Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Forty

Davik was sleeping next to me.

I knew dawn was only an hour or two away. I knew that red and orange light would softly break over Dakkar and my chance would be gone.

And yet, I couldn’t stop looking up at Davik.

My cheek was resting on his bare chest. Finally, I was beginning to feel some of the numbness I’d experienced fading. In its place was a sense of loss—this deep sense of loss that made me want to scream.

I didn’t cry. I swore I got out all the tears I had left in me in my dream, if that was possible. Nothing was as it seemed anymore, so I didn’t know what was possible and what wasn’t. And so, I didn’t question it.

Davik’s chest rose and fell steadily, his brow furrowed, his lips downturned—broody and intimidating even in his sleep. My eyes traced the deep, jagged lines of the scar across his cheek. He’d never told me how he’d received it—though I strongly suspected it was related to whatever happened to his sister.

Who he also never told me about, I thought. Even the voice in my mind sounded sad.

There was so much I didn’t know about him. So much he refused to tell me. I kept secrets from him as well…so was there ever any hope for us anyways?

No, I knew.

Slowly, I lifted my cheek from his chest, my heart beginning to pound in my chest with nerves and fear. One of his arms was wrapped around me but I prayed he was tired enough from the journey to bury Lokkaru’s body that he was deep in sleep.

When I slipped from his arms and stood next to his bed of furs, I watched him carefully for a moment but he never stirred.

My heart felt swollen and heavy behind the brittle bones in my chest as I quickly dressed—stealing a clean pair of pants, a heavy tunic, and a fur shawl from his chests. I pushed my feet into the oversized boots I’d been wearing. I took a pouch of dried travel rations and a full skin of water as well, looping them into the belt of my pants, which I’d tied tight around my waist.

At the last moment, after a brief hesitation, I also stole one of his daggers. His swords were too heavy for me to lift, so the smaller blade would have to do. Carefully, I slipped that into my belt as well.

When I was finished preparing, I stepped up to the bed, closest to where he slept.

My throat felt tight when I looked down at him, everything rebelling in me, screaming at me, tearing at me.

I wanted to stay. I wanted nothing more than to stay in those strong, warm arms and never leave. He made me feel safe. He made me feel seen, heard. He’d touched me like no other had touched me before and it had been with him that I’d felt like…like I was not a slave. That I was not to be so easily discarded, so easily overlooked.

He’d seen me, even in Dothik.

Remember his betrayal, Vienne, I told myself. A small sound escaped my throat, a small, desperate little ache that had wound its way from my heart and out from between my lips.

He’d never intended to help me find the heartstone.

I needed to remember that because that was the only thing that would make it easier to leave. Because I had to leave. There was no other choice.

And I needed to leave before he woke up. I needed to leave before the horde began to rouse, or else I would have to use my gift and I didn’t need the pain that would follow. The pain would come soon, no doubt, but I needed to be clear-headed for my journey.

I need to be brave, I told myself.

My breath hitched when I felt something familiar spreading across my skin, a brief prickling that made me regard the shadows carefully, though I knew I would not see her.

Tentatively, I reached out with my gift, seeking in the darkness. Biting my lip to suppress my gasp when I found it, I felt that bright, warm energy spreading through my limbs.

I’m sorry I can’t help you, I told it, I told her. Devina’s soul was lingering in this world. That was what I believed. Because her brother would not let her go, for whatever reason.

It shamed me that I hadn’t even tried to help her. Every time I’d wanted to bring up Devina’s request, my throat had closed tight and I couldn’t force the words out.

It was reckless but I leaned down over Davik and brushed my lips across his. A whisper of a kiss, barely there. A goodbye.

Before I could second-guess myself, without looking at Davik again, I treaded softly to the entrance of the voliki, ducking under the flap and out into the darkness of early morning.

The horde was quiet. They were all tired and asleep after the long journey west. A blessing, perhaps, because it meant that I could roam through the horde unseen, my boots crunching over earth silently as I wound my way towards the pyroki pen.

I knew the ones that were unbonded to Dakkari. I wouldn’t dare try to steal a bonded pyroki, so I’d paid careful attention to the enclosure upon our return a couple hours earlier. The ones unmarked with golden paint were not bonded. And thus, fair game.

Most pyroki were lying on the ground, their four long limbs tucked underneath them carefully, some huddled together in groups, while some preferred to sleep alone.

I spied Nillima, who slept apart from the rest. Her head rose when she saw me and even in my state of grief and despair and anxiousness, a small, sad smile pulled at my lips when she sharply turned her head away, as if pretending she didn’t see me.

“Take care of him,” I whispered to her as I passed, running my fingers across her scaled neck, though she made a sound of protest.

The mrikro, the pyroki master, was nowhere to be seen and so I set my eyes on an unmarked pyroki, sleeping towards the fence of the enclosure. It lifted its head to regard me as I approached. I felt no fear as I ran my palm over its snout, though it chuffed in confusion.

It stood, towering over me on four legs, stamping its clawed feet into the ground, tossing its neck.

I stroked its snout, determination rising.

“I need your help,” I whispered. “Will you help me?”

There was something to be said about the intelligence of pyrokis…and I knew the Dakkari revered them for a reason.

I could understand it now. I even swore the pyroki understood me, or understood my desperate plea. Because in the next moment, it bowed its front legs forward, allowing me to scramble over its back before it rose to full height again.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the pyroki, setting my sights on the gate that separated the encampment from the plains.

I took a deep breath in. A part of me had expected to feel like I had while staring at the glittering turrets in Dothik weeks ago. Frightened beyond belief so that I physically trembled with it.

I felt fear, no doubt, but it wasn’t the same. It was…inevitable fear, but I would not let it deter me.

“Vir drak,” I whispered to the pyroki.