Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twenty-One

“Come.”

His voice pulled me from my thoughts and I blinked as the stream of golden morning light filled the voliki. He’d only ducked his head inside, the first I’d seen of him since he’d left during the night.

I pulled on my pants, tying the lace tight at my waist. I kept on the tunic he’d given me last night, tucking it into the waistband. The material was no longer transparent now that my hair no longer wet it. After pulling on my too-large boots, I joined him outside.

He regarded me carefully when I met his eyes. He was still bare-chested, his golden tattoos on full display. For the first time, I wondered how the Dakkari inked the designs onto their skin. I wondered if it hurt.

In the light of day, he looked…better. His face was no longer contorted in blind rage. He simply looked tired.

Which wasn’t surprising considering he’d barely slept. I wondered if he had slept during our journey to his horde—I didn’t remember a time when he had. He’d always been awake when I had been. Except last night…that was the first time I’d seen him sleep. His face had been relaxed, though his lips had been turned down into a frown.

I’d joined him in sleep shortly after, only to be awakened with him on top of me, his hand at my throat, fury in his gaze.

Last night hung between us.

Heavy.

Knowing.

He knew I had some sort of power. He could sense it, which had stunned me. Even when I’d used my gift to feel the emotions of my family members, they’d been oblivious. Yet, he could feel me?

How?

“Did I scare you last night?” he asked.

Breath whistled through my nostrils when I looked up at him.

“Did you want to?” I asked him in return.

“Lysi,” he murmured, scraping a hand down his face. “I did.”

He’d wanted to scare me?

“I…” he trailed off. He shook his head. He appeared…so incredibly tired. “I needed you to be as scared as you make me feel sometimes.”

His confession left me bewildered.

Iscared him?

I almost wanted to laugh.

“I’m—I’m not a sorceress, horde king,” I whispered, wanting him to know that, at the very least. “I don’t have the power to destroy a horde. I would never do anything like that.”

I didn’t know why it was so important to me for him to know that. But that word had echoed in my mind long after he’d gone. It made my mind go sour.

His jaw tightened. “You have more power than you think.”

My brow furrowed.

“Come,” he growled, his tone hardening, like he already regretted saying that. “We will go see Lokkaru now. She is awake.”

I nodded wordlessly, following him when he turned from me and walked towards the bulk of his horde.

It was still early in the morning, the sun so bright I had to use my hand to shield it from my eyes. Not many Dakkari were awake. The volikis were quiet with sleep and rest and those that did roam around stayed to themselves, only inclining their heads to their horde king in respect before regarding me with suspicious interest. Then they continued with their morning duties.

The voliki we stopped in front of was like all the rest, situated towards the middle of the encampment. Reaching out, I stroked my finger over the hide that covered the domed home. It had grown impossibly soft with the passing years.

“How old is she?” I whispered, studying the hide, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“One hundred and five years.”

The oldest living member in our village had been seventy before they’d passed on. Could the Dakkari really live this long?

I didn’t doubt it.

“Nevretam terun,” Davik called out.

A soft voice came from within and the horde king held the voliki flap entrance open for me. Taking a small breath, I ducked inside. I felt his heat behind me when he followed a moment later.

The voliki was brightly lit, a fire roaring in the golden basin. The home was much smaller than the Vorakkar’s, which was to be expected, but was comfortable and warm. A high bed of furs was in the center, though the elderly female we sought was on a cushion on the floor, seated before a table which was covered with her morning meal.

At first sight, I thought surely Davik was mistaken. This female was not one hundred and five years of age. Her hair was silky and black, hanging to the middle of her back. Unlike the other Dakkari females I’d seen while riding through the horde the night before, Lokkaru wore no adornments or beads in her hair. Her clothing consisted of a long, thick dress the color of moss and a white fur shawl draped across her shoulders.

When she peered up at us, I saw her eyes were yellow, not red like the Vorakkar’s. Her age showed more in the deep wrinkles of her face, in her slow, careful movements as she brought a goblet of steaming liquid to her lips.

Once she finished sipping it, it shook as she replaced it back on the table. Inclining her head, though she was one of the first I’d seen to hold his eyes, she greeted, “Vorakkar.”

“Terun,” Davik murmured, inclining his head in return. “We have come to seek your help.”

She blinked, long and slow, and then her gaze shifted to mine. I was tempted to press into her mind…but I was slowly realizing how intrusive it was. How easily I’d always used it, almost as a greeting towards others. Uncomfortably aware that Davik would know if I used my gift, I simply mirrored his actions, dipping my head towards her.

“What help could I be?” she asked, in the universal tongue. Her voice was scratchy, as if unused, but soft.

Davik’s hand came to my lower back, surprising me. He led me forward, had me sit across from Lokkaru at the table, and he knelt next to me, sitting back on his heels.

“You confided in me once. When you first asked to join my horde,” he started. “Do you remember what we spoke of?”

A look of confusion passed over her features. She looked around her voliki. A strong scent of incense perfumed the air. “I have always lived here.”

“Nik, terun. You joined my horde ten years ago, after the cold season. You were living in Dothik, selling fruit you stole from the Dothikkar’s gardens.”

A mischievous smile crossed Lokkaru’s features. It was so unexpected and surprising that I felt my lips twitching in response. Had she really been stealing from the Dothikkar? Ten years ago would have put her at ninety-five years old.

“You tried to sell me some hji. I knew the only place to get hji in the capital was from his gardens,” he said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at Davik. His voice had gone a little quiet, soft. He liked this female, respected her. He’d discovered her stealing from the Dothikkar…and instead of turning her in, he’d taken her into his horde?

“Lysi,” she said, now grinning. Her eyes brightened. “The Dothikkar does not even like hji. He had too much of it and the guards always napped around sunset.”

Davik smiled and my breath almost left me. It wasn’t his dark, cutting smile, or his mocking one. It was genuine. And it was beautiful.

I thought about this Davik before me now. Then I thought of the Mad Horde King, with his storm of rage brewing underneath. How opposite they were.

His eyes locked with mine. His gaze dropped to my lips and I realized I was smiling at him. I ducked my head, biting my lip to hide it, as silence stretched out in the voliki.

The horde king turned back to Lokkaru. “You told me of your mother, of your lomma. And your father. Do you remember?”

A long breath escaped her. When I looked at her, I was surprised to see the tears glimmering in her gaze.

“Lysi,” she said. “Of course I remember, though not what I said.”

This will take time, I realized, my shoulders dropping slightly. There were only three weeks until the black moon and we hadn’t even begun to search for the heartstone yet.

“Nik,” she said, her eyes darting around the voliki, like she was seeing something we couldn’t. “That is not true. I remember. I remember Lomma. She told me…what was it? She told me love grows and it grows true, as long as it is nourished. Like my father.”

Davik caught my eyes again. He shook his head once, though I swore I spied relief in this expression.

“You must be hungry, cossa,” she said to me. “You look hungry.”

She held out a bowl of something dark blue and mashed. I took it from her. Then she presented me with another small plate of flat, beige-colored circles. She peeled away the top layer, scooped up the blue mash with it, and folded it neatly inside. Then she pinched the circle closed until it was neat before giving it to me.

“Good for the womb,” she informed me, looking at the wrapped beige ball in my hand. “Kasba root.”

The womb?

Davik made a chuffing sound in his throat and my face flamed with realization.

She thought…she thought that Davik and I…

I stuffed the ball into my mouth to avoid saying anything, to avoid meeting the horde king’s gaze. I looked anywhere but at him and my eyes caught on another table in the voliki. On it was a smaller basin fire that was heating what looked like animal fat in a clear jar, melting it into a liquid.

Next to the basin was a bucket, a stick wrapped in twine lying across it. I realized what it was. She was a candle maker. That was when I saw all the candles around her voliki, most melted down into pools, though none were lit now. Their color was chalky white, but back at my village, one of the women had made wax with vibrant colors, using things she’d foraged from the forest for dye.

An idea came to me. My grandmother had become quite forgetful in her old age too. Her memories came and went. Some were gone forever but others returned. I’d noticed that she remembered the most when she was not trying to remember. She would tell me stories as she wove strands of fiber together for a blanket or a shawl, stories she might not have told me otherwise.

“Do you make candles?” I asked Lokkaru softly, gesturing over to the table, the taste of the kasba root lingering in my mouth. It had a pleasantly sweet yet spicy aftertaste and the circle she’d wrapped it in was a thin dough, chewy and soft.

Her eyes followed my hand and her spine straightened when she saw her crafting station. “Lysi.”

“Will you teach me how to make them?” I requested. I gave her a soft smile when her eyes returned to mine, when her head tilted. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”

The Ghertun could see in the dark very easily, so there had been little use for candles, or fires, or light underneath the Dead Mountain.

The idea excited her. When I glanced over at Davik, he was regarding me with a stoic, almost calculating expression.

“Lysi, lysi,” Lokkaru said, rising from the table with surprising ease.

“A woman in my village used to add dye to the wax to make them colorful,” I told her. She rounded on me with an intrigued expression. “Perhaps we could try to add dye for some of them.”

Her expression was lively with the possibility. That mischievous smile was back. “We could steal dried kuveri from Arinu.”

My brows rose.

“Terun,” the horde king said, shaking his head. “Though you do not regard given names with importance, others do not feel the same. I have already told you this.”

My gaze flashed up to Davik’s and his jaw tensed when he saw me looking. His words were a reminder of last night. I knew his given name now. He’d asked me to say it, over and over, before he’d…

Before he’d kissed me. Again.

I cleared my throat.

Lokkaru’s head ducked. “My apologies, Vorakkar.”

“And no stealing,” he said, his voice a little gruffer after our exchanged glances.

He stood. As Lokkaru shuffled over to her candles, he leaned over me, his long, unbound hair brushing my cheek. I tensed, sucking in a small breath as he rasped in my ear, “You will stay with her?”

“Yes,” I whispered, tilting my head to look back at him.

His gaze burned. His nostrils flared when his eyes trailed to my lips, to the little cut in the corner where his teeth had accidentally cut me. I knew what he was remembering…the metallic taste of my blood that he’d licked.

Tension thrummed between us as Lokkaru hummed to herself.

“You have much to tell me tonight, leikavi,” he murmured, reaching down to brush the back of his claw over the cut on my lip.

I inhaled a sharp breath. About my gift, I knew.

“Do not let her light the candles you make,” he told me. His gaze traced up to Lokkaru’s figure. “She forgets them.”

I frowned but nodded.

He leaned forward, his teeth scraping across the side of my neck, and heat curled in my belly.

“I will return for you later.”

He made those words sound like both a threat and a heated promise.

Then he was gone, pulling away, and ducking under the voliki’s entrance before he disappeared from sight. Outside, I heard his heavy footsteps retreat, heading towards the front of the encampment.

All the while, I brushed my fingers over the small bite he’d given me.

From the other side of the voliki, Lokkaru sighed, “Finally, he has been conquered. Now you must nourish him.”

Before I could question her words, she turned around, her movement slow, shaky, but determined.

“Now, shall we go steal those kuveri?”