Gone was the dark filth that had covered her from head to toe. She’d coated her hair in something blackened before—my fingers had come away dark when I’d rubbed the strands between my fingers last night—but the bath revealed shiningwhitehair, swaying to the middle of her back, wet tendrils clinging to her cheeks. Her skin was pale, almost translucent against the dark fur cloak Rath Kitala had given her, which she held close to her flesh, her lips pink from the warmth of the bath.
And her eyes. They seemed brightened,luminous.
I had never seen a being like her before. I’d seen plenty of humans in my time asVorakkar, but never one like her. And it wasn’t only her haunting beauty, or the color of her hair. It was in the way she was so frightened she could collapse, it was in the way her voice shook and trembled as she delivered her message…and yet, she remained firm and resolute. Brave.
That unsettled feeling in my gut returned, one I’d felt last night as I’d stared down into those widened eyes. Then came a stirring in my chest. An awakening. A decision.
I want her.
The thought came fierce and possessive and unexpected. It caught me off guard and when I felt a dull throb of pain, I realized I’d embedded my claws completely into theDothikkar’stable.
It was more than simplewant,however. I wanted her,lysi. But I also wanted to protect her. I wanted toconsumeher, taking her into me so deep that I might finally find the peace I so desperately sought. I was called the Mad Horde King for a reason.
It wasn’t about her. It was about me. I’d always been a selfish bastard. If I hadn’t been, I may never have becomeVorakkar. I may never have been able to successfully lead my horde. And I certainly wouldn’t have been able to protect them. I’d failed my family. I’d failed my sister and my mother and my father…but I had never failed my horde.
So much was swirling in my mind that I’d almost forgotten her words, spoken so softly they’d almost been a whisper.
TheDothikkarrecovered more quickly than theVorakkarsseated around his table.
“What message?” he sputtered, his brow lowering, his expression darkening. “What message could avekkiripossibly have from a nameless king, who presumes himself to be one onmyland?”
Her fingers were clutching the furs around her shoulders tightly.
“Lozza wants access to theTerugulch,” she continued.
“Neffar?” theDothikkarasked. Then, just as suddenly, he burst into laughter, the sound wheezing out from his lungs, booming so loudly it made her flinch.
“He wants free passage across Drukkar’s Sea,” Vienne continued, as if theDothikkar’s laugh wasn’t drowning out her words. “Whenever he wishes, in addition to a ship of his own, so that he may reach the ice caps even during the hot season.”
TheDothikkar’slaugh died down. In its place was fury, morphing so quickly that it almost mademeraise a brow.
I eyed Vienne, tilting my head as I studied her.
Who was she?Andwhywas she speaking for a Ghertun, a Ghertunkingno less, whom we’d only heard rumors of?
TheVorakkarof Rath Kitala, who stood in front of Vienne, asked, “And if the demands are not met?”
The humanvekkiri, who was surrounded by Dakkari males twice her size, and an enragedDothikkar, tilted her chin slightly, though her bottom lip trembled.
Bravekalles,I thought. Those words felt like a purr in my mind.
“Lozza will send his army from the Dead Lands. He will destroy everything in his path and lead them here, toDothik,where he will overrun the city.”
“Madness,” theDothikkarrasped out, walking the short distance to his throne on top of his gilded dais, where he sat, as if he needed to remind every being in the room of his power, of his position. “Absolute madness.”
TheVorakkarof Rath Tuviri, with his golden hair and understanding eyes, stood and regarded Vienne.
“Who are you,kalles?” he asked, his voice soft, keeping still when she eyed him as warily as she’d eyed me. “How did you come to be a messenger for the Ghertun?”
“I am no one,” she said, repeating what she’d told me last night when I’d asked her much the same question. “I am a slave under the Dead Mountain. Lozza tasked me with this.”
A slave?I thought.
“A sorceress,” theDothikkarmuttered from his throne.
I watched as theVorakkarsexchanged glances. TheDothikkarwas a superstitious male. He had Rath Tuviri’s mother in his harem, after all, because he believed her golden hair was a gift from Kakkari herself.
There was a story, an ancient one, of a white-haired Dakkari female who had single-handedly destroyed a horde with a frightening power. It was said she’d been possessed by the wrath of our goddess Kakkari when the horde’sVorakkarkilled his bastard child, not born from the womb of his chosenMorakkaribut from the womb of a warrior’s wife. He’d murdered in secret, wanting to hide his shame—but Kakkari had known and the white-haired sorceress had channeled her rage, her power.
