Captive of the Horde King by Zoey Draven

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Water?” Jriva asked, the young boy sounding out the word slowly. Working with me at the pyroki pen, he’d picked up a few universal tongue words, water being one of them.

“Nik,” I said, smiling, reaching out to ruffle his hair, just like I did with my brother. The boy grinned. “Tei runi.”

You go.

Jriva was due for a break. The mrikro still had a cough from the journey—due to the dry weather in the southlands and the dirt he’d inhaled along the way—and the elderly Dakkari decided to rest that day in his tent, at the instructions of the healer. So it was just Jriva and I working in the enclosure.

I watched the young boy nod and then exit out the gate, running towards the front of the camp where the water barrels were kept. Knowing Jriva, he would probably try his chance at charming some bveri meat or some of the kuveri sweet bread from the cooks while he was there.

Alone with the pyroki, I blew out a long breath and wiped at some of the sweat on my forehead. That morning, I’d gotten a late start due to morning sickness. It had reared its head the past couple mornings, leaving me tired and pale. Arokan had stayed with me longer than he should’ve that morning, worried, hovering over me as I emptied my stomach into the chamber pot.

He did not like seeing me sick. He’d sent for the healer and she’d mixed together a tea, which had helped settle my stomach. After an hour resting in bed, I couldn’t stand another moment in the tent, so I’d gone to the pyroki pen, though Arokan had protested.

I wouldn’t be cooped up in the tent for the duration of my pregnancy, so I would simply push past any discomfort. Morning sickness was temporary, but the satisfaction I felt working was lasting.

A short distance away, I saw Kivan hard at work too. Since Arokan said he had a proclivity for crops—considering he’d burned the earth in order to enrich it—Kivan was planting purple Dakkari grain, which would be harvestable in just a few months, even with the cold season coming. I didn’t know how long we would remain in the southlands, but Arokan seemed to think long enough to grow a small field of crops.

Kivan caught my eye and I gave him a little wave. He nodded, giving me a small grin I hadn’t seen in a long time, and went back to digging out a watering trench for the field.

The sun was low in the sky, casting deep golden rays. In the distance, I heard the laughter of a Dakkari child. Even from the pyroki enclosure, I smelled the delicious aroma of warm spiced meat and simmering broth, wafting from the front of the camp. There would be a communal meal that night to celebrate our new home and it was the perfect, peaceful evening for one. I was looking forward to it.

Hukan emerged from between two tents, coming into sight, two baskets looped around her arms. Her eyes sought me out in the pen and then she they turned to my two guards.

In Dakkari, she addressed them and I watched them exchange looks before gazing over at me.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, approaching the fence of the enclosure, brow furrowed.

“Nik, Morakkari,” Hukan said, inclining her head, when my eyes met hers. “I was wondering if you would help me.”

“With what?” I asked.

“The females need fresh kuveri for the grand meal tonight. Many of them and quickly. I fear I cannot gather enough on my own, so I would like to request your help.”

My eyes turned to the black vine forest before returning to her, biting my lip. I was reminded that our relationship was still precarious. Her coming to me for help was surely another step in the right direction, wasn’t it?

I nodded, exiting the enclosure. “Of course,” I said, taking one of the baskets from her when she offered it to me. “I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you, Morakkari,” she said. “I am grateful.”

As we turned into the forest, my guards followed, though, like always, they stayed a respectful distance away. It was my first time stepping foot inside and I found that when my eyes adjusted to the darkness, it wasn’t as frightening as I thought it would be. Curious, as we walked further and further into the darkness, I passed my hand over the black vines and they felt smooth and soft beneath my palm.

“They make a good broth base,” Hukan told me when she noticed me eyeing them. “Very rich. Very nutritious. And inside, they have edible seeds, though you must boil them first.”

“It seems everything can be used for something,” I commented, looking around as Hukan led us deeper inside.

“It is the way of the Dakkari,” she told me, walking next to me. “To be wasteful is an insult to Kakkari. And if we take something, we must replenish it.”

“Is that what those golden seeds were for before we left the old camp?” I questioned. “To replenish?”

“Lysi,” she said. “Seeds that will produce food for the next horde or the next herd of animals that passes through. You get and then you give. Even during your tassimara, there were seeds planted in every lantern, so wherever they landed, wherever Kakkari’s wind took them, they would flourish and provide.”

My lips parted. “Really?”

I’d never known. I remembered the glowing lanterns lifting into the sky that night, twinkling like stars. I thought that…wonderful.

“Lysi, it is tradition. It is the Dakkari way.”

I’d heard that more times than not…the Dakkari way.

“Even the southlands,” Hukan continued, stepping over a fallen vine, “are evidence of this.”

I saw her look over her shoulder, at my guards, as I asked, “How so?”

She didn’t answer. At least not right away. We walked deeper and deeper so that even when I turned, I could no longer see the warm glow of the camp.

“The kuveri grow this far inside?” I asked, getting a little nervous with the darkness, though I hid it as best as I could. “There’s hardly any light. It’s a wonder that they grow at all.”

“They thrive best in darkness,” she replied and after a few more minutes of walking, she said, “Here we are.”

There was a small grove of kuveri berries, growing on grey, bushy, wild plants at the base of the stones the black vines grew on.

“Let us hurry, Morakkari,” Hukan said, already plucking some of the berries off and dropping them into her basket. “The grand meal grows near.”

I nodded and helped her pick the little fruits off the nearest bush.

“Thank you for bringing the sweet bread yesterday,” I commented after a little while had passed, once a quarter of my basket was filled. “It was delicious.”

Hukan inclined her head. After another moment, she said, “I always enjoy when the horde comes through the southlands. It is bountiful here, is it not?”

“It certainly seems so,” I said.

“Perhaps because there are no outsider settlements anywhere near here,” she commented. “They are the opposite of Dakkari. Wasteful, all-consuming. They do not care of the destruction they leave behind. They only take.”

My hand paused in plucking a berry off the bush. My eyes flashed up to her but her expression seemed innocent enough. “Human settlements, you mean?” I questioned slowly.

“Lysi,” she said immediately. She looked up at me, her green-rimmed eyes contracting on me. “Oh but you are not human anymore, are you, Morakkari? I meant no offense.”

Yes, she did,my gut told me. She’d meant to say that, had said it purposefully to hurt me, to draw a clear line between us. Dakkari and human. In her eyes, I would never be Dakkari, despite her words.

Inhaling a long breath through my nostrils, I didn’t want to give up. I didn’t want to go back to ignoring the other’s existence because it made things awkward around camp, around Arokan.

Brow furrowing, I said carefully, “Hukan…I want there to be peace between us. For Arokan’s sake. He cares for you deeply. I know you have never liked me. I know you think Arokan can do better than me.”

She paused in plucking as well, turning to look at me with an unreadable expression. There was a familiar flickering in her gaze which made dread pool in my belly, which made me think that once again, we were back to where we’d been before. I wondered why it had reversed so quickly.

“But he chose me,” I said, steeling my voice, needing her to understand. Softly, I confessed to her words I had not even told Arokan yet. “I love him. And I believe he loves me too. I am his queen and I am not going anywhere, no matter what you—”

I heard rustling and quick footsteps behind me. I heard the hiss of a blade and I spun around, my heart pounding in my chest, knowing that something was wrong.

In disbelief, I saw two Ghertun hovering over the still bodies of my guards. They were on the ground, blood pooling from daggers sticking from their sides. The Ghertun had snuck up from behind. They’d never even had time to draw their swords.

My basket of kuveri dropped to the forest floor and I gasped, backing away, their slitted eyes directly on me.

“Hukan,” I said softly, swallowing past the lump in my throat, my eyes going to the daggers imbedded in my guards’ side. If only I could get to one. “We must—”

I turned around, only to find three more Ghertun standing behind Hukan. My eyes widened in alarm.

“Watch out!”

She didn’t move and avoided me when I reached for her.

The Ghertun didn’t make a move towards her.

“This is her?” one of them asked, that raspy, slithering voice making bumps break over my flesh.

“Lysi,” Hukan replied, her eyes cold, her jaw set. She turned from me, looking at the Ghertun over her shoulder. She wore an expression of disgust as she regarded him, her lips pressing together. “You said you would not kill the warriors.”

“H-Hukan,” I whispered in shock. Then anger enveloped me, rage that made my hands shake. She’d betrayed Arokan, betrayed me, betrayed the horde. And now two innocent Dakkari were dead because of it.

“Hurry and take her away,” Hukan snapped at them. “Before he realizes she is missing.”

Realization flooded me and without another moment of hesitation, I turned on my heel and tried to run.

Only to be caught by the two Ghertun that had killed my guards. I struggled in their arms, jabbing my elbows anywhere I could, trying to turn my head to bite them. All they did was let out a disgusting sound resembling a laugh.

“Remember our agreement,” Hukan said, her tone cold. “You never harm another member of the horde, never come close to our camp, or the Vorakkar again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, female,” one of them hissed, the leader. He approached me, brushing past Hukan. I smelled his rancid breath, felt the heat of it brush my cheek, as he said, “Our king will find her quite…amusing. An enemy horde king’s bride. We will be rewarded greatly.”

Hukan’s jaw clenched and she looked away from me.

And I realized there was only one thing left to do. I just prayed someone would hear me.

I dragged in a deep breath, about to scream as loud as I could.

“Arok—!”

The Ghertun’s fist struck out. I felt pain explode at my temple.

Then the world went dark.