Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven
Chapter Seventeen
Arokan froze.
A murmur went through the horde.
Though I heard warning bells in my head, I descended the dais, that pendant bobbing on my chest.
“There has to be another way,” I said, reaching out to touch Arokan’s arm, the arm in which he held the sword.
Slowly, he turned to face me and I knew I fucked up from his expression alone. As if the shocked faces of the kneeling Dakkari, as if the guards surrounding the Ghertun weren’t exchanging looks or slightly lowering their swords didn’t tell me so already.
“Neffar?” Arokan hissed at me, turning his back to the Ghertun. He loomed in front of me, so tall and broad that he blocked some of the sunlight, that I had to crane my neck up to look at him.
“Please, don’t do this. An execution? For a crime he hasn’t committed?” I cried out. “All he is guilty of is being found near the camp. Is that enough to kill him for?”
“You are untainted, nekkar,” Arokan said, though his tone was low and dangerous. I flinched. He’d never called me nekkar before, which I now knew meant human. “You do not know anything.”
“But he is—”
“Enough,” Arokan hissed. “Do not dare to challenge my—”
A cry of surprise tore through one of the guards and before I knew it, I heard the heavy rattle of chains.
Arokan swung back around, pushing me back to protect me with enough force that I fell on my backside, my elbow hitting the ground hard when I tried to break my fall.
I watched in horror as the Ghertun scout—who had managed to tear his chains from the guard’s grip, though the collar around his neck seemed bloodied for it—swiped out his sharp claws at the nearest Dakkari warrior, raking them down his thigh. The warrior cried out in pain and fell to one knee as dark blood began to well up.
It had all happened so fast that it left the guards momentarily stunned, giving the Ghertun enough time to jump up from his crouched position, so fast he was a blur, and begin to sprint away, back towards the forest.
He didn’t make it far.
With a bellow, Arokan slammed the tip of his sword into the long chain that trailed behind the Ghertun, through one of the links. The gold sword rung and vibrated when it caught and the Ghertun gasped out a croaking breath when his neck jerked, choked by the collar, and fell with a heavy thud to the earth on his back.
Frozen, I watched as Arokan tore his sword from the earth, from the chain link, with a growl and stalked towards the scout.
“No, horde king,” the Ghertun choked out, his hands flailing in front of him when Arokan loomed close. “I didn’t mean to—please have mercy on—”
Arokan cut the Ghertun’s head away from his shoulders with one smooth, fast arc of his sword, right above the chained collar. It was so cleanly done, so expertly done, that the green blood didn’t appear for a few long, shocked moments.
I stared at the decapitated Ghertun, my blood rushing in my ears, even as it drained from my face.
Then my gaze trailed from the grotesque head that had rolled across the earth to Arokan, standing just above the still body.
The horde king was looking at me with an expression I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the meaning of.
Disbelief and horror made my stomach clench as I stared back at him.
That was when I heard the Dakkari warrior—the one who the Ghertun had attacked, because of me—groan in pain. I jerked my head over to him, saw that a Dakkari female was hovering over him, trying to stop the bleeding.
I tried to speak, tried to apologized, but the words were lodged in my throat, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.
Beyond that sight was the sight of the horde. All still kneeling, as shocked about the turn of events as I was. Most were looking at me, still splayed out on the cool earth.
I caught Hukan’s gaze. Her lips were pressed together, her expression knowing, like I’d just confirmed all her thoughts about me.
You’re an imposter, not fit to be queen, she told me with her eyes. She was almost smug about it.
Arokan approached, sheathing his blade at his hip. Reaching out, he tugged me up into a standing position, though I swayed on my feet and my elbow gave a throb of pain.
He handed me off to one of the guards who hadn’t been attacked.
“Take her away,” he ordered, then seemed to realize he spoke in the universal tongue. In Dakkari, he repeated his orders and the guard inclined his head, taking my arm and leading me from the clearing.
My breath hitched and I looked back to the injured guard. “Wait, will he be—”
“I will deal with you later,” Arokan rasped, his dark eyes on me. Then he turned his back, going to kneel next to the guard on the ground.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes but I looked forward and allowed the guard to lead me back towards the tent.
Now you’ve really made a mess of things, Luna, I told myself quietly, that heavy blood red pendant pressing against my chest.
