Mirari asked, “He did not tell you?”
Part of me had assumed he was with another one of his females, which was why he hadn’t shared his bed with me for the past two nights.
“No,” I said softly. “He didn’t.”
“A scout brought news of Ghertun. A group was seen camping towards the west, close to Dothik. The Vorakkar rode out with a part of the horde to eliminate them.”
What?
“Ghertun?” I asked, frowning, sitting up straighter.
Mirari cut me a look. “You do not know the Ghertun?”
“No,” I said. “Are they some sort of beast?”
“A race,” Mirari corrected. “A vile race who settled here centuries ago after a corrupt king allowed them in. They stay to the east, to the Dead Lands, but have been testing our borders of late.”
My mind raced. “How do we not know about these beings?”
“Because the hordes have kept you safe,” was what Mirari replied with.
My breath hitched. “How so?”
“I guarantee that if a Ghertun pack descended on your village, there would be nothing left. They rape females and burn settlements and kill young. It is their way. Then they consume the land, defile Kakkari, until there is nothing left. They move on to the next place. You would know their faces, know their war cries. The horde kings and our horde warriors keep us safe. They track down and kill any Ghertun outside of the Dead Lands to eliminate threats before they begin. However, sometimes they are too late.”
Heart racing, I blew out a breath. “And this is normal? How long has this been going on?”
“Since they settled here,” Mirari answered. “There used to be two hordes that patrolled our lands, that hunted game to send back to Dothik. Only two. Now there are many hordes. It is necessary.”
The needle fell from my grip and I ran my cold fingers over my lips, trying to absorb the information.
Arokan had been right. I knew nothing of the Dakkari, knew next to nothing about this planet, though it had been my only home.
Had they truly been keeping us safe, all these years? Perhaps inadvertently? If what Mirari was saying was true, if a Ghertun pack happened upon our village, we wouldn’t have been able to defend ourselves. Had the hordes been protecting us all along?
Mirari was studying me. Lavi spoke, asking her a question, probably wondering what was wrong with me.
“When do you think he will return?” I asked after a long moment of silence.
Mirari tilted her head. “I suspect before tomorrow night.”
“Why?”
“The black moon comes,” she said. “I do not think anything could keep him from you once it does. Even bloodthirsty Ghertun.”
Chapter Ten
Mirari had been right.
Arokan returned with his horde warriors the next afternoon to a camp in chaos.
At least that was what it seemed like to me, though Mirari told me that the camp was only preparing for the tassimara. The joining celebration, scheduled for later that night under the black moon.
All of them returned. Arokan and the ten horde warriors he’d taken with him. I was outside the tent when they came back, in my new pants and tunic top that I’d stayed up through the night to make with Mirari and Lavi. The two piki hadn’t complained once about the late hour, but I knew that they wouldn’t leave me alone with the blade or the needle either.
So they’d stayed.
And by the time they showed up at the tent the next morning, I was already dressed in my new outfit, with my hair braided down my back. I drank the bowl of broth they’d brought me, refusing the meat once more, and then we’d gone outside.
I felt more like myself than I’d had since I’d arrived to the Dakkari camp.
It was simply ironic then that later that night, I would never be the same again. I knew what was coming. Arokan had told me himself. After that night, I would be his wife, his queen. He would own my body and my life would be tied to his from that night forward.
Husband.
The word seemed strange to describe him, but that was what he would become.
My mother had often told me to be strong. It was such a general saying, two words that had no meaning to me until I found myself in a situation where they made perfect sense.
I’d had to be strong when I’d found my mother, lying in a pool of her own blood. I’d had to be strong for Kivan, to protect him, working long hours to keep rations coming in. I’d had to be strong when I made a deal with a Dakkari horde king.
Be strong now, I thought as I watched Arokan and his horde warriors ride into camp. Behind me, I heard Lavi make a sound, a sound like relief, when the males guided their pyroki to the pen a short distance away. I watched Lavi approach one of the male warriors, watched her speak with him, watched her touch his hand.
The warrior was tall and broad and handsome, much like Arokan. And Lavi was obviously smitten.
As if of their own accord, my eyes found Arokan. Our gazes had connected once he’d ridden into camp, but he’d looked away to attend to his pyroki, to give orders to the male in charge of the beasts, and to address an older Dakkari male that approached him from a nearby tent.
I watched them speak and studied the horde king, whose flesh was streaked in black blood and dirt. Some of the other warriors looked worse. One had a particularly nasty gash on his thigh and a female came forward to attend him almost immediately, leading him away.
Other than that brief pause, however, the camp continued to prepare for that night, as if their males and their horde king returning all bloodied was a usual occurrence.
When Arokan broke away from the older male and began his approach, my heart stuttered in my chest, remembering how angry he’d been the last time we’d spoken.
“You should attend to your male, Missiki,” Mirari said quietly. “Remember. He is just like Drukkar.”
I nodded to her, though my eyes never left Arokan. Quietly, she slipped away, weaving towards the front of the camp where I was sure she could find something to occupy her time. It seemed like there was still much to prepare.
His eyes tracked over my body, taking in my hide pants and cloth tunic, before settling on my face. Arokan didn’t say anything about the clothes, however, just held the tent flap open for me as I ducked inside and he followed behind me.
When we were alone, I took a deep breath and turned to him, though my tongue felt tied, knotted in my mouth.
It was possibly the first time I’d ever been at a loss for words as I looked at him. Up close, he looked like a bloody mess. Black splatters of blood adorned his body, covering parts of his golden tattoos. His left side was covered in grime and dirt, as if he’d fallen hard. The pants he wore would probably take multiple washings to clean.
As if on cue, the tent flap parted and males brought in the bathing tub, followed by buckets of steaming water.
We were silent as they filled it and I only moved once they left us in peace. Arokan was watching me and I moved towards him slowly, remembering Mirari’s advice, remembering the story of Drukkar. Remembering that perhaps the horde king needed warmth most of all, considering the crusted and cold blood that decorated his flesh, remembering that he had the power to help my village, if I gave him reason to.
He would be my husband. Nothing would change that. And if we entered into this partnership, however unequal it might be, on good terms, perhaps we could be of use to one another.