip, stumbled behind him.

  She was wearing her claiming necklace, he was wearing a claiming chain around his waist, it was attached to her necklace but he had it in his fist and was yanking on it as he dragged her behind him.

  Jeez, seriously, this guy was the king of dicks.

  He stopped at a warrior that was about five feet from Lahn and he started talking to him and as he did, he yanked her to her knees beside him and his hand fisted in her hair to hold her there. Not that he had to, she wasn’t going anywhere. Not without his permission.

  My eyes moved over her and my heart hurt as they did, clenching more and more the more I took in.

  Whatever girl she once was now was gone. Everything was gone. Her expression was blank, her eyes distant. She was so deep in her head that she probably didn’t even know where she was.

  I looked swiftly at Lahn to see he and the two warriors he was talking to were eyeing the couple with tight faces.

  But they did nor said a word. Lahn simply turned his back on Dortak and resumed his conversation.

  Without thinking, I turned to the boy singing, pushed to my knees and reached out toward his instrument, wiggling my fingers at it and smiling at him. His strumming faltered as did his singing. He looked up at his mother, she jutted her chin to me, he stopped making music and handed his guitar-like thing to me.

  One of my two lost loves was guitar crazy, he had four of them, two acoustic, two electric and he taught me how to play. Then he got shitty when I took to it and quickly got better than him (one of the reasons, I kid you not, why I was convinced he broke up with me but when I threw it in his face, he swore it wasn’t but I knew it was). When he left me, I bought my own guitar and always, every week, twice, three times, sometimes every day, I found time to play.

  And I couldn’t give anything to Dortak’s wife, me being queen or not, except what that boy gave to me.

  So I sat back on my calves as I tested the strings and the frets, found my way and then started to sing Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s “Over the Rainbow/Wonderful World” but with a guitar and not a ukulele.

  You couldn’t say my singing voice was a lot better than the boy’s but it didn’t have to be. Even if you couldn’t understand the words, the song couldn’t be anything but beautiful. I kept my eyes glued to her as she stared at the ground and I hoped somewhere in her head the words to two sweet, hopeful songs meshed together in one beautiful one penetrated and colored that dark world she was living in with all the vibrant shades of a rainbow.

  Then, slowly, her head lifted, her eyes found mine and I did what I thought any good queen would do and that was all she could do to provide what she could for her people – even if it wasn’t much and it was just one of those people.

  And I knew right when the song got in there. Her eyes drifted slowly closed, her face grew soft and I hoped to all that was holy that in that moment she was over the rainbow in a wonderful world.

  When I stopped playing, her eyes opened and I smiled at her. Dortak yanked her chain which wrenched her neck and the soft look disappeared instantly from her face as a flash of pain replaced it.

  The moment he did this, I heard a deep, male voice call out tersely and that voice was really pissed off.

  And it was not Lahn’s voice.

  I looked to my left and saw it was Bohtan. I also saw I had drawn a crowd. And I also saw Lahn’s dark eyes riveted to me in a way he’d never looked at me before but one that made my belly dip and my heart feel light.

  “You disrespect your queen,” Diandra whispered and I started then looked at her to see her eyes on the action in front of us and I realized she was translating.

  I followed her gaze and saw that Bohtan was striding swiftly toward Dortak and words were being exchanged.

  Diandra interpreted.

  “I care nothing of women singing.” That was Dortak.

  “You care nothing of women.” That was Bohtan with a jerk of his head to Dortak’s wife.

  “Caution, Bohtan,” some other warrior said.

  “Yes, caution, Bohtan. My wife is not your concern,” Dortak warned.

  “You’re right. Your wife wouldn’t be my concern. But I’m not talking about your wife. I’m talking about your dog. You’ve made your wife your pet. Do you like to thrust your cock into animals, Dortak?” Bohtan returned and I pressed my lips together because those were fighting words in my world so I was guessing amongst The Horde they were serious fighting words.

  Bohtan went on. “Do not answer that, I know you do. This could not be missed considering you rarely miss an opportunity to show us what a warrior you are by thrusting your cock into in any hole your animal provides.”

  “My bride is none of your concern!” Dortak shouted, yanking on her chain again.

  “But she isn’t your bride!” Bohtan shot back, having made it to Dortak, he leaned in dangerously. “She’s nothing but an animal you’ve brought to heel. You sully The Horde with your actions, thrusting into her face at the games, challenging our Dax while armed, disrespecting our queen in front of our king.”

  Diandra gasped at Dortak’s reply and I knew not only by her gasp but the fact the air went still that something very, very bad had happened.

  A glance showed she’d gone pale and I whispered urgently, “What?”

  She didn’t tear her eyes off what was happening when she whispered back. “Dortak said, ‘I care not for our queen or a king whose new wife rides so soon after the claiming. The yellow one has had his cock two weeks and she’s leading him around by it. Our king is the one who has come to heel.’” Her eyes slid to Lahn and she finished, “That is a challenge.”

  Oh shit.

  My eyes moved to Lahn too. He was surveying the scene with his arms crossed on his chest and an expression on his face that stated clearly he found it mildly interesting. But only mildly.

  “You challenge the Dax?” Diandra interpreted what a warrior standing with Lahn called to Dortak.

  “What Dax?” Dortak spit the words then he spit into the ground in Lahn’s direction. “I see no Dax.”

  Finally, Lahn spoke and he did this mildly too.

  “I advise you stop taking your fists and your cock to your bride, Dortak, so you can heal. I want you fit before I bring you to your knees and take your head.”

  “I claim the Dax,” Dortak shot back, “the first thing I do is thrust my cock into the yellow one, spilling my seed until it leaks out of every orifice in her body.”

  I sucked in breath but Lahn grinned and I stared at his reaction in shock.

  Then Diandra gasped again but quickly translated Lahn’s words,
“You take my head, the Gods would weep because the world is falling from the sky. You get near my tigress, she’ll sink her claws in you and you’ll be looking at your innards spilling out before your last breath escapes your body.” Diandra looked at me. “This is a grave insult to any warrior, my dear, to infer a woman could best him.”

  It would be a grave insult to anyone. Still, it was a pretty awesome comeback.

  Diandra started translating again as Dortak spat, “The yellow one owns your cock!”

  To this, Lahn returned, “You speak truth and I’m glad of it, she knows what to do with it and she likes what she knows how to do. While I was driving it inside her last night, my queen gasped that she loved my cock right before I planted my seed in her womb, seed that might make a warrior, seed that’s already more warrior than you.”

  “Holy crap,” I whispered. That was a good comeback too, perhaps a little on the personal side, but a good one.

  “I don’t even know what that means and I’ll say you can say that again,” Narinda whispered.

  Diandra translated Dortak shouting, “I take your head tomorrow!”

  To which Lahn replied, “No, I want you fit before we toss your headless carcass on the pyre. You’ve got two weeks, Dortak. Then our steel clashes.”

  Dortak glared at Lahn a second before he swung his angry gaze to Bohtan who was still close.

  Diandra interpreted. “Before I claim the Dax, you,” and he jerked a finger at Bohtan, “watch yourself and keep your mind off my bride.”

  “You,” Bohtan returned, “treat her like a bride and I will. You keep treating her like a dog I’ll be forced to put her down like one to put her out of her misery.”

  I pulled in breath at Bohtan’s words (words I hoped he didn’t mean) as Dortak’s face got so red I thought his head would explode then Lahn entered the conversation.

  “Bohtan, enough, your point is made.”

  The king spoke so Bohtan took a step back but his eyes didn’t unlock from Dortak.

  Then Diandra translated Bohtan saying, “After the Dax cuts your tail from your lifeless head and it falls from his saddle, I will be the first to seize it and present it to your bride as my wedding gift.”