Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Nineteen

Mirari watched me from outside the open pen enclosure with something akin to horror on her face.

“Missiki, please,” she begged for the hundredth time. “This is not fitting for you. Not for a Morakkari.”

I huffed and blew a strand away from my face. Though the air was cool, I felt a drop of sweat run down my back, and my arms trembled slightly as I hefted yet another pile of pyroki shit with my shovel and threw it into what I called the Shit Corner.

A young Dakkari boy—whose given name was Jriva—was elbow deep in the Shit Corner, sifting through the pyroki excrement. Though he didn’t speak the universal tongue, Mirari had translated for him when he said that they used the shit as fuel and to enrich their soil in Dothik and throughout other outposts around Dakkar. He told me his job was important, that he took great pride in it.

The boy seemed happy with my presence. He was no older than ten and had told Mirari to tell me that one day he would be a horde warrior. He would prove himself to the Vorakkar—to my husband—with his strength and protect the horde and his family.

He’d beamed up at me as he said it, as Mirari translated, though he was surrounded by pyroki filth. I couldn’t help but admire his tenacity, for someone so young. He reminded me a lot of Kivan, which had struck a chord of longing and loneliness inside me.

Mirari was fisting her hands on her dress. “Careful of your slippers, Missiki,” she called. “They were just crafted, especially for you.”

It didn’t matter. I was obeying the Vorakkar. That morning, I allowed myself to be dressed in another skimpy outfit and then I’d walked myself over to the pyroki pen with my chin held high, though I felt the eyes of the horde on me.

After much reflection yesterday and a long night in an empty bed, I’d come to realize that Arokan had been right. I was a queen now and I needed to act like it. I needed to integrate myself into horde life and win over his people.

If that meant getting dirty in pyroki shit and humbling myself before the horde, I would do it. Arokan told me I was Dakkari now. And, despite what Mirari said, I wasn’t above doing dirty work just because my husband was the Vorakkar. I’d worked hard all my life. I wasn’t about to stop now.

So, in response to Mirari’s concern, I kicked off the sandals and threw them over the low gates of the enclosure, right next to her.

Her shoulders sagged. “That is not what I meant, Missiki. Now look at your feet!”

Unlike Mirari, Lavi seemed positively gleeful watching me. Her eyes twinkled with delight and amusement as she stood next to Mirari.

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I blew out another breath, eyeing a pyroki, which had ventured close to me. Those red eyes watched me and it tossed its neck, stamping its four feet on the earth, when I shoveled yet another pile into the corner.

Somehow, I’d managed to forget how absolutely terrifying they were, how massive they were. And while my hands had been shaking on the shovel for the first hour I’d been in the pen with them, they were now steady. Mostly, they ignored me, which gave me confidence.

Many of the pyroki were gone. Arokan had taken out half of the horde warriors with him to hunt down the Ghertun pack and their pyroki had gone with them.

An elderly male, who hadn’t given me his name, was in charge of the pen. He looked over at Jriva and I from the troughs he was filling with fresh water, his eyes assessing our progress. Unlike Jriva, he spoke the universal tongue and when I told him that I wanted a job at the pen, he’d told me to clean it out, despite Mirari’s immediate protests.

“If the Morakkari wishes to work with the pyroki, then she must start where I did,” he’d replied to Mirari, his tone unyielding and strong.

He’d expected me to balk and turn away. He’d expected me to leave, I saw that in his dismissive gaze. Despite my title, I didn’t have his respect. I didn’t have the respect of many of the horde after yesterday’s events.

So, he was surprised when I tied back my freshly washed and brushed hair and asked for a shovel. He handed me one hesitantly and I steeled my spine and I went to work.

“If the Vorakkar sees you doing this,” Mirari said again, “he will not be pleased.”

“Mirari,” I hissed. “Enough.”

Wisely, she closed her mouth, but she still eyed the large piles of excrement that I had to shovel. It would take me most of the afternoon.

Her shoulders sagged and then she walked to the entrance of the pen, snagging another shovel from where they were lined against the enclosure.

“What are you doing?” I asked, straightening.

“I cannot allow you to work here all afternoon,” Mirari said, tucking her long skirt up into her waistband, leaving her long legs exposed. “I will help.”

“Mirari, you don’t have to do that. This is my task.”

“I am your piki,” she simply replied, scrunching her nose when she stepped into the pen.

A little bloom of affection and gratitude for her opened in my chest as I watched her shovel a nearby pile. I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile from my face at her look of disgust.

Lavi seemed even more thrilled to watch Mirari, who bit out something in Dakkari at her when she saw the other piki grinning. Whatever she said made Lavi’s smile die and she, too, after a moment’s hesitation, slouched into the pen to help.

Jriva laughed in his Shit Corner as the three of us shoveled and any passing Dakkari looked at us in bewilderment, even lingering to watch before continuing on their way.

Once most of the pen was cleared, the pyroki master came over and dismissed us.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I informed him, wiping my forearm over my brow.

The news seemed to displease him but he didn’t argue with me. Instead he said, “Lysi, Morakkari.”

We walked the short distance back to my tent, my two assigned guards trailing behind us, and I wiped my feet at the entrance before turning to the piki. “You can go for the day and wash and rest. If I need you, I’ll send for you.”

Mirari shook her head and said, “We will help you wash.”

“I can bathe myself,” I told her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Go.”

Hesitantly, Mirari inclined her head, addressed Lavi in Dakkari, and then turned and left.

My bath from that morning was still inside the tent, though the water was cool. I undressed and slid inside, sighing. The cold water actually felt good after sweating in that pen and I scrubbed myself thoroughly before stepping out and dressing in my pants and tunic.

Not a moment afterwards, one of the guards called out, “Morakkari.”

“Lysi?” I called out, frowning.

The tent flap pushed in, but it wasn’t my scarred guard that came through the entrance.

It was Hukan.

I straightened, still frowning. What was she doing here?

“Morakkari,” she greeted, her tone careful. “I have come to check on your markings.”

I blinked, my eyes straying to my uncovered wrists. I didn’t trust that was why she came, but I knew I couldn’t turn her away. She was Arokan’s family, had very likely saved his life when he was a boy.

I nodded and she approached, reaching out her hands to clasp my wrists, peering down at them closely, turning me this way and that way.

“Human flesh is delicate, I see,” she commented.

My lips pressed together but wisely stayed silent.

She glanced up at me, the green ring of her eyes contracting as she studied me. Arokan didn’t look anything like her, except for the black color of their hair. Arokan’s skin was darker, more golden, and his features were broad and masculine.

“It was foolish what you did yesterday,” she murmured.

I gritted my teeth and tugged my wrists from her grip. “I already know that. I knew that the moment I saw your face in the crowd,” I admitted to her.

“I do not particular care for you,” Hukan said.

I huffed out a laugh. “I hadn’t guessed.”

“However, Arokan does, for whatever reason,” she continued, her lips twisting in an expression of distaste.

I looked at her, surprised. “Why did you come here, Hukan? Really? And don’t say to check my markings because we both know that’s a lie.”

“I came to give you advice.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Arokan already spoke to me about what—”

“You have a big heart,” she said, which made my brow furrow in further surprise. However, the way she said it made it seem like an insult, not a compliment. “You wished to save his life. But that big heart will not win over any Dakkari, especially in regards to a Ghertun.”

Inhaling a sharp breath, I said, “Arokan told me what happened. To his father and his mother. Your sister.”

Hukan’s eyes flashed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “And you’re right, what I did yesterday was foolish. I understand that now. A guard was injured because of me and I may have lost the respect of the horde.”

“You were not born to lead,” she said, twisting that knife in my chest. “Arokan was. He was born for this. He must make the ugly decisions that no one else wants to make. He needs a strong queen at his side, who brings strength, not failure, to the horde.”

“I realize that,” I said slowly, holding her gaze.

“I can help you get back to your village.”

My breath left me. Stunned, I whispered, “What?”

“I can arrange a guide for you, to take you there,” Hukan said, her jawline as hard as stone. “You will only drag him down. The best decision is if you left and never came back.”

Disbelief and anger made my tongue knot.

“You must leave right now though,” Hukan continued. “I can distract the guards. You can meet my guide in the forest. You can be back in your village this very night.”

“Get out,” I rasped.

“Neffar?” Hukan asked, surprised. “I am offering you what you want. Take it. You can leave before Arokan returns from the hunt.”

“I said get out,” I repeated, my tone low.

Her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t care what you think of me,” I said. “But one thing you should know is that I never go back on my word. I promised myself to Arokan and it’s a promise I intend to keep. For the rest of my life.”

Hukan’s expression darkened.

“Leave now,” I said. “Don’t speak to me again unless absolutely necessary and I won’t tell Arokan about this, about how you planned to betray him by sneaking me away.”

“One day,” Hukan hissed, “he will ask me to send you away. When that day comes, I will rejoice.”

I bit my tongue, trying to keep my temper in check, and watched her spin and leave the tent without another word.

I brought a shaking hand up to my lips, anger enveloping me, though I tried to see reason. She was his blood relation. She was only trying to do what she thought was best for him.

But that didn’t matter.

I was his wife, his queen.

Act like it, Arokan had told me. He’d told me I was strong. He hadn’t even hesitated when I’d voiced my insecurities that I wasn’t strong enough.

But I was also human. Hukan accused me of having a big heart, but I wouldn’t be ashamed of that. I wouldn’t let her get to me.

So I didn’t care if I had to shovel pyroki shit for the rest of my life. I would do it.

Marching over to the tent’s entrance, I stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight and looked at the scarred guard, who I knew spoke the universal tongue. I didn’t ask. A queen didn’t ask.

Instead, I demanded, “Take me to the warrior who was injured yesterday.”