Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The morning we were set to leave, the entire camp woke when it was still dark out to being dismantling the camp. The majority of the day before, I’d worked on packing up the various items I’d collected over the past six weeks—the various articles of clothing I’d made, little trinkets from the market that had been gifted to me by the vendors, my store of dried hji fruit that I obsessed over, the golden dagger that Arokan had crafted for me after our training session in the forest.

Including my deviri, I had a total of five chests that I’d packed, not including the chests I packed with my Arokan’s belongings.

Then the morning came, dark and cool. I watched as the domed voliki were dismantled with stunning efficiency and ease. I watched as the pyroki enclosures were taken apart, their metal bars and troughs packed onto one of the numerous carts that emerged. Since my help was denied with the tents, I assisted the mrikro, ensuring the pyroki were calm and tethered until our departure, while my brother watched me from the sidelines.

That morning, I was stunned how quickly the camp changed, going from a lively, populated place, to a barren, empty patch of land.

When the sun rose, we were ready to leave. The sky turned from an inky black to a blush pink. But apparently we weren’t to leave yet. The horde gathered, over a hundred members, warriors, females, children. I stood by Arokan’s side as he led a prayer of thanks to Kakkari, as an elderly Dakkari male dug handfuls of a golden granule substance from a sack and spread it over the earth where the camp had once been.

It was a calming experience, a goodbye, a thanks to the land that had provided for us during our time there.

Then, it was time to move on, to leave.

My eyes met my brother’s from across the empty clearing. The night before we left, my brother had told me he would stay with me. He wouldn’t leave me. I had been relieved and gladdened by the news, but it didn’t stop me from warning him not to do anything foolish. My husband would only be so merciful and if my brother did anything to jeopardize the horde, his punishment would be swift.

It would take time for my brother to adjust. I knew that. I was simply glad he would give the horde a chance. I was glad he would be safe, he would be fed, and he would be with me.

Arokan turned to me, breaking my gaze. I looked up at him, aware that my brother still studied us.

“We begin again, rei Morakkari,” he told me softly.

“I’m ready,” I replied.

“Are you well, Missiki?”Mirari asked, crouching over me, an alarmed look in her gaze.

When she’d seen me pull my pyroki to a sudden halt and jump off its back to dart into the covering of the forest we passed, she’d cried out and immediately followed.

“I’m fine,” I said, wiping my mouth once I was finished emptying my stomach of my morning meal.

“Here,” she said, taking a cloth of her travel satchel, and I thanked her, taking it to clean up.

I heard the quick vibrations of a pyroki approaching fast and I looked up to see Arokan. He’d been riding towards the front of the horde that morning and I’d fallen back a little to ride next to my brother and my piki. He must’ve heard Mirari’s alarmed cry and came racing towards us.

“Kalles,” he rasped, swinging off Kailon with ease to come to me. “What is wrong?”

Concern was etched into his features and I felt bad for alarming him so much. “Nothing,” I replied. “The dried meat this morning just didn’t agree with me. I feel much better now.”

He nodded hesitantly, but then said, “Come ride with me for the next stretch. Lysi?”

I nodded and he helped me up onto Kailon’s back before he swung behind me. Once Mirari was back on her pyroki and she’d tethered the one I’d been riding to her, the horde continued forward again.

“Luna,” my brother called when we passed. “What happened?”

Arokan stiffened behind me, no doubt because my brother had announced my name to the horde members within ear shot. I didn’t mind, but I knew the Dakkari were particular about given names, so I would speak with my brother about it the next time we were alone.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I’ll ride with you in a bit, alright?”

He nodded and watched us as we passed, Arokan guiding Kailon back to the front of the horde. On the way, I caught Hukan’s glare. I simply acknowledged her with an incline of my head—a sign of respect, just because she was related to my husband—but then looked away. She’d ignored me for the better part of the past few weeks and I intended to do the same. I didn’t think she would ever accept me into the horde and I didn’t want to waste energy on a lost cause.

It was the second day of travel already. From sun up to sun down, we rode at a slow pace, towards our destination. The night before, we’d camped in a small, empty clearing, laying down nothing more than pallets and furs while the warriors took shifts in watching over us. I set up my pallett by Mirari and my brother. Lavi slept near her warrior, who one day I hoped she would bind herself to, once Arokan gave him permission to take a kassikari.

It wasn’t the most comfortable, but Arokan had come to me once his shift was over and his warmth had helped lull me into a deep sleep.

Traveling with the horde was different than I’d expected. I’d expected long, drawn out days stretching from minute-to-minute, a sore backside from riding on a pyroki for the majority of that time, and restlessness.

And to some extent, those things were a reality. But I didn’t expect to enjoy it, not as much as I did.

“Are you sore?” Arokan asked me, one arm wrapping around my middle from behind as his other hand held onto Kailon’s reins.

From the pyrokis, he meant.

“It’s not as bad as before,” I told him. My time in the pyroki enclosure had helped build up my inner thighs and buttocks against their hard scales. “My brother is suffering though.”

Arokan said, “We can provide padding if he wishes.”

I shook my head, smiling. “He won’t take it. He’s almost as stubborn as you are.”

He grunted behind me, leaning forward to nip my earlobe in warning. My smile died, my breath hitching, because he knew how sensitive my ears were.

We hadn’t had sex since the night before we left camp. Going from having sex multiple times a day to nothing as we traveled with the horde was difficult.

“I miss you,” I whispered to him, turning my head to look back at him.

He growled, “Soon, kassikari. I promise.”

Time couldn’t pass soon enough.

When we took a break next,I switched back to my own pyroki and rode beside my piki and my brother towards the back of the horde train.

“How do you feel?” I asked Kivan. “Are you sure you do not want the padding?”

Just like I knew he would, he scowled and said, “No, I don’t need the padding.”

Biting back a smile, I watched his expression pull lightly as he adjusted on the pyroki.

“Regretting your decision to stay?” I couldn’t help but tease.

He shot me a look. “I will remain wherever you are, Luna,” he said, “even if it means I have to ride on these damn beasts for the rest of my life.”

I laughed, but caught Mirari’s chiding look out of the corner of my eye.

“Brother,” I said, looking at him. “There’s something you should be aware of.”

“What?” he asked, frowning, adjusting again on the pyroki.

“The Dakkari are particular about names. About who knows them,” I tried to explain.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should not use her given name for anyone’s ears,” Mirari chimed in, her tone clipped, her frown disapproving. “It is disrespectful to the Morakkari.”

Kivan’s jaw dropped as he looked from Mirari to me and back again.

“You’re joking, right?” he asked. “She’s my sister.”

“Then address her as so,” Mirari argued. “You embarrass the horde and the Vorakkar when you use her given name.”

Kivan scowled at her, “You should mind your own—”

“Enough,” I cut in, sighing. Mirari and Kivan had butted heads often during our travels, even before we’d left the camp. I didn’t know why, but it was getting tiresome.

“Luna, this is ridiculous,” Kivan argued.

Mirari’s eyes bulged in irritation and I said, before she could, “My piki is right, Brother. It is the Dakkari way. You must respect them.”

“But our way is calling someone by their name,” Kivan protested, anger flushing his cheeks. “We are not Dakkari, so why does it matter?”

“I don’t want to argue,” I said, trying to keep calm. “But you live with the horde now. You will respect them, do you understand? You may call me by my name when we are alone, but if we are not, then you will not use it.”

Kivan looked at me, his jaw clenching in frustration.

“Yes?” I said, needing to hear it.

“Fine,” Kivan said, looking towards the landscape to the left of us. Tall peaked mountains rose from the earth, more and more as we traveled south.

I sighed, exchanging a look with Mirari, before we all dropped into an uncomfortable silence. Finally, I said softly, “Are you upset with me now?”

Kivan shook his head, meeting my eyes. “No. It’s just…it’s different. Not just about the names. About you. About seeing you with him. About this all.”

I nodded, understanding what he was saying. “Sometimes different is good,” I said gently.

“I haven’t decided that yet,” he replied, stubborn as always.

Mirari made a sound in the back of her throat, like a scoff, and my brother scowled at her. They were like two petulant children with one another and I shook my head, rolling my eyes.

“What is so terrible for you?” Mirari demanded. “You are protected. You are fed. You are not dressed in those dirty rags you came in. You have your family, the Morakkari. That is the most important thing of all. Family. Yet, you complain like a spoiled youth, over and over again.”

Kivan gritted his teeth and turned away.

I cast a look at Mirari, surprised by her venom, the anger in her voice. Even Lavi, who only caught some words she recognized, looked at her with a furrowed brow.

Mirari looked down, seeming to realize that she’d gone too far. Everything she said was—to a certain extent—true, but Kivan needed time. Just like I’d needed.

“Forgive me, Missiki,” she said softly. “I did not mean…”

“Perhaps it is my brother who you should apologize to,” I said, my tone gentle. “Not me.”

Her shoulders sagged and she looked at my brother. Even though it looked like the last thing in the world she wanted to do, she forced herself to say, “Forgive me, nevretam. It is not my place to criticize you.”

Kivan looked at her, though he too seemed embarrassed by her apology.

“It is just that,” Mirari continued, looking up at me and then Lavi and then settling on my brother, “you should be grateful just to be with your family. You should not take that for granted. It is a gift.”

Kivan’s brow furrowed, sitting up straighter in his seat at her tone.

“I do not have family, you see. I have never known them, ” Mirari confessed and my heart clenched at the sadness I heard in her voice. “I was grateful when the Vorakkar accepted me into his horde, though I did not have a line, though I was simply an orphan from Dothik. I worked hard to show him I belonged and then he gives me the great honor of serving the Morakkari, though I was an outsider before.”

I frowned, reaching over to squeeze her hand, our pyrokis bumping together. I didn’t know. I didn’t know that she’d been an orphan. She’d never spoken of it.

It must be why she disliked my brother. Though he had suffered as well back in the village, he’d come into the horde with Arokan’s approval, but he had rebelled against it, had shown his displeasure readily, when Mirari had seen her acceptance into the horde as a fortunate blessing.

“So you see,” she continued, holding my brother’s gaze, “though you may not understand now, better things await you, if only you try to accept them.”

I could see Kivan processing her words. Something in his gaze changed and I knew that Mirari confessing she’d been an outsider struck something within him. He’d been an outsider too, even before I’d left.

“You are right,” he finally said softly, blowing out a breath. “I should be more grateful. I have been treated well and I have been reunited with my sister. Perhaps I should be the one asking for your forgiveness.”

Mirari blinked and then looked away. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was embarrassed, though I didn’t know why.

“Perhaps,” Mirari said lightly.

Even still, I looked at my brother, saw him looking at Mirari with a peculiar expression, as if he was just seeing her for the first time. Hope and pride made me smile. Perhaps Mirari’s words would be a turning point for him, something for him to think about. When my brother met my eyes, I nodded at him, pleased with what he said.

Then I spied something behind him, in the forest we were riding next to.

My breath hitched and the color must’ve drained from my face because Mirari asked, “Missiki, are you going to be sick again?”

The being darted behind a tree when I spotted him, but I would recognize the sheen of his grey scales, the unmistakeable curve of his razor-sharp teeth anywhere.

A Ghertun.

A scout.

He’d been watching us.