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

Bonus Epilogue

SARKIN

“Aralye,” I called, crossing my arms over my chest as an amused smile slid across my features, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” my wife asked, huffing as she threw a clump of earth over her shoulder.

“It looks like you’re destroying our garden.”

“I’m weeding,” she returned, throwing me a small little smirk over her shoulder that had my cock twitching. She bent over, and my eyes slid over her ass in the tight trews she was wearing. I blew out a rough breath as I approached. “And you call this a garden? It’s a cursed forest of poor dead plants and weeds.”

“Used to be a garden,” I corrected, running a hand through my hair. We were at the back of the citadel, in the dense overgrowth that rippled outward from what was once the groundskeeper’s cottage. “The last Sorrina…she was fond of plants.”

A flash of that female rose in my mind. The prior Karath had once sentenced my father and Tyzar to death…but the Sorrina had been a beloved queen, despite her brutish, cold husband. Theirs had been a political, advantageous marriage. Upon the Karath’s decline and removal, she’d faded from public curiosity. Last I heard, she lived in Elysom in a small house with a large garden.

I’d met her once when I was a young boy. During Akymor, the Karath and Sorrina had visited Kaval. She’d patted my head and given me a sugared treat, asking me questions about Tyzar, my father’s Elthika. Not the questions I’d usually received. She’d asked me if he liked cloudy or sunny days—cloudy; what his favorite Karag word was—naro, for he was incredibly fond of that tangy fruit especially for a carnivorous Elthika; and if I thought he wondered about his family, his ancestral horde. That question had given me pause, but she’d smiled patiently nevertheless as I’d stumbled over an answer.

“The state of this place.” Klara sighed, straightening as she wiped her dirt-covered palms on her trews and wiped her arm over her forehead. “I had an itching to get out here today. Especially with Sora coming to visit. I thought the garden could use some tending. She’ll like the cottage. She’s always been more private, so I know she won’t like to be in the main house.”

“Even with her own wing?” I couldn’t help but ask, quirking a brow.

“Even with her own wing,” Klara replied, sweeping a hand toward the cottage that I’d shoved Klara into her night in Sarroth. The memory of which made restless guilt rise.

I didn’t know if I’d ever forgive myself for that, truthfully. The thought that I’d almost lost her that night…it still made me shudder in horror.

“This will be perfect for her,” she continued, smiling. “She’ll be cataloguing all these plants, no doubt. She’ll have a book by the time she heads back home.”

I eyed the pile of dead plants and weeds behind Klara. “When I took the citadel, the garden was already in disrepair. I have no interest in these kinds of things,” I murmured, toeing one of the shriveled vines with the tip of my boot. “I do regret not hiring someone to help it along though. Especially if I knew you would be out here this early doing all the hard labor.”

“I can handle it,” she assured me. I knew she liked when I fussed over her, but she often reminded me that she didn’t need someone to spoon-feed her either. She was a hard worker, naturally. If she wasn’t on Lygath’s back, heading to Lakir for her interviews, or visiting the villages of Sarroth, she was working within the house.

It was my duty to protect her, provide for her, yes…but a little dirt wouldn’t hurt her. Even if I wished she’d asked for my help if she insisted on doing it all by herself.

Not all by herself, I thought, casting a sideways glance at Lygath, who was perched like a guard at the opposite end of the garden. His taloned claws were digging into a crumbling stone wall that desperately needed repairs but was—surprisingly—holding his weight.

My wife’s bonded Elthika narrowed those golden eyes on me, straightening. So like Zaridan’s eyes that I felt a pull of familiarity—a familiarity that I knew Lygath and I both resisted.

It was a foggy morning even though I saw a bead of sweat line my wife’s brow. She’d woken at dawn, most likely, slipping from our bed.

An impulsive idea came to me. The sun was steadily rising, and it would burn off the fog layer soon. The view would be beautiful—one I knew she would appreciate, even if the thought of showing her that place made me ache a little.

“Can I take you somewhere?” I asked.

“Now?”

I inclined my head, already heading toward Lygath. Now that I had it in my head…I wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“A little break will do you good. I’ll help you finish the rest when we get back, lysi?”

“You want to go on…Lygath?” she asked, her voice trailing after me in shock.

I eyed her Elthika as I approached, stopping beyond the boundary of what I knew would be considered impertinent. I lowered my chin slightly, keeping my gaze pinned on him.

It was no secret that our relationship had been rocky. Not just because of Haden’s death, but because I didn’t quite trust him yet. That was natural, however. Klara trusted him…and I supposed that was all that should matter.

Lygath’s wings flared briefly as Klara came to stand beside me.

He might not’ve liked me—hell, he didn’t like anyone except my wife—but I thought that we both respected the other. And that would have to be enough for now.

Lygath stepped down from the wide wall—his front limbs first, followed by his back ones. The garden shook, some of the trees rustling with the quake. I’d never ridden on Lygath’s back but…I was Zaridan’s bonded. Elthika usually didn’t allow any other riders except their bonded, but bloodlines were different.

“Will you take us somewhere?” I asked the Vyrin.

His breath puffed out, the force of it so great that I felt it push back my hair. Klara took my hand, and when I looked down at her, she had a small, hesitant smile on her face. I knew that my continued distance from Lygath disappointed her, considering how close she’d grown to Zaridan. Perhaps this was one small act I could perform to show her that I was trying. It would take time, but I would always try to build a better relationship with the Vyrin. For her.

Slowly, Lygath turned. His wing lowered—though he did so slowly, as if to show his mild displeasure. I felt a smirk tug at my lips at the theatrics. I was beginning to suspect that all the ancients were this haughty.

Lygath wouldn’t, however, allow me to lead him, so I sat behind Klara in her mount, my palms gripping her hips hard, her rounded bottom nestled against my cock.

“Mmm,” I purred into her pointed ear when we were in the air, watching the citadel grow smaller beneath us, “I could get used to this, princess.”

Her laugh was carried away by the wind, and I barely suppressed a groan when she wiggled against me purposefully.

I directed her over Sarroth just as the rays of warm sunlight began to spear through the fog bank below. We flew west, toward the farmland. It wasn’t long before the main road to Kaval was visible, and I directed her toward a nearby mountain where I knew there was a wide cliff, large enough for Lygath to land safely.

The stone vibrated with the impact. Here, shaded by the tall forest even farther west, the sun hadn’t yet burned away the fog.

Klara gasped and then breathed, “It’s beautiful, Sarkin.”

“Come, I’ll show you.”

I led her down from Lygath, and we stood alongside one another by the cliff’s edge. I kept a firm grip around her waist, bringing her back to my chest. From this vantage, we had the best view of Sarroth, lit by bright sunlight, burning away the wispy gray. Golden hues burst off the colors throughout various villages—banners flying, foliage, tall chimneys, meadows. It made the river twinkle and the icy caps on the mountains sparkle. In the distance, the windows of the citadel gleamed.

“I used to come here all the time with Tyzar,” I informed her softly, my eyes taking in the view that had once been so familiar to me. “I haven’t been up here for years.”

Her hand came up to stroke the back of my hand, her touch calming, grounding. I felt myself relax.

“There,” I said, pointing to the farmland below us, to the short and small stone home that was perched on the outskirts of Kaval, looking over flat and lush farmlands.

“Is that…?”

“Yes,” I replied. “My old home.”

Where I’d grown up. Where my father had grown up, and his father before him. The forest that abutted against the farmland was where my father had found the abandoned Elthika egg, still warm and silvery in the moonlight.

Klara’s fingers stilled over my skin, instead coming to tighten around my wrist. She turned slightly in my arms, peering up at my face when she heard the strange note in my voice.

It was odd seeing it. I’d purposefully avoided the sight of it for years. I’d gifted the land and the home to a farmer and his growing family when I’d become Karath. Since then, they’d built additions to the home to accommodate their children, unfamiliar structures attached to my old bedroom and off the kitchen.

It pulled at my chest to know that I’d been the one to let my father’s ancestral home go when it had been in our family for generations.

Yet…I couldn’t stomach the thought of it sitting abandoned. Rotting from the inside out. Slowly dying on the outskirts of Kaval—just like my mother had.

I would much rather another family fill it with memories, to push out the darker ones that lingered in the stone walls.

I blew out a rough breath, seeing the concern in my wife’s face. I assured her, “I’m all right. You mentioned once you wanted to see it. I haven’t forgotten.”

It felt easier this way…to bring her here impulsively. If it was a planned thing, it would feel heavy in my chest, a tight ball winding and winding. But now all I felt was relief—unknotted and loose relief.

I spied blue smoke coming from the chimney. I heard the thwack of wood being chopped and saw the farmer’s son working down below. The father was out in the fields, surveying his land. They’d kept it alive, just as they’d promised, the farm in perfect working condition, and that filled me with more pleasure than I thought it might.

“You had many happy memories here, didn’t you?” Klara asked, those beautiful gray eyes rapt on me.

Many, I thought. We had been happy. I loved my parents, Tyzar. That home had heard laughter and seen smiles once, just as I liked to think it was experiencing now.

“Yes.”

“That matters too,” she told me softly, smiling. “The good ones. I know it’s hard to see your home now…but there was a lot of love here. I know that. And you should hold that close.”

“It’s easy to forget with what happened afterward,” I told her, my brow furrowing, “but thank you for reminding me. Those memories are just as important to hold on to. You’re right. And being here…it’s actually easier than I thought it’d be.”

Though I strongly suspected it had everything to do with whom I was here with.

My wife sighed, turning again in my arms to survey the beautiful view in front of us, the home and the land.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said.

“I wanted you to see it.”

I caught the edge of her smile when I leaned around to press a kiss to her cheek.

“I can imagine you here so easily,” she said. “Running through those fields, a mischievous smile on your face.”

I chuckled, my arms tightening around her. “I told you once I was of the earth. I grew up with dirt beneath my feet and claws.”

Klara shook her head. Her gaze turned toward the sky as sunlight made it glow.

“And yet you were always looking upward,” she guessed. She knew.

“And I thank Muron for it. Every day,” I rumbled into her ear. “Because it helped me find my way to you.”