by Zoey Draven
The only reason I stayed rooted in place and didn’t tear off after them was that Odrii was still a young warrior. A young warrior who I had not yet given permission to take a mate. He needed to prove his place in the horde, to me, before I formally granted him the luxury.
Still, I was not used to jealousy when it came to a female. When I’d been young, I’d certainly felt envy. Envy for food, for warmth, for nice trinkets. But never for a female.
Until Nelle.
I’d always prided myself on my steel-clad control. My control had helped me through the Trials. Not letting emotion guide me was what made me a better leader to my horde.
But this ball of jealousy knotted my chest and made it hard to think. She’d declared that I had no interest in her as my wife and soon, her words would make their way around the horde. Others would approach her without a doubt. They would see the same things I saw in her…her bravery, her optimism, her strength.
I clenched my fists so tightly I felt my claws puncture my palms. Because I had not officially declared her as mine, others would be free to pursue her.
Vok.
I stared at her arrows, still sticking out from the pole she’d aimed them at. It was the flag of my shield, of my horde, of Rath Tuviri. Worried about the frost, I’d followed her out here when I realized she hadn’t immediately gone to her voliki. But Odrii had reached her first.
I pressed my palms to my eyes, cursing quietly under my breath. My thoughts and wants were jumbled, my body still lusted for her, yet I remembered the way my words had cut her deeply. I’d seen it plainly on her face. She’d always been easy to read.
She’d been nervous to touch me. Nervous, yet curious. She’d wanted to. And the moment she had, the moment she had begun to explore that curiosity I so desperately wanted to satisfy, I’d pushed her away. Earlier she had opened up to me about her parents, about Jana, who had rejected her.
And I’d done the same.
My chest felt tight with the knowledge. But she’d frightened me in a way I hadn’t been frightened before.
Because it had felt so right, hearing her call me her own. She’d looked at me like I was her own too, like she owned me as I owned her. It felt fated. It felt otherworldly.
And it was a warning. A reminder that if I jumped in too deeply, I would never find my way out. I would be lost in her and a part of me feared I wanted to be.
Jolted and uneasy, I’d put the necessary distance between us. I thought it was the kinder thing to do.
So why did I feel like a monster again?
Even Vodan avoided me the next day, as word of my darkened mood floated around the encampment.
It had begun in the training grounds that morning. I’d seen Nelle’s arrows embedded in the flagpole of my shield and had taken on opponent after opponent in an attempt to distract myself. Though I must’ve been especially ruthless that day, since no warrior would step forward after I defeated my ninth.
It didn’t help that I’d seen Nelle emerge from the weapons master’s voliki, the young Dakkari boy once again trailing her. Our eyes had connected just for a moment—I’d devoured the sight of her as if starved—before she jerked her gaze away and left the clearing without another glance.
My mood only blackened when I saw Odrii approach her from his place outside the fence where he’d been watching the training session, walking next to her and his nephew as they disappeared from sight together.
When a tenth brave warrior finally stepped forward, I defeated him with a ferocity that surprised even me.
The rest of the day passed slowly. The council meeting was cut short after it turned particularly vicious and I left towards the pyroki enclosure after dark.
“Ready my pyroki,” I told the mrikro when I stopped.
“Lysi, Vorakkar,” he replied, inclining his head before hurrying towards Lokkas’ nest.
My beast was displeased to be roused that late, especially during the cold season, but once he saw me, his long neck straightened and he made a chirring sound in his throat, trotting over to me without the mrikro’s aid.
I took him from the pen, telling the mrikro not to wait, that I would settle him in his nest once I returned. Then I mounted his back and steered him towards the entrance of the encampment.
“You will be very displeased with me once we must return to Dothik, my old friend,” I murmured down to him once we passed through the fence, once the land was open to us. I pressed my hand to the back of his neck, feeling his heart beat strongly against my palm.
Affection helped banish some of my darker thoughts. Lokkas had been with me since the beginning. I’d chosen him from the Dothikkar’s breeding grounds once I’d completed the Trials. He’d been small then, smaller than the rest, but I’d looked into his eyes and known that he would be mine. I’d felt Kakkari’s influence then too. We were bonded and always would be.
What affection could not distract me from, the open plains of Dakkar could. Lokkas needed no instruction. He knew what I needed and he began to race against the winds. It whipped in my ears until it was deafening.
A light snow had begun to fall, stinging my flesh, but I paid it no mind. My eyes drank in the lightened landscape, the moonlight reflecting off the ice and the snow that was beginning to blanket Dakkar. It was eerily beautiful. Haunting. Lethal.
The towering mountain range of Hitri in the distance met my gaze. Once the cold season was over, I would be leading my horde through it to the forests and valleys of the south.
Nelle would like to see it, I couldn’t help but think. My starling had lived on Dakkar for the majority of her life, yet had seen only a fraction of it. I wanted to show her the beauty of it, the vastness of it.
My growl was whipped away by the wind. Lokkas continued to sprint, stretching his legs, his claws digging deep into the ice as he went.
I didn’t know how long we were gone from the encampment. But once my mind felt quieter, once my flesh was tingling from the cold and I longed for a hot meal and a hot bath, I had Lokkas return us.
Once back at the enclosure, I guided Lokkas to his nest, pressing my hand to his heartbeat and murmuring soft words to him as he lay down.
“We leave for Dothik soon,” I told him. “But for now, rest deeply, my friend.”
I locked up the pyroki enclosure and made my way to my voliki, my heavy boots crunching into the ice as I went, my ears ringing from the winds across the plains.
I had no intention of going to her. At least that was what I told myself when Nelle’s voliki came into view, a soft yellow light from inside making the domed tent glow like a lantern.
When I paused in front of it, I told myself that I had pushed her away for a reason. That she was dangerous. That there was no reason to go to her now.
But I was weak. So vokking weak. And last night, that day had left an uneasy, restless sensation in my chest. The need to see her, to look at her, outweighed every logical argument I could make not to go to her.
With a curse, my heartbeat ticking up in speed, I ducked through the entrance of her voliki.
She was standing at her cabinet, brushing through her hair. Hair I knew was soft, that ran through my fingers like silk. She was dressed in a long shift night dress. A new one from her seamstress friend? It was slightly transparent, given the fire in her basin was behind her, outlining the softening lines of her body and the dip of her waist.
My swallow was loud and hard. For once, words escaped me. I felt the ice crystals in my hair begin to thaw and drip down the side of my face.
Her eyes locked onto me, but she never stopped her brushing.
“Have you come to apologize?” she questioned softly.
I blinked. For once, her expression was unreadable. Or perhaps it was wary? I couldn’t tell and that frustrated me.
“Because if that’s not why you’ve come, you can leave right now, horde king,” she informed me.
My eyes narrowed. Very rarely had she called me ‘horde king.’ And I didn’t like it. It fel
t cold, impersonal.
Which was how my words last night had made her feel, I was reminded.
My chest squeezed, making me growl.
“No?” she asked quietly, her lips settling into a firm line. “Then go.”
Morakkari.
The word was echoing through my mind before I could stop it.
This was what a Morakkari would do if her Vorakkar displeased her. She would have a spine of Dakkari steel and wouldn’t break.
Nik. If I wanted this fixed between us, I would have to crawl back on my hands and knees because she would demand nothing less.
But a Vorakkar didn’t kneel before anyone.
She’d told me once that she didn’t hold grudges. That she didn’t react to things as others might. I knew all she wanted was an apology and an explanation. I knew all she wanted me to say was that I did care for her.
“Rei thissie—”
Belatedly, I knew it was the wrong thing to say.
“Don’t call me that,” she said quietly, laying her brush down on the cabinet, furrowing her brow. “Because I’m not yours. Last night, you made that very clear to me.”
My jaw clenched. It was a mistake to come here. I saw that now.
But how much longer could I stay away from her? I was drawn to her like a bonded pyroki and each passing moment away from her felt like it was taking its toll.
What I feared had already happened, I realized. I craved her. I needed her.
“Go,” she said softly. There was a crack in her expression, one that tugged at my gut. It was her hurt and it ate at me, knowing I had caused it. “Please.”
With one last, lingering look, I did as she requested. I ducked back through the entrance, away from her, though everything in me wanted to stay.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“The Vorakkar announced the frost feast,” my lirilla told me, glancing up at me from the piles of cloth in her lap.
She was creating a tunic for a female I’d seen briefly, while she’d tasked me with easy repairs, tears and holes.
“Finally,” she added. “I expected it to happen already. The bikku are already in a frenzy.”
“Bikku?” I questioned, threading my needle through a pair of hide pants. My hands felt blistered from my morning in the weapons tent, but I’d gotten close to pinching the fletching just right and I’d been on a high ever since.
“The females who prepare our meals,” she said. “Who do you think makes all the food?”
Just another one of my curiosities satisfied. “I’d always wondered. Where do they make it?”
“They have a tent towards the pyroki enclosure.”
“The one next to the baths?”
“Lysi.”
I’d been there over two weeks now and I learned something new about the encampment constantly.
“But only bikku are allowed inside,” she added, “or else the warriors would be too much of a distraction.”
I smiled. “They try to steal food?”
“Constantly,” she said. “So do the children.”
“When will the feast happen?” I asked, taking a break from my work to look up at her. I rolled my neck, hearing it crack.
“In two days.”
And then Seerin will leave for Dothik, I thought. For how long, I didn’t know.
It had been three days since he’d come to my tent. Three days since I’d sent him away and, except for the barest of glimpses around the encampment, I hadn’t seen him or spoken to him since.
The distance between us made me feel dejected. I’d been closest to Seerin. Despite my stronger feelings for him, I thought of him as a friend. I always felt he was honest with me. He intrigued me, somehow managing to assuage my curiosity about him while making me want to know so much more.
Yet in a single moment, our friendship—or whatever the hell it had been—had seemed to crumble. And I was still uncertain why he’d chosen to do that. Because it had been a calculated choice.
“I always love the frost feast,” the seamstress said. “Even though it means that we have to go to our dried meats and soups for the rest of the cold season.”
My gaze refocused on her since it had begun to drift with my thoughts. “Rations?” I asked, my chest squeezing, an old feeling of panic returning.
She looked at me carefully and said, “Nik. There is still plenty of food. Our fresher meat is usually used up during the frost feast. But I assure you, lirilla, the bikku dry the most delicious smoked kinnu and throw together rich, flavorful, nutritious broths. You might not even miss the fresh meat again until the thaw comes.”
I relaxed slightly and nodded, a little embarrassed that she’d had to reassure me so much.
Hesitantly, she asked, “You were very hungry before coming here, were you not, lirilla?”
My brow furrowed and I looked back at the hide pants in my lap, at the needle still in my grip.
“Like I said before, my village was very different than here,” I said softly. Though I’d grown up in that village, it seemed like months had passed since I’d been there.
What had Seerin said? That time moved slower in the cold season? It certainly seemed that way.
Another pang went through my chest, thinking about him, but I shook it away and resumed my work.
“I am sorry,” she murmured, “that you suffered. I feel strange now, knowing that I have not given much thought to vekkiri settlements before. Now I wonder constantly. You have given me another perspective and I am grateful for it.”
Her words surprised me. In return, I said softly, “And your horde has given me another perspective as well. I am grateful too.”
We went back to our work, talking idly of the frost feast. She told me that there would be dancing and music and plenty of fermented wine.
“Perhaps you will dance with my brother,” she teased.
A startled laugh escaped me. “Your brother? Why? I don’t even know how to dance.”
“You have been spending time with him,” she noted.
“Yes,” I said. The last couple nights, I’d been in the training grounds with him, teaching him how to shoot the bow. He’d been interested in learning and I found I liked teaching my favorite hobby. “He is kind. I consider him a friend.”
I’d never thought of him otherwise, though I’d grown used to his flirting. It was harmless, but I was careful not to encourage it. Not when Seerin was still constantly in my thoughts.
“Hmm,” her lips quirked. “Do you consider me a friend?”
“Of course,” I told her. “You’ve also been very kind and patient, as I’ve bombarded you with questions.”
“If that is the case,” she said, “then you may call me by my given name of Avuli.”
My hand stilled, the needle hovering. “Avuli,” I repeated softly. I knew what it meant for her to give me her name. “Then you must call me Nelle. Although, I am sure your father already told you my name after my mix-up that day.”
Her laugh was lyrical and light. “Lysi, he may have. But I wanted your permission to use it.”
“Well, you certainly have it.”
She smiled at me. I was suddenly struck with a fierce emotion, one of grief. Because when I left this place once the thaw came, I wouldn’t only be leaving Seerin behind, but her, and her father’s teachings, and her son following me around repeating my words, and nights in the training grounds with her brother.
“What is wrong, Nelle?” she asked, frowning when she saw my expression.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m just…happy.”
With the exception of what had happened with Seerin, I realized I was happy. Happier than I could ever remember being, even when Jana had been alive. I felt useful here in the horde. I felt like I was slowly carving a place for myself here. I felt free. I felt safe.
But it wouldn’t last.
Nothing did, I was reminded.
However, instead of dwelling on it, I pushed it from my mind. I would sp
end my months in the horde embracing that happiness, that contentedness, as long as it lasted. And once I had to return to my village, I would remember my time here, I would remember Seerin and my friends fondly, and those memories would sustain me. Wouldn’t they?
It was no use to think about anything else. Because I was quite determined to make the best of it.
That thought was still at the forefront of my mind when, later that night, Seerin finally came to me.
Some of my anger had drained over the course of the last few days, but I was still hurt. I was still confused. I still wanted him. I still missed him.
So, when I saw him duck inside my voliki without warning that night, I drank him in. Somehow, he’d grown even more handsome over the last few days, despite the strained look in his eyes that I knew didn’t belong there.
We stood staring at one another as my heartbeat tried to thud its way from my chest.
“I cannot do this any longer, Nelle,” he rasped.
“Do what?” I asked softly.
“Stay away from you,” he rasped, raking a hand through his golden hair, his gaze flickering. I’d never seen him so…undone. So uncertain.
Though my breath hitched, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. I’d heard whisperings the past few days in camp that the Vorakkar was in a terrible mood, along with warnings not to cross paths with him.
I could see why unsuspecting members of the horde wouldn’t want to get in his way.
“Will you come with me?” he asked after a silent moment.
“Where?”
“Out on the plains,” he replied.
My brow furrowed. I still wanted to hear an apology for that night—I still wanted an explanation. Did this mean he wanted to talk?
Still…anywhere that wasn’t his voliki was a much safer bet. And I’d always itched to go beyond the fence, hadn’t I?
Take advantage of your time here, I remembered.
“Alright,” I said hesitantly, but I couldn’t hide my frown. “I’ll come.”