Claimed By the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Fifteen

The winds still raged through the morning and afternoon that day. Shortly after the demon king had left, I’d attempted to venture outside. The thought of being cooped up for the entire day made me antsy, but the moment I’d stepped outside, my stomach had dropped.

The ice rains had begun, whipping through the air with the furious winds. A droplet had caught me across my exposed cheek, right over the mark the rope had left. When I’d squinted out over the camp, I’d seen with relief that the fence was still standing. However, with the exception of a few brave souls, the encampment had been empty and quiet. Briefly, I’d wondered where the horde king had gone, but soon, as another drop of frozen rain narrowly missed my eye, I’d been forced back inside.

So, instead, I’d paced the domed space, listening to the rain hammer down on the voliki.

Sometime in the afternoon, the rain seemed to lessen, but before I could explore outside, two Dakkari warriors were entering the tent with buckets of hot water.

One of the warriors I recognized. He’d been with me the night before, helping me secure the hides when the wind had ripped them up.

I smiled at him as they replaced the bath water, but then noticed that a third person had entered the tent, another familiar face.

“Oh,” I said. “You came!”

The seamstress, the mother of the young boy who I’d met earlier in the week, smiled and inclined her head in greeting.

“Lirilla,” she greeted with the familiar word. “I am glad to see you are well. My brother told me what happened last night, how you’d taken ill.”

My brow furrowed but when I watched the warrior from last night step closer, my lips parted in realization. “He’s your brother?”

“Lysi,” the warrior replied. “I am.”

I wondered what it was like to have a sibling and as I watched them exchange a look, I couldn’t help but feel a tad envious of their bond.

“Thank you,” I told him. “For staying with me last night, for helping me.”

My appreciation made him uncomfortable because his eyes darted to the floor of the voliki.

“It was nothing at all, kalles,” he said once his sister prodded him in the side. He looked back at the other lingering warrior near the threshold of the tent and inclined his head. Gruffly, he said, “We will leave you now. I am glad that you are well.”

Before I had the chance to say goodbye, he departed with the other warrior, leaving me alone with his sister, who I noticed had a heavy bundle of furs in her arms.

My pelt, I realized when she set it down on the rug and unwrapped it.

“I apologize for the delay, lirilla,” she said, shaking it out and presenting the pelt for me. It was white and heavy and thick. It was clean, spotless, and I’d never seen something so luxurious. “I also have another set of clothes for you.”

It took me a moment to realize she was eyeing the clothes I was presently wearing with interest.

When I looked down, I flushed, remembering that I was wearing the demon king’s clothes, considering my own set was still wet from the night before and drying by the fire. He’d given me a long, heavy tunic that reached my knees and a heavy pelt to help fight against the growing chill.

Even I knew what this looked like. I was a human female staying in a Dakkari horde king’s tent, sleeping in his bed, eating his food, and wearing his clothes.

Naturally, she would assume I was his whore so I said carefully, “The Vorakkar has been very kind letting me stay here while my own voliki is built.”

Although now I wasn’t certain I would get my own. Three volikis had been crushed last night during the winds and several more had been damaged. Surely my own would take last priority.

My lirilla gave me a small smile. It was kind, but I got the sense that it was just as careful as my tone had been.

“Volikis are easy to build,” she told me. “If the Vorakkar has ordered yours, then it will be ready soon. Now, how about you try these on and I will see if any adjustments need to be made.”

I did as she requested and tried on the new set. It was similar to my other one, consisting of long, fur-lined pants, a heavy tunic, and another sweater…in addition to the pelt that wrapped around my shoulders and covered my back.

The seamstress hummed and inspected everything thoroughly. “I will need to shorten the hides slightly. Perhaps you wish to bathe while I finish them.”

I nodded and took off the clothes. Strangely enough, I was getting used to being naked around the Dakkari. Between the healer, who’d helped me bathe, and the demon king last night, getting undressed in front of my lirilla seemed easy.

When I sank into the tub, I felt the heat wash over me and in the back of my mind, I heard that groan that the Vorakkar made whenever he slid inside his bath. It prickled my skin and I reached for the washing rag as a distraction.

When I looked over at the seamstress, she was already hard at work on the bottom hem of my pants.

“These are only for the cold season, obviously,” she said. “Once the frost leaves, I will make you other sets for the warmer months and for travel. Dresses and skirts. Prettier things.”

I stilled. Something in my chest warmed at her words, as if it was an obvious thing that I would remain there.

“I am only to remain during the cold season,” I said softly, remembering the horde king’s words, that he wouldn’t risk journeying back to my village during that time.

She looked up at me. “You miss your home and wish to return?”

I swallowed.

No, I thought. I had only been among the horde for a short while, but already, I felt like a weight had been lifted from me. During my time there, I hadn’t killed a single creature, I ate regularly and heartily, I was properly clothed and outfitted for the coming frost, and there was a prospect for…for a life beyond just trying to survive from one day to the next.

“Life is very different here,” I said softly, scrubbing at my arms, avoiding her question. I was growing used to bathing every day as well, to my hair always being clean and my skin being streak-free from dirt and grime and sweat.

“We do not know much about the vekkiri settlements. I have never seen one,” she commented.

Pray that you do not have to see one, I thought.

“I will begin on your clothes regardless, lirilla, later in the season,” she told me. “You never know. You may decide to stay.”

I didn’t think it was up to me, but I kept quiet.

“As for the frost feast,” she continued, sighing, “perhaps I can alter one of my old gowns for you.”

I frowned. “The frost feast?” I repeated.

“Lysi,” she said, smiling up at me as she began to hem the pants. “There is no set night for it yet, but I suspect the Vorakkar will announce it soon. We celebrate the beginning of the cold season with a feast. Usually a few days after the first frost comes.”

“And…I would need a special gown for this?” I questioned.

“Lysi,” she replied, frowning. “Of course.”

My lips twitched at her slightly offended expression and I nodded. “Alright then.”

“There is much to do before then,” she said. “But I will alter one for you. Do not worry, lirilla.”

“Do you need help?” I questioned, watching her fingers work over the cloth. I’d crafted my own clothes before and I’d quite enjoyed it. I liked that it kept my fingers busy, that it required quiet concentration and carefulness.

“Help?” she asked.

I bit my lip. “It’s only that the Vorakkar told me he would find a task for me to do through the cold season. To earn my keep here.” The seamstress blinked. “I was thinking that perhaps I could help you, if you need it. I might not be good at first, but I learn fast.”

Something in her expression softened and she let out a small chuckle.

“Lysi,” she said. “If the Vorakkar says that you can, then I would welcome your help. Females and males alike have already been making orders and requesting repairs. It is always like this during the cold season and there are only so many seamstresses among the horde.”

“I’ll ask him,” I said eagerly, hopeful for something to do during the day other than wander around the encampment.

She inclined her head and we lapsed into a small stretch of silence as she finished taking off a finger’s worth of material from the pants hem.

After I finished scrubbing my body with the washing rag, I glanced back over at her, only to notice she was looking around the tent in between her sewing.

When she saw me looking, her head ducked and she smiled, though it seemed sheepish. “I have never been in Vorakkar’s voliki before.”

I thought of the females that brought our meals in the evenings and remembered the demon king’s words about them, how most aspired to be Morakkari.

“Does that mean you’ve never vied for his attentions?” I asked without thinking. It took me a moment to realize that the question may have come off as rude and my face heated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

She didn’t seem offended, which made relief rush through me. I liked her and I wanted her to like me. I wanted to be friends, so the last thing I wanted was to offend her.

“Nik, I never sought his attentions,” she murmured, looking back down at her work. “When we came to this horde, I had a mate and I was pregnant with his child. I was in love and when you feel that kind of love, of Kakkari’s light, you look at no other. Not even a Vorakkar.”

The reverence in her voice pulled at my chest and I felt longing at her words.

“I wondered if you had a mate,” I commented, thinking of her son.

Even from the short distance, I saw her lips press together. “I do, but he is dead.”

I sucked in a breath, stilling in the bath.

“But for me, matehood is lifelong. He is still my mate and always will be. I will not take another. I could never, knowing that he would never measure up.”

Her pain was palpable, as tangible as a solid thing.

“I’m sorry, lirilla,” I whispered. “I didn’t realize.”

“You could not have,” she said, threading another stitch and glancing around the voliki again. “He was a warrior for the horde. He died in battle, earlier in the year.”

I remembered the day I met her, when the warrior training had begun at the training grounds. I remembered her face when she heard the ringing metal and the hiss of blades. I’d thought at the time that I had somehow made her uncomfortable, but perhaps the sounds had been a reminder of her warrior mate.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, not knowing what else to say, frowning. I knew loss, but I didn’t think I could ever understand her kind of loss. Being in love was a luxury few experienced. Only three couples in my village were love matches and I remembered watching them, thinking they lived in their own world, where it was just the two of them. I remembered being envious, all while knowing I would never experience something like that. Not there.

She waved her hand and gave me a small smile before refocusing her attention. “He gave me many wonderful years and a son. I could ask for nothing else, though sometimes it is painful to be here.”

“Have you ever thought of leaving the horde?” I asked softly.

“Nik, never,” she replied. “My son is happy here, my father loves horde life, the freedom of it. My mate grew up in a horde, as my son will, and I feel closer to him here.” She looked back up at me. “As for the Vorakkar…well, most would follow him anywhere. He is good and fair. He wants what is best for us all. So, nik, we would never leave.”

I could believe that, that many were loyal to the demon king.

We lapsed into silence again and when my skin had begun to soften and prune, I stood and dried off with a spare fur.

When I reached for my new sweater—since the thought of putting on the demon king’s tunic once more left with me a strange sensation—the seamstress said quietly, “Lirilla, you are bleeding.”

My brow furrowed and I looked down my body, turning my arms, searching. “What? Where?”

But then I saw it. A trail of red blood leaking down my inner thigh.

I stilled, my lips parting. I hadn’t bled for four or five months, so the sight surprised me at first.

“Oh,” I murmured, biting my lip. I looked at the seamstress and said, “I need some…”

There were scraps of spare cloth from her bundle and she grabbed one and brought it to me.

Pressing it between my legs, I said softly, “Thank you.”