Perhaps a part of me still recognized her oath to me. That she wasmine.
Lo rune tei’ri, Vorakkar.
That ancient vow ran deep, stroking instincts inside me I hadn’t even known existed. I remembered therightnessat hearing those words escape her lips, the maelstrom they had unleashed within me and theneedI’d felt for her in those moments in the fog.
“Who struck you?” I growled.
Chapter Eleven
The horde king had a fist-sized wound in his shoulder and he looked…angry? Forme?
Without thinking, I reached forward to touch the fabric of his tunic—a thick, dark hide—and my fingers came away hot with black blood. I was crouching beside him since they’d moved his position within the room. Now his hands were bound behind his back, the cuffs securing him against one of the thick, rocky columns that supported the stone table’s weight. He was slouched against it, his long bare legs stretched out in front of him.
Without a word, I dragged the basin of water over. Just like last night, I lifted it, struggling slightly under its weight as I brought it to his lips.
The horde king turned his head to the side. Those red eyes bit into me as he growled, “Tell me who struck you,sarkia.”
“Drink,” I told him.
He held my gaze and I didn’t understand his fury. My patience was thin that night, however. I was tired from the day. And I’d already helped patch up a few men from their encounter with the male in front of me. Jos’ arm, however, had been beyond my capabilities. Jacques had held Jos down while Shayna and Emmi set the bone. I swore I could still hear his screams echo around the Dead Mountain even now.
“How do you say ‘stubborn male’ in Dakkari?” I asked, my tone hardening.
His gaze flashed. Again, a peculiar expression came over his face. Like he was trying to read me, trying to figure me out.
“So she has claws,” he murmured, the chains rattling behind him as he shifted. “Dull ones. So soft they wouldn’t even break human flesh, much less mine.”
I dragged in a deep, steadying breath. I lowered the basin into his lap because my arms were about to give out. The lingerings of my bad mood had followed me even here. And perhaps I should think twice about giving this horde king my temper because I’d seen what he’d done to fully grown men while he was cuffed and chained and weaponless.
So why didn’t I fear him?
Why didn’t I fear beinghere?
And when I thought about Benn catching me, when I thought about what he might do to me…I only felt a dull throb of indifference.
Pain was pain. I’d felt it all my life. We all had. And I would continue to feel it, perhaps every day for the rest of my existence on this planet.
I better get used to it then, I thought.
I believed I already was.
Briefly, I looked down at my fingers, long and bony, leading to bitten nails. No claws there. Not like his at least.
“Does it hurt?” I whispered.
In the basin of water perched in his lap, I could see his reflection. He was still gazing at me and I saw his lips pull down at my question.
“I’ve been wounded like this before,” he murmured. His voice hardened. “Though not with my own sword.”
Dragging over the clean cloth I’d brought with me, I told him, “Last chance to drink.”
His head tilted back, leaning the back of it against the column of the table, exposing his golden throat. We stared at one another for a long moment and finally, he inclined his head subtly.
Dropping the cloth into my lap, I brought the basin up to his lips again. He tilted forward and I watched his lips as they parted, remembering them well. I swallowed, ignoring the spark of uncomfortable desire, shifting on my knees a little, just as he got a mouthful.
I helped him drink until half of the water was gone and then I set it down in front of me.
“I—I brought you some food too,” I whispered, feeling a little shame when I hesitated in telling him. Pulling out the wrapped bundle I’d stuffed into the pocket of my dress, I opened the cloth to show him a single strip ofrikcrunmeat, no larger than my middle finger.
