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

Chapter 23

SARKIN

Klara gasped when she came awake, seeing me lingering above her.

“Get dressed in your riding clothes and come with me,” I told her.

“You’re back,” she breathed, still groggy. “I’d dreamed…”

“What did you dream?” I wondered, stilling.

She shook her head. “Nothing of the heartstones.” She blinked the bleariness from her eyes. “Is it still night?”

“Yes. We just returned. Hurry.”

Klara didn’t question me, only slid out from beneath the furs, as I tried not to skim my gaze over her legs. As I remembered the way they’d tightened around my hips in Lishara’s temple. I still had her little claw marks down my back. This morning, I’d looked at them in my reflection for longer than necessary.

I decided to wait outside as she dressed, and when she joined me in the cool night air, I led her to the landing field.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asked, more awake now, though she kept her voice a hushed whisper. The horde was quiet, slumbering.

When we reached the landing field and she saw Zaridan waiting there, her confusion only doubled.

“Kyavor told me you had difficulty mounting today,” I informed her.

Her lips parted in realization, blinking as I swore I caught a flash of embarrassment on her features. “That’s not… It was… You’re keeping watch over me?”

“You are at a grave disadvantage, Klara,” I informed her, rubbing at my tired eyes. I’d been on dragonback all morning, day, and night, trying to track down the missing Elthikan horde, with no luck. I was tired and wanted sleep. But this was important, and I needed her to realize that.

“I’m not training to be a rider, Sarkin,” she said softly. “That’s not my purpose here.”

“But it is your duty to claim an Elthika of your own,” I said, my tone inviting no argument. “You don’t have to ride well, Klara, but you do have to master the basics if you want a mere chance at succeeding. Most Sarrothian riders begin practicing mounts when they’ve barely begun to walk.”

“Is that when you started?” she questioned, going to Zaridan.

The ease with which Zari lowered her head to press into Klara’s palm should’ve been maddening…given how much challenge the Elthika had given me during our bonding process.

“I was not a blood born,” I told her, leaving it at that. “So I know how difficult it is to catch up during instruction…and I even started training at fourteen. You’re over a decade older than your peers.”

“I know,” Klara grumbled, and I didn’t know why that cranky tone tugged on the corners of my lips. “You don’t have to remind me. I know how out of place I am among them.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, softening my tone. “The silver moon is only a month away…but there are already signs that the Elthika are migrating to the Tharken cliffs, where the first flights take place. You were told about those?”

“Yes, from Sammenth,” she said.

I should have been the one to tell her, I realized, recognizing my failing. She was the first Dakkari to step foot onto Karag soil in centuries. Of course she would have no knowledge of these things like we did about them. We’d been watching them for decades. Even now, there were Karag on Dakkari soil and they were none the wiser.

Know your enemy. Conquer them before they conquer you.

That was one of Elysom’s commands, etched in silver on their capital building in their pristine coastal city.

But the Dakkari weren’t our enemy, were they?

“The first-flight choosing might happen before the silver moon with how restless the Elthika have been lately,” I said. “That’s what I’m saying. So you need to be as ready as you can be. In addition to your lessons with Kyavor, I’ll be training you at night as supplementation. Lysi? ”

Klara blew out a sharp breath. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” I told her truthfully, honestly. “You might be my wife now, Klara, but I will not be easy on you. I will be harder on you than Kyavor would be.”

“You’re worried about me,” she said quietly, realization threading through her tone. “You wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.”

I said nothing.

“You don’t think I have it in me to claim an Elthika of my own,” she guessed next.

My silence felt long and harsh.

“I see,” she said quietly. She looked down to the ground, her hand never leaving Zaridan. “I suppose I cannot fault you for that. And I know I’m no good to you dead.”

My brow furrowed, my body jolting.

“I told you before—don’t say that,” I growled.

“It’s the truth,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “Let’s at least be honest about it, Sarkin. You need me because you know that I’m your best chance at finding more heartstones for your people and for the Elthika. And in order for that to happen, to remain here, your people have to accept me. You’ll do everything you can to ensure that. I’m not a fool; I’m actually very practical. I know what’s at stake, just like you know there are other reasons why I want to be here.”

The restlessness in my chest grew. Did she really think I was as cold as that?

Of course she does, I thought, shame spreading. I’d never done anything to show her otherwise. Navigating this with her was difficult. Uncertain. I felt out of my element. As Karath , I was in control at all times. With her, I’d never felt so untethered.

I’d always been detached from my lovers, given what I’d experienced growing up. When they drew too closely, I pulled away. I recognized that part of myself. But Klara was my wife now. Just that thought alone brought dark pain rising. I shouldn’t have been surprised that I was struggling to let her in.

I thought this all while knowing that my mother was only one of the wounds that I kept buried deep, enclosed in the unyielding tomb of my chest. How long would it be before Klara wiggled herself inside? How long would it be until she saw the depths of my grief, the scared boy who feared love?

“I haven’t been fair to you,” I said quietly.

Her breathed hitched. “What?”

“I’m not easy , Klara. I know that,” I admitted. “But I do believe in you. If I haven’t told you that before, let me tell you now, in no uncertain terms. I believe that you can do this, aralye .”

“You do?” she asked. My chest squeezed when I heard the quiet hope in her voice.

“ Lysi, ” I said, inclining my head at her. “I would not lie to you about this.”

She took a deep breath as she studied me. I would’ve given a lot to hear her thoughts at that moment, wondering what she thought of me, wondering what she saw.

Then she flashed me a surprisingly bright smile. “What will you have me do tonight?”

Her quiet determination was impressive.

“You will practice mounting a real Elthika tonight,” I informed her, knowing the best way I could show her I cared was to do everything I could to ensure she succeeded. “No harnesses in rivers. That’s for children.”

“Where?” she asked, trying to hide the mild apprehension in her tone.

I jerked my head up at the mountain behind us. Her neck craned back to take in its spectacular size.

“There.”

“Again,” I said, voice even and calm with my hands tucked behind my back.

She’d been unsuccessful for the last hour, and I could see the overwhelming fatigue on Klara’s features. What impressed me, however, was that she never gave up. Even when she tried to hide the way her arms trembled from the strain of pulling herself onto the harness, over and over again, or the way she swallowed her fright and fear with every leap off the cliffside onto Zaridan’s back.

We were high up on the cliffside, intentionally so. Despite what she might’ve believed, being higher allowed more time to recover her if she happened to topple off Zaridan. If she tumbled off one of the lower cliffs, there wouldn’t be enough time to react before she met the ground. She was wary of heights, I’d realized, which never boded well for a rider. Most Sarrothian overcame that fear very young, but she was a Dakkari. One with the earth, not the sky, as she’d pointed out to me the other night.

I hadn’t realized what a hindrance that would be to overcome.

“Sloppy,” I assessed after I watched her make another attempt, this time barely sliding her leg over the harness, causing her to grapple for the stabilizing bar in a panic.

She was huffing as Zaridan hovered close to the edge of the cliff. She rested her forehead briefly on the bar as she tried to catch her breath.

Though frustration was rumbling in my chest, I knew there was a delicate balance of when to push and when to rest. If I pushed her too hard tonight, she wouldn’t perform well with Kyavor come morning, perhaps losing out on vital skills.

“Enough for tonight,” I said. “ Faryn, Zari.”

I heard Klara insist, “I can keep going.”

“No,” I said. Her back hunched, her eyes catching mine. I backed up a few paces and then launched off the cliff, landing behind Klara in the harness.

“You do it so easily,” she observed in defeat as my hand came to her waist. Our bodies jolted forward as Zaridan gusted her wings, circling away from the mountain and back down toward the village.

“I’ve had years of practice,” I said into her ear, my lips brushing the sensitive flesh, my tone coming out gruffer than intended, and I caught her shiver. “Remember that. Today was your first time.”

“I’m not used to doing things not well.”

When Zaridan landed back on solid ground, I thought of Klara’s dagger tossing at the celebration feast. She’d surprised even me.

“Patience,” I said. “We’ll continue tomorrow night. This is one of the most difficult skills you will need to master, and it is the foundation of riding.”

“How long did it take you?”

My second attempt, I thought. But I didn’t tell her that, not wanting her to get discouraged. I’d studied Elthika riders closely when I’d been young. I used to watch them for hours in our village outside Sarroth, long after the sunlight had faded, more as an excuse not to return home than anything.

Most importantly, I’d grown up with an Elthika, even though I was not a blood born.

“Long enough.”

“Gods,” she groaned. “You’re lying to me. That’s exactly what someone would say when it took them no time at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I grunted, tapping on Zaridan’s joint, feeling the vibration as she extended her wing for our descent. “I never pegged you as a pouter.”

“I’m not pouting,” she argued.

“You just don’t like failing,” I finished for her. “I hate to tell you this, aralye , but you will fail more than you will succeed when it comes to the Elthika. The sooner you accept that, the easier time you’ll have. Do not focus on perfection. Focus on consistency. Think like this instead: There is no right way to ride an Elthika. All that matters is that you can .”

Klara was looking up at me, her lips parted, as we both stepped off Zaridan’s wing, onto the earth.

“All that matters is that I can,” she repeated softly, and I saw her consume those words. “I can work with that.”

“Good.”

Then she sighed, bending down to stroke her fingers over the moss-covered dirt.

“If I fail during the first flight,” she began, “will you or Zari let me fall?”

I flinched, the reaction her words brought forth. A flash of Haden’s face flickered to life in my mind, the fear and realization I’d seen, and I squeezed my eyes shut, momentarily trying to dispel that harrowing image.

“What?” I said carefully.

“Never mind,” she breathed, her fist clenching into the earth in finality, as if squeezing that worry away. “The soil is so rich here. So full of life.”

I was still frowning when she stood. Between us, she held out a clump of dirt. I could smell it, the damp musk.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

I’d always been too busy looking at the horizon. Not the land.

“My people believe that the same power that created the red fog in the Dead Lands, the fog that almost wiped out our entire race, had happened before. Nearly four hundred years ago when the mrok illa star was shining in the sky,” she said, her eyes rapt on the dirt, pressing her thumb into it.

I hadn’t heard that, nor had our spies or scouts ever mentioned anything like it.

“It was a disease in the soil, leeching the life out of the land, sickening everyone. Or perhaps it was a heartstone curse,” she said. “Maybe once, the earth of Dakkar was like this . But we don’t have beautiful soil like this back home.”

I remembered Dakkar. While it held a wondrous, raw beauty, the wildlands could be desolate and punishing. It was a particular way of life, and I marveled that Klara had grown up living it.

After last night, there were stories milling around the horde about her, mostly positive, which boded well. After her dagger display and the questions the acolytes had peppered her with afterward, it was becoming apparent to the Sarrothian that they had perhaps misjudged her.

As had I.

She wasn’t a spoiled princess who’d had an easy life. She’d grown up like many of my own people and not without her own challenges. But questions of her lineage would undoubtedly rise. She was the child of an affair, one of the highest dishonors among the Sarrothian, and I knew that many would not look kindly upon that, even if Klara herself had had no part in it. She was marked by it and would be forever.

The Sarrothian could be a judgmental people, one of the things I’d hoped to change when I’d taken over command of the territory. But one could not erase centuries of preconceived notions.

The rest of the Karag viewed the Sarrothian as a rigid, unyielding people. But it made trade more difficult, negotiations more tense. It would benefit us to be more open to outsiders. Perhaps a large part of that change could come with Klara.

If she can bond with an Elthika, I knew. That one sacred oath that the Sarrothian expected above all else.

It wasn’t enough that Zaridan had given Klara her sy’asha . It wasn’t enough that I’d chosen her as my wife. It wasn’t enough that Lishara had given us a blessing at her temple—the memory of which was still a constant reply in my mind, a constant erotic reminder.

Klara dropped the clump of earth she’d picked up, wiping her hands together. I cleared my throat, the night returning to me.

To Zaridan, I said, “ Sen endrassa .”

She made a sound like a half groan, half purr, energy being pulled in from the ground all around her before she unleashed it, catapulting up into the air.

“What does that mean?” she asked, watching Zaridan fly, tracking her toward the mountain.

“It is a term of respect, appreciation.”

“Like a thank-you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And where does she go? She sleeps in the mountain? Does she have a family of her own?”

“Zaridan? No. She has chosen no mate and, as such, has no brood.”

“Are all the Vyrin like that?”

I cast her a look as we walked back toward the horde. It seemed she’d learned much today. “When you get to be as advanced in your years as the Vyrin, when you have made a name for yourself among your kind and wield the power of ethrall , with all of its responsibilities, you have the luxury of being particular.”

“Are mate bonds not seen as desirable among the Elthika? I would think it would strengthen them.”

“They do. But equals are hard to find among the Vyrin. And they would never settle for less than their equal.”

Klara looked up at me, and I could see what she was wondering. If I considered her my equal and…vice versa.

My spine straightened at the thought, frowning.

“Zaridan’s brother…”

“Lygath,” I told her.

“Lygath,” she whispered, and a strange look came over her face. “Where is he now?”

My jaw tightened. “He is near. When Zaridan is present in the Arsadia, he is always near.”

“And what is he like?”

“Unyielding” was the immediate word that spilled from my mouth.

“I’d…I’d heard that…” She trailed off, as if uncertain how to form the words.

I made a sound of derision in the back of my throat. “Though the Sarrothian pride themselves on being principled, they sure do like to talk.”

“Ignore me,” she relented. Her cheeks pink, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Briefly, I debated telling her. It wasn’t a secret. In the end, I couldn’t stomach it. Not right then. “I don’t enjoy talking about it. Don’t take it personally.”

She nodded and thankfully remained silent on the subject. There was a sudden restlessness building up inside me, despite my fatigue. Brought on by the memory of Haden? Lygath? It started slow, like an itch beneath my skin, but it made my heart race. My pace quickened too, like I was trying to escape it, drawing nearer and nearer to my home. Our home, I realized.

“Did you find the Elthika you were looking for?” she asked instead.

“No sign of them,” my voice clipped, which she tried to ignore.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not yet.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence as my restlessness grew. When we reached the steps that led up the door, I stilled, and Klara looked back at me with confusion.

“I’ll post a guard out the door tonight,” I told her. But the thought of going inside with her, feeling the heat of her skin next to me on the furs on the ground, the strap around my ankle, surrounded by walls…I couldn’t bear it.

“You’re not coming in?” she asked, her lips frowning. “Sarkin, I’m sorry about?—”

“It’s not that,” I growled. It was exactly that. When I caught the flash of hurt on her face, I couldn’t stand it. Frustration and self-loathing cut through me. I’d wanted to move forward with her, but like I feared, there were many wounds that kept her away. “And please understand, Klara…this…this isn’t about us. This is me . And only me. Go. Sleep.”

This was why it had always been easier to be alone.

Now I feared I could never be right for her. That I could never be what she needed me to be.

“And where will you sleep?” she asked.

“I won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow night for another session with Zaridan.”

Then I left, heading toward the spray of the waterfall, trying to get Haden’s face—and Lygath’s roar as my friend had fallen—out of my head.