Rider's Revenge (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 1)

by Alessandra Clarke

  Garzel pounded on her back until she spit out whatever it was that had made her choke.

  He poured a glass of white fluid from a metal pitcher beaded with water and held it towards K'lrsa, signaling that she should drink it.

  "Cow's milk." Herin coughed one last time. "It'll calm the heat."

  K'lrsa swallowed the whole glass in three gulps. It tasted awful, but Herin was right. It did take away the burning sensation in her mouth. "Thank you." She nodded towards Garzel. "Why doesn't he speak?"

  "Can't. He has no tongue."

  Garzel opened his mouth to reveal a small stub of flesh. K'lrsa flinched as he wagged it back and forth. Garzel laughed and sat back once more.

  "A gift from the former Daliph, may he burn in eternal fire." Herin took another bite of food offered by Garzel—this one a small roll wrapped in green leaves.

  "Why does he feed you? Can't you feed yourself?"

  The woman should be able to manage, even with her maimed fingers.

  Herin shrugged. "Habit after thirty years. Garzel has fed me since the day I arrived here. Women at court aren't allowed to feed themselves. Easier than using these."

  She waved her mangled fingers in front of K'lrsa's eyes.

  "What happened?"

  Herin smiled, the expression reminding K'lrsa of a hawk about to strike. "Another gift from the Daliph."

  "That's horrible. What did you do that he would do that to you?"

  Herin glared at her until K'lrsa chose to look away.

  At last, Herin answered, "Do you think a woman could do anything that would justify this? That any person could do anything that would justify this?"

  "No." K'lrsa spoke softly, shamed. "I just…this world is so different from the tribes. I thought maybe…it was part of the law here or something. I wanted to know if there was something I might do that would lead to the same punishment."

  Herin shook her head. "No. It won't happen. The new Daliph isn't like the old one."

  After they ate for a long time in silence, Herin continued speaking. "My fingers and thumbs. In the olden days, this was how a Daliph marked his dorana. Dorana are the Daliph's chosen companions. By cutting the fingers and thumbs of his dorana a Daliph in the old times showed how powerful he was because each dorana he kept required many slaves and poradoma to tend her every need."

  She took another bite of food, chewing slowly. "This practice was replaced with the meza—a symbol of the dorana's dependence on her Daliph but something she didn't have to carry with her for the rest of her life."

  "So why did the former Daliph do that to you?"

  "Because he was a sadistic bastard who enjoyed inflicting pain on as many people as he could."

  K'lrsa choked on the olive she'd been eating.

  Herin shrugged. "He was."

  "So you were one of his dorana?"

  Herin laughed—a harsh, grating sound like metal on stone. "Me? No. He was a cruel, evil man, but not even he was that arrogant. Or foolish. No. I was just something he kept close for amusement."

  Herin had clearly been beautiful once—her eyes still were when she relaxed—but now her body was all bones and sinew, her face covered with the wrinkles of anger and unhappiness.

  K'lrsa shivered. "Did the Daliph like you that much? That he kept you so close?"

  Herin spat out an olive seed, reminding K'lrsa for a moment of Lodie. "No. He hated me that much. Now, enough of the past."

  Herin leaned forward. "You are trouble. More trouble than you're worth. If I had a say in the matter, you'd be on your way back to your tribe already, tied up in the back of a wagon, never to be seen again until you were out of the Daliphate. Better yet, I'd just have you killed."

  "So why am I still here? You seem very powerful."

  Herin snorted. "Not powerful enough." She shook her head. "The Daliph does what he will. And he decided to make you one of his dorana, the blasted fool."

  "The Daliph? When did he see me? Where?"

  Had she missed a chance to kill him? When? And did this mean that Herin had crossed Badru, giving her to the Daliph to get her away from him?

  Herin studied her, eyes narrowed, lips pressed tight together so the wrinkles blossomed on her cheeks. "Tell me something, girl. Why are you here? Why didn’t you escape with Lodie when you had the chance?"

  "It didn't occur to me." K'lrsa shoved a bite of food into her mouth and avoided Herin's intense gaze.

  "That's a lie. I will find out the truth."

  Yes, she would. When the Daliph was dead at K'lrsa's feet.

  "Can I see Badru again before I'm made a dorana?"

  She knew there was no future for them, but she wanted for just one moment to feel his lips against hers here, in the real world.

  Herin grabbed her by the throat, the movement so fast, that K'lrsa was choking before she even knew what had happened. "Never speak that name again. Ever."

  "I don't understand…" K'lrsa barely managed to gasp out the words.

  "You're right. You don't. You're a silly little girl who has no idea what events she's set in motion." She shoved K'lrsa away. "As far as you're concerned, Badru is dead. The boy you saw in your dreams is just that, a dream. You are now a dorana of the Daliph of the Toreem Daliphate. Act like it."

  K'lrsa rubbed at her throat. "And how do I do that when I don't know the rules?"

  "You'll learn them. And until you do, you won't leave this room."

  K'lrsa poked at the olives on the plate in front of her. "I'm sorry I upset you, Herin. But…I love him, you know." She didn't dare say Badru's name again, but she knew the older woman understood who she was talking about.

  "Is that so?"

  "I do. I've been dreaming of him for weeks. He's all that sustained me through…through everything I saw."

  Herin laughed. "A dream. You fell in love with a dream. What do you know of him? Truly?"

  K'lrsa leaned forward. "You don't understand. It was instant. Our connection. The Lady Moon brought us together. We've danced the Moon Dance in the Great Desert. Night after night, our bodies moving together so perfectly…"

  Garzel grunted and Herin nodded agreement. "Pzah. A dream. Put it aside. Real life is nothing like that little fancy of yours." She leaned forward. "And if I hear you speak of your dreams again or say that boy's name to anyone other than me or Garzel, I will kill you myself, blood bond or no. Do you understand?"

  "Yes."

  She ate another olive, waiting for Herin to say more, but she didn’t. "When will I meet him? The Daliph?"

  Herin gave her a long look, her eyes hooded. "When you're ready to behave like a true dorana."

  "When will that be? A few days? A few weeks?"

  Herin snorted. "Perhaps never. I won't have you shame him, or me, or your poradoma." She stood with Garzel's assistance. "Rest well, girl. Tomorrow your life changes in ways you never expected."

  K'lrsa watched them walk towards the door, all the questions she wanted to ask dying on her tongue.

  Herin opened the door and waited as the servants cleared away all the dishes of food, most still heaped high as if they hadn't been touched.

  After they'd gone, Herin turned to K'lrsa once more. "You should've stayed home. And if you did wish this for yourself? You'll soon learn what a fool you were."

  After Herin closed the door, K'lrsa heard the sound of a large bar slamming into place, locking her inside.

  Chapter 50

  K'lrsa felt restless, agitated. The room she was in was spacious and beautiful, the fabrics nicer than anything she'd ever known before. But she was caged, trapped, stuck for who knew how long. Maybe forever.

  She stripped off the loose silk robe and kicked the pillows backwards until she had a cleared area large enough to practice the hundred and five attacks.

  As she worked through them, flowing from Crouching Cricket to Striking Hawk, from Slithering Snake to Pouncing Cat, she tried to puzzle through all that had happened since she'd met Badru and Herin.

  Why couldn't K
'lrsa speak Badru's name? Was he a secret? He hadn't seemed it. And the stablehands had taken his horse just like they'd taken anyone else's.

  His clothes were very fine even though they'd been all black like Herin's. So he wasn't some poor relation snuck into the palace.

  She longed for Barkley. He'd know the answers. He'd help her understand.

  She jumped high, kicking at an imaginary opponent's jaw, snapping his neck. Her muscles were tight after so many days of riding without the opportunity to practice. It had been weeks since she'd been able to move through the full attack forms and her body felt the difference.

  She was like a child, starting over, unbalanced, unsure.

  And Lodie. Why had the mere mention of her name caused Herin to kill everyone who heard it? What was so secret about selling your sister into slavery?

  And why was the Daliph making her a dorana? She'd thought it was an honor reserved for daughters of the best families in the Daliphate—a political alliance as much as anything else. So why choose a girl of the tribes as dorana? It made no sense. Even Herin had said it was a foolish thing to do.

  So why do it? And when had he seen her?

  K'lrsa stopped, breathing hard, her skin sheened with sweat. She'd only made it through the first sixty attacks. She'd need to work her way up to the final attacks, the leaping, diving, spinning ones. She was too stiff to try them now.

  Each night she'd work at it until she once again flowed through the forms as easily as breathing.

  And in the morning, in the morning she'd devote every ounce of energy to becoming the perfect dorana. It was the only way she'd ever leave this room. The only way she'd finally have her chance to kill the Daliph.

  She grabbed a soft cloth from the bathing area and wiped her body down.

  The cloth turned black with the grime of travel. It was nice to really sweat and have the chance to scrape away the dirt of the road and feel clean once more.

  She turned to the bed. It was too exposed. Too large. And too soft. She'd never be able to sleep in it.

  She pulled off a blanket, grabbed a handful of pillows, and made herself a small sleeping area in the space between the wall and the bed. It was a narrow space, barely enough for her to lie in, but it at least felt safe and familiar.

  She blew out the lights scattered around the perimeter of the room and snuggled into the small, dark place she'd made for herself.

  There was so much she didn't know, so many questions running through her mind. She knew she'd be awake most of the night trying to answer them.

  She was wrong. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillows.

  She dreamt.

  The sky was as black as spilled ink; the stars so plentiful it was as bright as midday. Badru sat before her, his hair tied back in the braid of a Rider; a sun stone around his neck gently pulsed to the beat of his heart. It quickened when he saw her.

  He smiled, gesturing her closer.

  She didn't join him. Her heart filled with the music of the Moon Dance and she began to move. She was one with the night as she danced across the sands, her hips swaying to the gentle rhythm of the world pulsing around her.

  Badru came to his feet, joining her, their bodies moving in perfect unity, the heat of his skin calling to hers, his mouth like honey as they kissed.

  The whole universe opened before them, the stars surrounding them as they danced on and on and on, lost in time and one another. The moment seemed to last an instant and forever as they held one another, their souls merging into one.

  Chapter 51

  K'lrsa was jolted awake by a foot kicking hers.

  "Up. Time to meet your poradoma and see if there's any hope of turning you into a dorana before I die." Herin stood at her feet, arms crossed.

  K'lrsa stood; the cool of the morning air from the open windows made her skin prickle. She couldn't believe she'd slept so soundly that anyone, let alone the small entourage standing in the middle of the room, had entered without waking her.

  Garzel leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. He was no longer the only one in a green robe. Three more men in green stood in the sitting area. One was probably K'lrsa's age—young and fiery with an edgy energy to him like he'd burst into motion at any moment. The others were older, closer to her father's age.

  The leftmost one had skin so dark it seemed to suck up the light. K'lrsa tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. He was large, too, towering over everyone and wider than any man she'd ever seen.

  He wasn't fat, no. Just, large. Powerful.

  The third man was forgettable. Average coloring, average build. Her eyes slid right past him to the two servants busy arranging trays of food on the low tables.

  K'lrsa walked forward, still nude. She saw no point in covering herself—the morning breeze felt refreshing, and she'd often walked through camp with no clothing or partially clothed when the mood suited her. Until, that is, she noticed the way the youngest man's eyes roved over her flesh like hands and the way the third man shook his head in dismay.

  She quickly grabbed the silken dress from the half-wall and threw it on.

  Herin smirked. "These men are your personal poradoma. They will do everything for you from here on out—clothe you, bathe you, feed you. Welcome to true royalty, Princess."

  She made a mock bow in K'lrsa's direction. K'lrsa glared at her. She was really starting to hate the woman.

  "Sayel. Step forward."

  At Herin's command, the large black-skinned man stepped forward, the loose robe that covered his body straining with each movement as muscles rippled below the fabric. He smiled and his teeth shone white against his skin.

  "K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe, this is Sayel Abadaro. He is your head poradom, the one in charge of your other poradoma. He is also in charge of you. Whatever he tells you to do, you must do." Sayel mopped at his brow and bowed slightly to her and to Herin.

  "Sayel is a third-generation poradom. Understand that it is a great honor to be a poradom. One entrusted to men the Daliph trusts above all others because they protect his most treasured possessions."

  The way she spoke, it was clear she was reminding Sayel and the other poradoma as much as she was explaining the poradoma to K'lrsa.

  "An honor to serve the Daliph and to guard you for his pleasure." Sayel bowed to K'lrsa and then introduced the other two poradoma as Tarum and Morlen. Tarum was the young one who'd leered at her. Morlen was the middle-aged man who was forgettable in every way.

  K'lrsa's stomach growled. The delicious smells of the food made her realize how hungry she was. "Very nice to meet you." She plucked a handful of grapes from a nearby tray.

  Herin slapped them out of her hand—the blow hard enough to sting.

  "Ow. What was that for?"

  "You're a dorana now."

  "I know. And?"

  Herin grabbed the grapes from the floor and shook them at her. "Doranas don't feed themselves. Their poradoma feed them."

  "It's just a handful of grapes."

  "It doesn't matter."

  K'lrsa glanced at the men who were silently watching them. "You mean I have to eat the same way you did last night? With someone shoving food into my mouth?"

  Sayel bit his lip, his eyebrows drawn tight in concern. "Herin…"

  She waved him aside. "She'll learn, Sayel. She has to if she ever wants to leave this room." She directed the last sentence at K'lrsa, her eyes like bottomless pits.

  K'lrsa bit back the hundred different things she wanted to say. "Fine." She looked at the three men in green. "Can someone please feed me some grapes?"

  Obviously that wasn't what she was supposed to say, because the poradoma looked shocked and the two servants who had just finished destroying the bed she'd made for herself, laughed, whispering quietly back and forth until a glance from Herin silenced them.

  "You must be prepared first."

  K'lrsa looked at Herin. "What does that mean?"

  Sayel snapped his fingers and Mor
len and Tarum left, returning quickly with an armful of clothing each. They started to lay out the articles of clothing on the bed; there were so many different items K'lrsa couldn't imagine what they were all for. And in such a riot of colors it was almost painful on the eyes.

  "Is this my new wardrobe?" K'lrsa asked.

  Sayel chuckled like a doting uncle asked a silly question by a young child. "Oh no, my dorana. This is what you'll wear today."

  "All of this?" She'd never thought she'd long for Mistress Hawthorne's ridiculous outfits, but they looked simple by comparison. "Why?"

  "Because you're a dorana. And this is what a dorana wears."

  "To eat breakfast?"

  "Always."

  She stepped towards the windows and gazed out at the clear sky. The sun shone weakly above her. "No. No, I won't do it. Tell the Daliph thank you very much, but I don't want to be one of his dorana."

  Sayel spoke slowly, like that would somehow make her understand. "It is a special honor to be declared a dorana. No one would refuse such an honor from their Daliph, even, especially, one such as yourself."

  "One such as myself?" K'lrsa turned on him, arms crossed tight against her chest to keep from striking him.

  "Yes. One who has come from nowhere and never worn fine silks nor eaten delectable meals. Look how many colors he gave you. Even blue. You can't refuse."

  "Yes, I can."

  The servants had stopped even pretending to work. They stared at her like she was some disfigured animal they'd never seen before, their expressions equal parts fascination and horror.

  Sayel stared at her, his mouth hanging open. Morlen and Tarum were equally stunned.

  Herin just rolled her eyes and shook her head. K'lrsa could almost hear her thinking how stupid the Daliph had been for selecting her.

  Sayel tried again. "To be a dorana is the highest honor a woman can receive."

  K'lrsa laughed. "The highest honor a woman can receive is to be smothered in clothing and not allowed to feed herself?"

  Sayel blinked and stepped backward slightly.