The Horde King of Shadow (Hordes of the Elthika #1)

Chapter 18

SARKIN

Deep down below the lake lay Lishara’s temple. The stairs led to a small chamber, circular in size.

I led Klara down until we were both at the threshold of the room. Behind us, Feranos entered, but he would stay in the shadow of the stairwell, solely a witness to the short ceremony, if only so he could report to Elysom that we’d received Lishara’s blessing. He would not speak. He would not interfere.

Making a circle around the room were five carved stone pillars, each glowing with a heartstone, imbedded within. In the center of the pillars was a small pool of water. Each of the pillars had a single vertical line carved into them, leading from the ceiling of the chamber. Water from the lake trickled down there before running around the heartstone like a stream. The carved channel guided the water directly to the floor. There, five little rivers ran from the pillars to the pool of water, pouring within it at a steady rate.

As such, the small pool was infused with the power of all five heartstones. All five ancient heartstones—the arasykin , as the Karag called them. Once, this land had been riddled with them. Now these were some of the last in existence, and they would forever remain in this place. Any who had tried to steal them before had met a terrible end. A cursed end.

“Heartstones,” Klara said in awe, moving to the closest pillar, her lips parted. The bottom half of her dress was wet, clinging to her skin, and nearly transparent. I forced my eyes upward, coming to stand at her side as she gazed at it.

The blue, glowing light lit up her face beautifully, illuminating Muron’s mark and making her gray eyes sparkle like the iridescence of hatchling scales.

“I’ve never seen so many,” she said in awe, raising her hand, gingerly, as if afraid to touch it. “I hear their whispers.”

A chill went down my spine as I watched her. I could feel the pinch of magic here. It had always made me uncomfortable, as unused to it as I was. But all dragon riders of old had felt the bite of magic. It was only the newer generations that were unfamiliar with it.

Her fingers pressed into the face of the heartstone, water streaking off it, and a small stream ran down her arm. I watched closely and saw that the heartstone throbbed a bright blue, momentarily illuminating the entirety of the dark chamber, like the sun had filled it.

Klara gasped, and she tugged her hand away quickly.

“But these are different,” she breathed, meeting my eyes. They were troubled, unfocused.

“You can feel that?” I asked quietly.

“I can see it,” she said, shaking her head.

“These are ancient heartstones, the same heartstones that Mokag, the first Elthika, used for his beloved mate. We believe their power will never be depleted but never again will we see their equal. Not in our time. Not ever.”

“I think you’re right,” she said quietly, meeting my eyes. When I looked down to the ground, I saw that our blood, still a slow drip from our palms, had entered one of the streams at our feet. Zaridan’s scale was still hot in my hand. Within it, I swore I could feel her heartbeat. “Do you feel that?”

There was a palpable energy in the air. It infused this whole land, truthfully. It was what the old world would have felt like. A constant awareness . A constant presence of magic.

I wasn’t certain I would’ve liked it, had I lived in an earlier time, though I supposed I wouldn’t have known otherwise.

“Yes,” I replied, though I wondered if Klara could feel it more strongly than I could. There was no denying her connection with Elthikan magic. Some beings were more sensitive to it, a gift in and of itself.

Klara swayed, and I reached out to steady her.

“Take my hand,” I told her, and she gripped it without protest, the heat of our cut palms coming together. “This will be quick, and then we can leave.”

It should be quick, I amended silently.

For it was nearly impossible to judge what would happen next.

“We are here for Lishara’s blessing,” I told her, guiding her to the pool in the center of the stone-pillar circle. Here, the light was blue, all of the heartstones pointed toward this very place. It even felt warm, like the touch of the Elthika goddess herself. “But I must warn you, her blessing can be unpredictable.”

“What do you mean?” Klara asked, her eyes going to the basin of water at our feet and Zaridan’s scale in my hand. “We drink that?”

I inclined my head. “Scholars from Elysom have their different theories. They believe Lishara blesses a mate bonding with what they need, not what they want. Sometimes it is a gift of patience. Other times, a gift of…fertility.”

“That’s…that’s fascinating,” she whispered, eyes wide before they turned to the pool, assessing it in a different manner, her brow furrowing, her mouth pinched. Had that been her expression in her precious archives, surrounded by her mountains of tomes and scrolls?

Klara the Curious, I thought, feeling a surprising pinch of affection for her.

“Has anything bad ever happened?” she wondered next.

“A few times,” I told her.

“Like what?”

“If Lishara does not approve of the mate bonding, she sickens the pair with the water,” I told her.

“Oh,” Klara whispered. “So there’s a chance that she might not approve of us?”

“Yes,” I told her.

“Let’s find out, then,” she said, turning her eyes up to meet mine. “ Lysi? ”

I knew that word meant yes in her old Dakkari language. I felt my lips tug up, but I fought to keep my expression neutral.

“ Lysi, ” I said softly, crouching to scoop up some of the water in the sacred pool, using the curve of Zaridan’s scale like a shallow bowl.

When I rose, I saw that Klara’s eyes were on the water between us, watching as the remnants of Zari’s blood mixed within. She would be part of Klara now, no matter the outcome of this.

“Whatever the blessing is, aralye ,” I began, seeing her eyelashes flutter as her eyes flicked up to me, “do not fight it. Whatever she gives us, we must see through.”

She nodded. The chamber felt like it was one giant heartbeat, throbbing in time with mine, with Klara’s. The energy and heat of the heartstones was a distraction, the magic trailing up my skin like a touch, weaving into my lungs with every breath I took.

I brought the scale up to my lips first, holding her gaze as I took the first drink. The water was pure and crisp, icy cold. I held it out for Klara. After a slow inhale, she nodded, as if to herself, and her lips met the edge of Zaridan’s scale. I slowly tipped it back until she drank the remainder, then I threw Zaridan’s scale into the pool. The final offering.

We waited. And waited. I could hear when Feranos shifted on his feet in the darkness of the stairwell, ever patient.

“I—I don’t feel anything,” she said finally, frowning. “Do you think it worked?”

Then the air in the temple seemed to heat, like a fire had been lit.

No, not in the temple, I realized a moment later. In me .

At first, as heat seared me, I thought that perhaps Lishara had rejected our mate bonding. Perhaps she had rejected us and given us sickness instead, a fire raging through us as punishment.

Only, as my heartbeat began to throb in my throat and Klara’s cheeks went flushed, a wildness in her eyes as she slowly started to realize what was happening too…I knew it wasn’t sickness.

Lishara had given us a blessing.

Only…it was one of desire.

I stumbled over to one of the pillars, pressing my hands against it as lust and need ripped through my body, otherworldly and oppressive. I nearly bellowed with it. I breathed deep and ragged, resting my forehead against the cool stone. Its touch felt good , though it did nothing to help calm the storm within me.

Dammit, I cursed silently. This wasn’t meant to happen. This was—nearly—the last thing I had ever expected.

I could smell Klara. I could smell her tantalizing and lush arousal bloom within the small chamber, mingled with the cool, earthy dampness of the temple. It was dizzying.

Fuck . I hated magic. Detested it because it only proved how out of control one could be in their own destiny.

My earlier words came back to haunt me. Whatever the blessing is, aralye, do not fight it. Whatever she gives us, we must see through.

“Sarkin,” came Klara’s gasp, more of a mew. A plea.

And fuck me , it was needy and full of want. My cock thickened in such a rush it was almost painful. Every throb of my heart, every breath I took of her arousal burned in my belly. Blood rushed, pounding in my ears until it was all I could hear.

“Feranos,” I growled. “Leave us! Now!”