It was dismissive and humiliating, especially considering that his horde was witness to it.
So by the time we returned to the tent, after we both stepped inside and Arokan dismissed Mirari and Lavi, once we were alone, I was irritated and unsure and my face was burning in embarrassment.
His eyes finally turned to me and he watched me for a brief, silent moment. It felt strange to finally have his gaze on me.
“What was that?” I asked quietly.
“I presented you to my horde,” he said, as if it was obvious.
“Not that,” I said. “You expected me to follow you, like I was an animal, and you ignored me like one.”
Arokan’s eyes narrowed. “Do not question my actions, kalles. I expect you to obey me, especially among my horde.”
I bristled. “Am I just a—a pet to you? You feed me and touch me and clothe me and brush my hair and I’m expected to do whatever you want?”
“You agreed to it,” he rasped, taking a step towards me. “Even if I considered you my ‘pet’ as you call it, you agreed to it, kalles.”
“Do you even know my name?” I asked, surprisingly stung by his words and I didn’t even know why. “Do you even care?”
“Luna,” he answered swiftly. My lips parted, my body stilling as I heard it curl off his tongue. “That was what your brother called you, was it not?”
Stunned, I looked down to my feet, slightly dirty from the walk around the camp. Hearing my name from his lips felt…wrong. Different. Strange.
“Whether I care,” he hissed next, “does not matter. You are not Luna anymore. Not here. You will be my Morakkari. You will be the Morakkari of my horde and you will show your respect of me when we are among them. Whatever I demand of you, you will do without question because I am still their Vorakkar. It does not matter what you want. It matters what they see, what they think. I will not have you threaten that. Do you understand me?”
Disbelief made my head swim. He wanted to take my identity away, my past. He wanted my only purpose to be him, his people.
“Go to hell, Arokan,” I whispered, deliberately using his name.
His hand flashed out and he gripped my arm, just above my bicep, dragging me towards him until he loomed over me. His eyes were furious, his slim nostrils flaring.
But I wasn’t afraid. I glared up at him and rasped, “I agreed to be your whore, not your queen and certainly not your obedient little slave.”
“You said you would serve me,” he corrected, “and you will. However I want. I own you, kalles. And when the black moon comes, I will show you just how much. In three nights, you will truly be mine.”
Chapter Nine
Arokan didn’t return to the tent.
After the first night and next day after he’d ‘presented’ me to his horde, I hadn’t cared that he hadn’t return. I welcomed the space as I got my head sorted, as I came to terms with the fact that I’d let my temper get the best of me.
Though Arokan had been a cold bastard, he’d been right. I’d agreed to it all.
I remembered that just in time too, considering that I’d just begun to think that Arokan of Rath Kitala might not be so bad after all, that he wasn’t the cruel monster that the horde king rumors had made him out to be.
It didn’t matter that he’d given me his true name, that he’d stopped his advances because I was uncomfortable, that he’d wanted me to eat and not to go hungry.
I was still his pawn, his plaything. For a reason I hadn’t yet discovered, he’d chosen me to be his obedient little wife. He wanted me tamed, he wanted me quiet.
I could be neither.
I refused to be.
As I was granted the space I needed, it became more and more apparent to me that I couldn’t get out of my promise. Arokan wanted me as his queen, his wife…and I would be.
Whatever my role would be, whatever my duties would be still remained to be seen. However, I was still in control of my actions. I wasn’t going to be diminished by a horde king of Dakkar, I wasn’t going to be erased so that he could command the respect of his horde.
I would be his wife but I wouldn’t be his victim. I wouldn’t let him break me. That had never been part of the deal.
So on the second day of Arokan’s absence, I asked Mirari and Lavi to bring me hide, cloth, a needle, and cordage.
Mirari cast a long look at Lavi, like the other female understood what I said, after my request.
“I want to make my own clothes,” I said, looking at her, dressed in my sheer shift dress. “Since my other clothes seem to have been lost in the wash.”
Mirari didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “They had holes in them. I had no choice but to burn those rags.”
I took a deep, calming breath and gave her a small, hopefully charming, smile. Then again, I’d never been good at charming anyone, so it most likely fell flat. “Please. I don’t blame you for throwing them away, but I’d like to make other clothes that I’m more…myself in. I don’t feel comfortable in Dakkari outfits.”
“Why not?” Mirari asked, like it was a personal insult.
“If I bend over, all of the horde would see my backside,” I said, bluntly. “I don’t like feeling exposed.”
“The Vorakkar said you were not to have weapons,” Mirari said quietly.
My brow furrowed. If I wanted a weapon, I could have stolen one from Arokan’s belt during his baths, or when he slept at night. I’d had the opportunity before. It wouldn’t have been difficult.
“A needle is hardly a weapon,” I countered, “and I can’t stitch if I don’t have one.”
Mirari still didn’t look convinced. Lavi simply looked confused about the exchange and kept looking to Mirari for guidance.
“Please,” I said again. I licked my lips, clearing my throat as I said, “If I’m going to stay here, if I’m going to be part of this horde…I need to do it my way. And I know it seems silly, but something as simple as making my own clothes, as feeling comfortable walking through the camp will make a difference to me.”
Mirari watched me, as if trying to discern if I was telling the truth or not. Finally, she nodded. “Lysi, I will get them for you.”
She said something in Dakkari to Lavi, who seemed to protest, but then she left the tent, returning a short while later with the supplies I’d asked for, along with a few…embellishments. Like gold beads, clasps, and strips.
We set them out on the low table and I got to work under their dutiful watch.
After I’d taken my measurements, I started cutting the hide I would use to make pants. Mirari, despite her protestations, had brought me a small razor for the purpose, though her gaze was sharp on me as I made use of it and she took it away the moment I was done with it.
“I worked as a seamstress,” I said quietly, my eyes rapt on the cloth, “back in my village. As an assistant to one, actually.”
“Then why were your clothes in such disrepair?” Mirari asked, boldly.
I almost laughed. “Because I made clothes for others, not myself. Cordage was hard to come by. I didn’t want to waste it.”
“We have heard little of human settlements,” Mirari said softly, surprising me. “We know there are many spread across Dakkar, but we hear tales of their disrespect to Kakkari, of their uprisings and violence.”