She was speaking of the ban placed on all species except the Dakkari. All who sought refuge on Dakkar. It had been an agreement with the Uranian Federation, though it only served to feather theDothikkar’sgilded halls. It wasus—the hordes—that witnessed the suffering instead.
“That is only a law of theDothikkar.”
“Your king?” she whispered, frowning. “But it’s not one of yours?”
There wereVorakkarstill loyal to the king, who would uphold his laws without hesitation.
And while I was known to be unyielding and, at times, merciless, I was not one of them, unless my horde was threatened.
Then I would do whatever I could to protect them—and not even Kakkari could stand in my way.
When she realized I wasn’t going to answer her, she asked instead, “How is your shoulder?”
I grunted. “Healing.”
She leaned closer to inspect it. “It’s still bleeding.”
“Leave it,kalles,” I murmured. “It will heal in time.”
She frowned.
“You went out into the fog today, did you not?” I asked her, partly to distract her from my shoulder.
Her brow furrowed. “How did you know that?”
I inclined my head. “The hem of your dress.”
Her head lowered and she peered at the dark-colored dirt, as if surprised to see it. She stared at it for a long moment, unspeaking.
“What do you think it is,sarkia?”
“What do you mean?” she asked quietly. “The fog? I haven’t the faintest idea.”
I needed to choose my words carefully. Perhaps I was planning to lie to her, though those lies were half-truths, but anything that could sow doubt would only benefit me.
“It’s happened before,” I told her.
Her head snapped up, her eyes going wide. “The fo-fog? It has?”
I nodded, unease sliding within me, but I paid it no mind. “Not in my lifetime, but there are records from our history.”
“And—and it can be…erased?” she wondered.
Though my expression was no doubt grim, I inclined my head. “There are priestesses of Kakkari who live in the north. Inside one of the tallest mountains at the end of the Orala Pass, not far from your village.”
Those luminous eyes were rapt on my lips, as if she needed to see the words to understand them in their entirety. She drew closer and closer, drawn to me and what I was telling her.
“They are being summoned down to the eastlands even as we speak. Here. To this very mountain. Where we know everything began.”
“Here?” she whispered, her lips parting, a flash of something crossing her features. Something that resembled fear. “Priestesses?”
“Lysi,” I rumbled, feeling her thigh press into my knee. “They know how to banish the fog from our lands, for their ancestors have been doing it for centuries on Dakkar.”
“Truly?” she asked, the word breathless.
My jaw tightened. My chains rumbled when I shifted, as if in reminder of my imprisonment.
“Lysi,” I murmured. “Yes,” I said in her language.
