by Zoey Draven
So, he was surprised when I tied back my freshly washed and brushed hair and asked for a shovel. He handed me one hesitantly and I steeled my spine and I went to work.
“If the Vorakkar sees you doing this,” Mirari said again, “he will not be pleased.”
“Mirari,” I hissed. “Enough.”
Wisely, she closed her mouth, but she still eyed the large piles of excrement that I had to shovel. It would take me most of the afternoon.
Her shoulders sagged and then she walked to the entrance of the pen, snagging another shovel from where they were lined against the enclosure.
“What are you doing?” I asked, straightening.
“I cannot allow you to work here all afternoon,” Mirari said, tucking her long skirt up into her waistband, leaving her long legs exposed. “I will help.”
“Mirari, you don’t have to do that. This is my task.”
“I am your piki,” she simply replied, scrunching her nose when she stepped into the pen.
A little bloom of affection and gratitude for her opened in my chest as I watched her shovel a nearby pile. I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile from my face at her look of disgust.
Lavi seemed even more thrilled to watch Mirari, who bit out something in Dakkari at her when she saw the other piki grinning. Whatever she said made Lavi’s smile die and she, too, after a moment’s hesitation, slouched into the pen to help.
Jriva laughed in his Shit Corner as the three of us shoveled and any passing Dakkari looked at us in bewilderment, even lingering to watch before continuing on their way.
Once most of the pen was cleared, the pyroki master came over and dismissed us.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I informed him, wiping my forearm over my brow.
The news seemed to displease him but he didn’t argue with me. Instead he said, “Lysi, Morakkari.”
We walked the short distance back to my tent, my two assigned guards trailing behind us, and I wiped my feet at the entrance before turning to the piki. “You can go for the day and wash and rest. If I need you, I’ll send for you.”
Mirari shook her head and said, “We will help you wash.”
“I can bathe myself,” I told her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Go.”
Hesitantly, Mirari inclined her head, addressed Lavi in Dakkari, and then turned and left.
My bath from that morning was still inside the tent, though the water was cool. I undressed and slid inside, sighing. The cold water actually felt good after sweating in that pen and I scrubbed myself thoroughly before stepping out and dressing in my pants and tunic.
Not a moment afterwards, one of the guards called out, “Morakkari.”
“Lysi?” I called out, frowning.
The tent flap pushed in, but it wasn’t my scarred guard that came through the entrance.
It was Hukan.
I straightened, still frowning. What was she doing here?
“Morakkari,” she greeted, her tone careful. “I have come to check on your markings.”
I blinked, my eyes straying to my uncovered wrists. I didn’t trust that was why she came, but I knew I couldn’t turn her away. She was Arokan’s family, had very likely saved his life when he was a boy.
I nodded and she approached, reaching out her hands to clasp my wrists, peering down at them closely, turning me this way and that way.
“Human flesh is delicate, I see,” she commented.
My lips pressed together but wisely stayed silent.
She glanced up at me, the green ring of her eyes contracting as she studied me. Arokan didn’t look anything like her, except for the black color of their hair. Arokan’s skin was darker, more golden, and his features were broad and masculine.
“It was foolish what you did yesterday,” she murmured.
I gritted my teeth and tugged my wrists from her grip. “I already know that. I knew that the moment I saw your face in the crowd,” I admitted to her.
“I do not particular care for you,” Hukan said.
I huffed out a laugh. “I hadn’t guessed.”
“However, Arokan does, for whatever reason,” she continued, her lips twisting in an expression of distaste.
I looked at her, surprised. “Why did you come here, Hukan? Really? And don’t say to check my markings because we both know that’s a lie.”
“I came to give you advice.”
Shaking my head, I said, “Arokan already spoke to me about what—”
“You have a big heart,” she said, which made my brow furrow in further surprise. However, the way she said it made it seem like an insult, not a compliment. “You wished to save his life. But that big heart will not win over any Dakkari, especially in regards to a Ghertun.”
Inhaling a sharp breath, I said, “Arokan told me what happened. To his father and his mother. Your sister.”
Hukan’s eyes flashed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “And you’re right, what I did yesterday was foolish. I understand that now. A guard was injured because of me and I may have lost the respect of the horde.”
“You were not born to lead,” she said, twisting that knife in my chest. “Arokan was. He was born for this. He must make the ugly decisions that no one else wants to make. He needs a strong queen at his side, who brings strength, not failure, to the horde.”
“I realize that,” I said slowly, holding her gaze.
“I can help you get back to your village.”
My breath left me. Stunned, I whispered, “What?”
“I can arrange a guide for you, to take you there,” Hukan said, her jawline as hard as stone. “You will only drag him down. The best decision is if you left and never came back.”
Disbelief and anger made my tongue knot.
“You must leave right now though,” Hukan continued. “I can distract the guards. You can meet my guide in the forest. You can be back in your village this very night.”
“Get out,” I rasped.
“Neffar?” Hukan asked, surprised. “I am offering you what you want. Take it. You can leave before Arokan returns from the hunt.”
“I said get out,” I repeated, my tone low.
Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” I said. “But one thing you should know is that I never go back on my word. I promised myself to Arokan and it’s a promise I intend to keep. For the rest of my life.”
Hukan’s expression darkened.
“Leave now,” I said. “Don’t speak to me again unless absolutely necessary and I won’t tell Arokan about this, about how you planned to betray him by sneaking me away.”
“One day,” Hukan hissed, “he will ask me to send you away. When that day comes, I will rejoice.”
I bit my tongue, trying to keep my temper in check, and watched her spin and leave the tent without another word.
I brought a shaking hand up to my lips, anger enveloping me, though I tried to see reason. She was his blood relation. She was only trying to do what she thought was best for him.
But that didn’t matter.
I was his wife, his queen.
Act like it, Arokan had told me. He’d told me I was strong. He hadn’t even hesitated when I’d voiced my insecurities that I wasn’t strong enough.
But I was also human. Hukan accused me of having a big heart, but I wouldn’t be ashamed of that. I wouldn’t let her get to me.
So I didn’t care if I had to shovel pyroki shit for the rest of my life. I would do it.
Marching over to the tent’s entrance, I stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight and looked at the scarred guard, who I knew spoke the universal tongue. I didn’t ask. A queen didn’t ask.
Instead, I demanded, “Take me to the warrior who was injured yesterday.”
Chapter Twenty
The tent was dark when I stepped inside, after the guard announced my presence. Guilt hit me in the stomach when I saw the injured warrior, sprawled out on his bed. A female was tending to him,
his mate, I realized, and that guilt doubled.
“Hello,” I greeted, hoping that at least one of them spoke the universal tongue. “May I come in?”
The female nodded and relief went through me. “Morakkari,” she greeted, inclining her head, standing from beside the bed.
The warrior was eyeing me in surprise. His right thigh was bandaged all the way to his knee. It was elevated on cushions and I pressed my lips together, my shoulders sagging.
“I…” I trailed off. Incense was burning in the tent, similar to the one that had been burning in Hukan’s, though not quite as potent. The female had been grinding up herbs in a pestle, probably for her mate’s wound, to decrease the risk of infection. Clearing my throat, I met the warrior’s eyes and said, “I wanted to apologize.”
The female made a sound in the back of her throat, but the warrior kept my gaze.
“It was my fault you were injured,” I said. “I made a mistake. I have come to ask your forgiveness.”
Both of their gazes were wide and the female blinked rapidly, processing my words.
The warrior averted his eyes—which I took as a good sign—as he said, “Morakkari, you do not need to apologize.”
“I do,” I said simply. “And don’t say I don’t need to because of the Vorakkar. I want to apologize, for putting you in danger. The Vorakkar made the right decision. I see that now. And I’m so grateful that no one else was hurt due to my foolishness. Please, warrior, accept my apology.”
Arokan might be upset to know that I’d come there, after he told me I couldn’t see the warrior. But I didn’t care. It was what I should’ve done first thing that morning.
The warrior didn’t hesitate. For a brief flash, he met my gaze and then looked away. “I do, Morakkari. Thank you for honoring our voliki with your presence.”
His acceptance didn’t make all the guilt go away, but I felt slightly better now that I’d come.
“Thank you,” I said. “Kakkira vor.”
Words that Mirari had taught me. They meant ‘thank you’ in Dakkari, or at least I hoped they did. By the small, albeit warm, smile the female gave me, I hoped I didn’t butcher the words.
“I’ll let you rest,” I said softly with a smile at both of them. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to check in on you later. I can bring you your meals.”
I turned then but the warrior called out, “Morakkari.” I looked at him. “There is talk throughout the horde you worked in the pyroki enclosure this morning.”
“I did,” I said hesitantly.
“The mrikro, the pyroki master,” he started and I assumed he meant the grumpy elderly Dakkari, “enjoys hji. It is a fruit. You can acquire it from one of the merchants near the front of the camp. It will…soften him towards you.”
Bribery. The warrior was telling me to bribe the mrikro grump into giving me a better job, one that didn’t include shoveling shit.
I grinned and laughed slightly. “Hji, huh?” I nodded, already forming a plan for the morning. “Thank you, warrior. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Arokan returned in the middle of the night. I’d been tossing and turning, thinking of the story he’d told me about his father and mother, about the Ghertun.
So, when I heard the clattering of hooves across the earth and hushed Dakkari voices, I sat up in bed, clutching the furs to my chest. Soon, I heard heavy footsteps approach the tent and my breath hitched when Arokan ducked inside, looking tired, but unharmed.
Relief trickled through me. His eyes burned into mine but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he extinguished the sole candle I’d let burn, undressed until he was nude, and then climbed into bed beside me.
He smelled like salt and the earth and pure Dakkari male. Greedily, I dragged him into my lungs as I settled back down onto the furs.
Arokan gripped the back of my neck, pulling me towards him before running the tip of his nose along the column of my throat. My breath hitched, desire building at the small touch.
“Did you find them?” I whispered into the darkness, finding the familiar glowing yellow of his ringed eyes.
“Lysi,” was all he said, his voice floating over the flesh of my neck. He ran his tongue there next and my hands trembled underneath the furs.
“Were any of the warriors hurt?”
“Nik.”
His scent muddled my thoughts as his hand trailed down. I could feel him hard against my body. I was quickly learning that Dakkari males had a healthy need for regular sex and just remembering that consuming need made my belly quiver.
I stayed as still as possible, torn between reaching for him and simply lying there, frightened by the potent desire I felt for my captor husband.
Never in a million years did I think I would want him this way. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind when I made that initial bargain.
He felt me tense when his fingers reached my sex, when he gently ran his thumb along my slit. He stilled and pulled back, peering down at me with those observant, watchful eyes.
Whatever he saw made his jaw tick and with a rough sound, he pulled his hand away, settling back against the cushions.
“Sleep, kalles,” he ordered and then promptly shut his eyes. “Veekor.”
Confusion, frustration, and perhaps even relief, flooded through me.
I bit my lip, still able to feel the heat of his hand between my thighs, the warmth of his tongue ghosting across my neck. Squirming, I blew out a quiet breath and then hesitantly settled back into my cushion, facing away from him.
What was that about? I wondered.
Closing my eyes, I listened to his steady breathing, trying to calm my racing thoughts and my burning body.
And I fell into another restless sleep wondering why he’d stopped…and realizing that I hadn’t wanted him to.
Chapter Twenty-One
The pyroki master was happily munching on his hji fruit that I’d brought him from the market stalls that morning.
While I wasn’t shoveling shit anymore, the task he’d given me wasn’t much better and one that terrified me more.
I had to groom the pyrokis that had returned with their horde riders late last night. Except for my husband’s, of course. No, the pyroki master seemed to think that taking care of Kailon was his sole responsibility and one he took great pride in.
Kailon had eyed me carefully as the master demonstrated what I was to do for the rest of the morning. My heart had fluttered madly in my chest, thinking that any moment, the black-scaled, red-eyed beast could tear off a chunk of me…just like a pyroki had done to my mother. My hands had trembled. I could feel rivulets of sweat stream down my back. I thought I would throw up my morning meal as I stood as close to Kailon as I dared.
The beast was just like my husband in a way. Big, intimidating, powerful. It had eyes like steel and didn’t seemed impressed with me at all.
The master gave me a stiff bristled brush and led me over to a pyroki, which stamped its feet and made a hair-raising sound at my approach.
“Do not fear them,” the master ordered me, giving me a frown. “They sense it. They will take advantage of it.”
It was impossible for me not to fear them. That fear felt imbedded within me as I thought about what Arokan said. That if I didn’t understand and accept the pyroki, I would never win over the horde. I wondered if it was possible when I felt this ball of fear lodged in my guy. I knew I would always have it.
Mirari and Lavi watched me from outside the pen. Mirari had apparently deemed grooming not as undignified as shoveling shit and hadn’t offered her help that day, not that I wanted it.
I had to do this. Not only for Arokan, but for myself.
Then the master left me with the pyroki, sauntering back to oversee Jriva, who still had the Shit Corner duty.
The brush felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in my palm as I slowly approached the beast. It made that awful groaning sound in its throat again and I took a deep breath, carefully catching the reins in my grip as the master ha
d showed me, to keep the head steady.
I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned my head, I saw Arokan, walking with the messenger and another Dakkari male. I hadn’t seen him since he came to bed last night, but our eyes connected and he stopped, breaking off his conversation to watch me.
He crossed his arms over his massive, golden chest and waited. The two others males noticed and watched me as well. Arokan cocked his head to the side as if saying ‘get on with it already.’
My jaw clenched. He was testing me, wanted to see if I would actually do it.
Indignation rose, briefly overlapping my fear. I set my shoulders back and tugged the pyroki’s head towards me with a pull of the reins, holding him steady. When he struggled, my muscles strained as I held him tight, fighting the panic as much as the creature.
Then I brought the brush down, running it across the scales, scraping off a speck of dried blood that had formed, trying not to think whose blood it was. Ghertun or Dakkari or pyroki.
The pyroki struggled again, making my breath hitch in fright and surprise, but I held him firm and whispered, “Stop. I’m not hurting you.”
The pyroki seemed surprised to hear my voice, stilling for a moment, tilting its head to the side.
“Trust me, you can do a whole lot of damage to me, more than I could ever hurt you.”
The pyroki blew out a harsh breath through its slitted nostrils, blowing snot to the ground.
“Gross,” I whispered without malice, my hand still trembling as I scrubbed the brush across its scales.
So, because it seemed to help, I continued to talk quietly to the beast as I brushed off the evidence of a battle. I told him about my village, about how cold the temperature was that day, about Arokan being almost as grumpy as the pyroki was, about Mirari and Lavi.
Hell, it helped me. It kept my mind off the fact that this beast towered over me, could easily crush me with its weight or kill me with a single snap of his powerful jaws. Talking to the pyroki somehow made the task at hand easier.