At least no one died. That much I could be thankful for.
“There are Killup under the Dead Mountain,” I murmured. “Also slaves.”
“Do you speak to them?” he asked. “Know them?”
“No,” I said, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His warmth seeped into me and though I’d just slept for two days, I felt like I could close my eyes again. “We aren’t allowed. But I fell once while I was delivering something to anothersibi. I’d been awake all night and was weak. Their Killup helped me up, though she was punished for it. She didn’t have to but she helped me.”
My voice sounded far away as anguish made my chest burn. They’d beat her for touching me and I’d stood there trying not to cry. Mysibihad very rarely punished me but that Killup had had dark bruises running all along her grey flesh. It made me sick to think about. I never saw her again. Afterwards, it had always shamed me that I hadn’t tried to help her, even if I would’ve been punished too. It haunted me that I’d only stood there, silently. Like a coward.
“Sibi?” he asked quietly.
“A household,” I murmured, still thinking of the Killup. “Higher classsibihave slaves.”
He made a huffing sound deep in his throat but before I could curse myself for telling him something like that, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
I angled my gaze up at him, frowning. “You aren’t going to interrogate me onsibi?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. I didn’t look away from his lips when he said, “I have already learned that you will tell me whatever you wish to…and nothing that I want to know.”
My lips parted.
“I do know that you have not eaten in almost two days and that you must be hungry.”
He was…surprising.
Three times now, I’d delved into his mind but only twice had I gone deep into those emotions that burned through him like fire. I realized that I’d never had the need to alter anyone’s emotionstwice. Once was enough and those that I did it to I usually never saw again.
However, I’d pushed into this horde king’s mind to experience his emotions multiple times now and I wondered what the consequences of that would be.
Because everything always had a price.
Turning my gaze from him, I looked at the landscape, tensing a little in his arms. To the east, I saw the unmistakable shadow of the Dead Mountain. We had entered the mountainous region of Dakkar. Sharp pillars of stone rose around us, like large daggers that had been thrust into the earth. Some were wider than others, some were so thin that I thought they would crumble with a stiff breeze.
An inkling of foreboding ran through me. The pillars only grew more numerous. The Dead Lands were littered with them.
“Your horde is so close to the Ghertun. Why settle them out here?”
“Ungira,” he rasped.
I didn’t know what that meant.
“This is where they live after the frost. They mate through the cold season and their numbers need to be culled.”
Soungirawere a type of game.
“I don’t understand the Dakkari sometimes,” I said softly, peering around a pillar as we passed.
He grunted.
“You don’t allow humans to hunt because you say it takes from Kakkari. But you are allowed to do it?”
His nostrils flared, his gaze cutting to me. “When the Nrunteng settled here, they huntedopiril. You will never see one though. They hunted them to extinction, wiped out an entire species over the course offour years, though theopirilhad been around since our beginning.”
I bit my lip.
“Whenvekkiriarrived, one of the first villages wiped out a small herd ofwrissanthat were meant to grow through the warmer season to feed my horde,” he rasped.
“You were aVorakkareven when the first humans arrived?” I asked, surprised. How old was he? And when had he become aVorakkar?
