What didthatmean?
I was just about to protest again, but then bit my tongue. It was inevitable, just like my eventual relations with the horde king, whose name I still did not know.
Be brave,I told myself,and endure.
A thought occurred to me suddenly.
I would fulfill my promise and maybe when the horde king eventually tired of me, he would allow me to return to my village, to Kivan. Perhaps if I pleased him enough, he would take mercy on me and consider my debt paid.
I knew the likelihood of that was slim. Mithelda once again crossed my mind. She had never returned to our village, though there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she’d been taken for the same purpose as the horde king had taken me for.
Shoulders sagging, I let them undress me without a fight. Truthfully, I was too tired to fight them, too sore.
Guilt filled me when I slid into the bathing tub…because it was wonderful and because Kivan, nor anyone in my village, would ever experience anything like it. A moan of surprise left my throat, which embarrassed me, because I’d never felt water that hot, never felt the way it could relax aching muscles and envelop me like a warm, comforting blanket.
Pain seared me as well, however. My inner thighs were chafed and raw from riding for hours on end and it stung like hell when the water soothed over the wounds.
I tensed when the two females knelt next to the bathing tub with cloths in their hands. They lathered them with soap, but I said quickly, “I can do that,” when they closed in.
As expected, they ignored me. With thorough strokes that left my cheeks flaming, they washed me from head-to-toe with efficiency, even scrubbing underneath my fingernails and toenails. They washed my dark hair twice with soap and I saw how quickly the water turned brown from dirt and dust.
One of the females suddenly yelled something towards the tent flaps, making me jump.
“Up,” she told me and wrapped me in a large fur blanket. “The water needs to be changed.”
“I’m clean,” I protested.
“Nik, the water needs to be changed. Look at the color.”
And so, I stood as the tub was carried out by three Dakkari males this time, returned once they tossed out the dirty water, and watched with a tight throat as more hot basins of water were brought in.
Such a waste.
Once the bathing tub was full again, the female ordered me back inside and I went through another scrubbing. The water remained clear, however, and I let out a little sigh of relief.
“Do you ache from thepyroki?” the female suddenly asked.
I met her eyes. They were so dark I could see the reflections of the candles in them. The other female still hadn’t spoken a word to me yet.
“Thepy…pyroki?” I asked, the word feeling strange on my tongue.
“You are raw here,” she noted, reaching beneath the water with her cloth to touch my inner thighs.
Realization dawned on me. “Thepyrokiare those creatures?”
Her eyes narrowed when I saidcreaturesbut she said, “Lysi.Pyroki.”
Lysimust meanyes, I decided.
“I’ve never ridden one before,” I told her softly, “or anything like it.”
“Your body will adjust in time,” she told me simply. “Dip your head again.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I couldn’t help but ask when I resurfaced, catching her gaze. Did all of the horde king’s whores—of which I was certain he had more than one—receive this kind of attention?
She blinked at the question, her eyelids painted gold. “TheVorakkarhas tasked us with your care,” was all she would say.
Not a moment later, the tent flap pushed back, the horde king in question appearing.
