Instead, I climbed out of the bed and grabbed the pants, beginning to dress. I pulled them up and tied the sash around my waist as tight as it would go, all too aware of the intensity of his gaze. When it came time to change my tunic, I turned my back to him, pulling the one I was wearing over my head and dropping it to the ground.
It was silly to desire privacy when he had already seen my naked body.
Even still, I stiffened when I heard the chair creak as he rose. His footsteps approached as I fumbled with the clean tunic in my grip. Then I felt him brush my hair away from my back, his clawed fingertips dragging over the tops of my shoulders.
I suppressed a shiver and froze as his hand stroked just below the base of my neck.
I’d almost forgotten it was there. My brand. The Ghertun marking of three horizontal stacked lines. All their slaves were branded, even the Ghertun ones.
His hand trailed away, stroking down the line of my spine before falling away. He didn’t say anything about the brand. He only bit out, “Finish dressing.”
His tone was sharp and…angry. I didn’t hesitate in pulling the clean tunic over my head, followed quickly by the heavy boots that felt like boulders on my feet.
When I finally turned to meet his eyes, I couldn’t resist gathering the energy of my power between us and I pressed it forward. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was planning.
I felt the tendrils of his desire, but it was muted by disgust and rage. At the Ghertun, not at me.
I pulled away, shocked, and quickly lowered my head so he wouldn’t see my expression. My temple throbbed but I realized it was more fromhisemotions than the fact I’d tapped into my gift, albeit briefly.
“Vir drak,” he murmured in Dakkari. When he saw my confusion, he said, “We ride.”
* * *
There wasa storyMamanhad told us as children. A story of an ancient war, long ago. Of a place called Troy, a place in the Old World. And in that story, she’d told us of a gift horse led into the enemy’s city and within that horse were warriors, waiting to attack from within.
Mamanhad smiled as she’d recited, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth…or else you might not like what you find.”
I thought of that story as theVorakkarled me to hispyroki. It was still dark, though red streaked the sky. Another hour, I estimated, and the sun would peek over the mountain range to the west.
Coming from theDothikkar’skeep, I had the distinct impression that we were…sneaking. TheVorakkarhad been watchful as we’d left. His energy had been focused, intense. Any guards that we came across seemed to look the other way, though I’d caught the puzzled frown on one or two.
Once we made it to the stables, theVorakkarexchanged a few words with the young Dakkari boy that was half-asleep on a stool outside the door. The boy had peered up at me curiously but I’d kept my face hidden within the darkness of the hood. He probably thought me small for a Dakkari.
A moment later, the boy brought out apyroki.Hispyroki.
I recoiled in fear, stumbling back into theVorakkar’shard chest. My breath fogged out in front of me and cold stung my fingers as I stared into the creature’s reddened gaze. Just like its master’s.
The beast strode towards us on all fours, its feet tipped in massive black talons that dug into the earth, much like the Old World horse fromMaman’sstory. It had more scales than flesh, however, glittering black in the low morning light. Just like the Mad Horde King’s flesh, his beast was painted with gold, flourishing swirls leading into sharpened angles.
The written Dakkari language, one that had fascinated me ever since I’d seen it under the Dead Mountain. The GhertunsibiI was assigned to had purchased a tome from a trader at a steep price and when they went to sleep at night, sometimes I snuck to the shelf, carefully lowered the tome, and caressed its pages. I thought it beautiful.
Thepyrokichuffed out a violent breath when it saw its master behind me and theVorakkarstepped forward, taking the reins from the boy and dismissing him with a gold coin that made his dark eyes go round.
Before I knew it, the horde king turned to me, snatched me around my waist, and slung me over the beast’s back. A startled sound escaped my throat and thepyrokistomped its legs, the impact making my teeth vibrate in my mouth.
“Pyroth,” the Mad Horde King bit out to his beast, taking its snout into his wide palm and stroking softly. “Pyroth. Pevkell.”
At once, the creature calmed. I was siting, frozen across its back, my legs swung over both sides of its massive body. Even through the thick material of my pants, I could feel its heart pumping furiously against my calves.
Thepyrokididn’t like me. Not one bit.
Once theVorakkarcalmed his beast, his gaze came up to me. His jaw tightened as his eyes ran over my form and then he swung himself up behind me. Underneath the safety of my hood, my face burned when he pulled me, until my backside was nestled against his groin and his inner thighs cradled my hips.
He grunted, reaching forward to take the gold reins, his arms bracketing my body until I had nowhere to go. I was tense, frozen, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible and failing.
“Vir drak ji vorak,” he said, his deep, rough voice vibrating through me. The words weren’t meant for me, however. They were meant for hispyroki,who started into motion at its master’s command.
I couldn’t contain the startled squeal that escaped my throat as thepyrokibolted into a run. The stables were on the edges ofDothikand had their own exit out onto theDothikkar’sroad and, by extension, the plains beyond. Thepyrokihad bolted into a furious sprint towards the gates and when it saw they were closed, that the guards stationed there had not opened them in time, thepyrokicame to a sudden stop, kicking up dust and nearly throwing me off its back had the horde king behind me not caught my waist in time.
