“Salve for your pyroki burns. It will help the flesh heal, take the sting away.”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Nik?” the female asked, obviously dumbfounded that I would reject it. “Why?”
“I…” I trailed off, but then decided I would tell her the truth. There was no way around it and perhaps a female, even a Dakkari one, could sympathize. “He said he wouldn’t touch me until I healed.”
Both females looked even more confused.
“I want to avoid it as long as possible. I’m not ready to have sex with him, though I know that is my purpose now. I agreed to it,” I whispered, though I said the last part more to myself.
A cautious understanding finally entered the female’s eyes. She looked embarrassed actually and returned her attention to the clothing in her hands, inspecting the beads as if her life depended on it.
“Come, Missiki,” she finally said, raising her eyes. “We will dress you.”
She didn’t speak of the salve again as they went about their duties.
Though the shift dress the horde king had given me last night barely concealed my nudity, I would have preferred it over what they helped me dress in.
The skirt was made out of animal hide, similar to what the horde king had worn the night before. Tan in color, it was cleanly made, the stitching impressive. However, it came to my mid-thigh, exposing the majority of my legs. And I feared that if I bent over, my sex would be on display and exposed.
The gold beaded top was also too short, stopping just above my naval, molding to my breasts. Thankfully, the material was thick and the plethora of beads that decorated the front helped hide the outline of them. However, it left my shoulders and arms bare. The worst part, however, was that the neckline was attached to a thick golden band, which secured around my neck like a collar.
After helping me into sandals with very impractical, intricate, thin straps, the Dakkari females seemed pleased with their work. When I looked down at myself, my cheeks flushed with mortification because I felt every inch like a kept whore. Collared and exposed. All that was left was to be painted and coifed.
Which was apparently to be next, when I saw the females pulling out little pots of black and red pigments, a white bone brush, and gilded hair pins from their bundle.
“No,” I said, shaking my head, taking a step away. The beads on my top jingled and the collar around my neck felt too tight. “That’s quite enough.”
The Dakkari female frowned, looking down at the cosmetics in her hands. Her own eyelids were painted gold, her already dark eyes rimmed in a solid black powder. I didn’t want any of that on my face.
“Please,” I said, “just hand me the brush. I’ll brush out my hair, but that’s all I want.”
“I will do it,” the female said finally, gingerly setting her pots of cosmetics back into her bundle, though she didn’t seem happy about it. “It is my honor to serve you, Missiki.”
“My name is Luna,” I snapped, that overwhelming feeling returning full force, my voice sounding sharp to my own ears. I felt confined, on display. Nothing was in my control. I had been dropped into a world where nothing made sense and I just wanted someone to call me by my actual name. Not Missiki—whatever the hell that meant—not kalles or nekkar or kassikari or Morakkari.
Luna.
The name my mother had given me. An old name of our race. An ancient name.
Both of the Dakkari females blinked and exchanged a look with one another, freezing in place, their tails flicking behind them wildly. I blew out a breath, lifting a shaking hand to my wavy hair, which I usually kept pinned back since it curled around my cheeks.
“We cannot call you by your given name, Missiki,” the female said, her tone surprisingly gentle. “It is forbidden. Just as we do not call the Vorakkar by his given name.”
A name I still did not know, though I shared a bed with him. Though I’d bathed him and he’d caressed my breasts and told me I would be his queen.
Silence stretched out and the females seemed uncomfortable as they waited for me to speak.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
Again they seemed uncomfortable, even with my apology. “You are our Missiki. You should not apologize to us. We are here to serve you. It gives us purpose and is a great honor bestowed on us by the Vorakkar,” the female repeated.
This was going nowhere. For whatever reason, these females thought they should obey me. They wanted to.
I sighed, looking at the brush the silent female had grabbed. “Very well,” I said softly. “No cosmetics, but will you brush my hair out and pin it back?”
“Lysi, Missiki,” the female breathed, seemingly relieved.
“Will you tell me your names at least?” I asked next, sitting on a nearby cushion. “Or is that forbidden too?”
“We are only piki. You may know our names,” the female said, though hesitantly, as if I wasn’t supposed to ask, as if it was strange. The customs of this culture would be difficult to learn, I realized. And what were piki? “My given name is Mirari.”
Mirari said something in Dakkari to the other female, who finally spoke, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before they darted away, and she said softly, “Lavi.”
It was then I realized that the silent female simply didn’t know the universal tongue, which was why she hadn’t spoken.
Nodding, I gave them a small, strained smile in return and felt Lavi move behind me to brush out my hair.
“What are piki?” I asked Mirari.
She was fiddling with the gold pins as she replied, “We are like…helpers. We are unmated females that travel with the horde. We help the wives of horde warriors with these things.”
“You like traveling with the horde?” I asked, hoping that my question wasn’t offensive. It seemed like a hard lifestyle to me, constantly on the move, no permanent roots.
Mirari said, “Lysi. It is our hope to become horde brides one day and this is how we attract warriors. It is how it has always been done in the hordes. One day, we will have piki of our own.”
I nodded, but I didn’t truly understand.
Mirari continued, a thread of excitement in her voice, or at least what I believed to be excitement, with, “Now that the Vorakkar has given us this honor, surely we will be brides soon. All of the horde will know us.”
Was this about the ‘queen’ thing?
Wisely, I kept my mouth shut, though questions raced in my mind. Truthfully, I wasn’t certain I wanted to know the answers. A part of me was still hoping the horde king would tire of me when he realized just how inexperienced I was when it came to sex and would allow me to return to my village. And, well, if what I feared he’d meant came true, then I knew he would never let me return.
The domed tent was silent as they finished brushing my hair. A few moments after that, Lavi had my hair braided and then pinned up in an intricate way, so it was off my face and neck.
“Will you eat now, Missiki?” Mirari asked once Lavi was done, casting a glance over at the food, still on the tray though it had gone cold. “You must be hungry now.”
I was famished. But the thought of eating made acid burn in my belly.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.