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

by Alessandra Clarke

  Chapter 67

  K'lrsa dreamt of Badru that night. She didn't want to, but she couldn't stay awake another night.

  He was waiting for her when she entered the moon dream.

  He stood and held his hand out to her, begging her with his eyes to take it.

  She turned away, but he came after her, not touching her, but circling around in front of her, once more begging her to take his hand.

  She turned away again and saw the Lady Moon standing there watching them.

  "Why do you turn away from the one I chose for you, my daughter?"

  K'lrsa glared at her. "Do you know who he is?"

  "Badru, son of Jania, grandson of the one now called Herin."

  "And Daliph of the Toreem Daliphate."

  The Lady Moon approached, her face that of a young mother, all soft compassion and confusion. "Yes."

  "I swore to kill him."

  The Lady Moon laughed, the sound so joyous and pure that it made K'lrsa's heart ache with longing to feel that way herself.

  "Did you? Are you sure?"

  Before K'lrsa could ask more, the Lady Moon faded away. K'lrsa turned, but Badru was gone, too.

  She sat on the desert sands, watching the Hidden City in the distance, and tried to think.

  But all she could remember was the way she'd danced the Moon Dance with Badru, how perfect it had been, how their bodies had fit together as if made for one another.

  She awoke to the memory of his body pressed against hers, his hands stroking her skin.

  She wanted to hate him.

  She even told herself she did.

  But her dreams told the truth. Despite everything, her soul still yearned for him. He was still the only man she'd ever wanted.

  When the poradoma came to dress her, she let them, staring at a spot on the floor like she'd been taught. It did her no good to fight them. If she did, they'd just leave her alone in this room until she died.

  When they placed the golden tiral on her shoulders, K'lrsa met Herin's gaze and saw her nod slightly. They were taking her to see Badru.

  Why?

  "Come." Herin led the way to the audience chamber.

  As they walked, K'lrsa thought of her dream of the night before. Had the Lady Moon truly chosen Badru for her?

  And what had she meant about K'lrsa's vow?

  Was this all the work of the Trickster?

  She felt so turned around, she didn't know what to do.

  This time no one stopped them from entering the audience chamber. And K'lrsa could actually see because Herin had told Sayel not to use the eyedrops.

  The room they led her to was a large circular space with a domed ceiling at least three or four stories above them. Tiles covered the ceiling in a mesmerizing pattern of colors—reds and yellows, greens and blues, whites and blacks and oranges—all winding together yet somehow sharp and distinct.

  Light streamed through large windows spaced evenly around the room just below the tiles—each one the size of a tall horse.

  Hundreds of men sat on low cushions at a series of long curved tables that radiated out from a central dais that dominated the far wall of the room. The men mostly wore shades of muted brown. Here or there a man wore a single-colored headband or belt, but most wore no color at all except for those directly in front of the dais. There, a few men sat in robes of one color—red or yellow—or a man wore multiple colors but never more than two.

  The men spoke in low murmurs but the combined weight of their voices was almost deafening.

  Along the walls, guards dressed in white with multi-colored belts striped yellow, blue, green, and red watched the crowd with intense eyes, hands resting on their swords.

  The dais had three levels. On the lowest level were the men in the solid-colored robes of yellow and red. On the level above them sat four dorana—each a bright spot of color in the otherwise drab room. The one on the far left had dusky skin and pouty lips. She wore mostly green and yellow and had one golden cuff on her ear. She was young and beautiful and K'lrsa hated her on sight.

  She must be the one who had laughed that day.

  Beside her was an older woman, her skin more yellow than brown, but somehow exotic instead of sickly. She wore mostly green and had two cuffs on her ear. She was more attractive than any woman K'lrsa had ever seen. She carried herself with assurance as if she owned the room even though she carefully kept her gaze averted.

  Before K'lrsa could look to the other two dorana, her gaze was drawn upward to the highest tier.

  Badru sat alone on a large chair that shone golden under the noonday sun.

  He wore a blue vest, his arms bare to show leanly-muscled arms. His pants were striped in every color, his narrow waist bound with a green belt that matched her own. He stared at her, his piercing blue eyes holding hers, but his expression as cold as stone.

  "Psst." Herin hissed at her and K'lrsa dropped her gaze, reminding herself that she must be the ever-dutiful dorana if she wanted to go any farther.

  Twenty steps. That's all that separated her from Badru.

  And when she closed that gap?

  What would she do?

  Attack? Finally have her revenge and be done with it all.

  Or should she listen to the Lady Moon, and her heart? Should she wait until she knew for sure?

  She had twenty steps to decide.

  Sayel placed his hand on her back and gently guided her towards the dais, the eyes of every man in the room on her as she stepped forward. They whispered softly to one another, a low susurrus of sound spreading through each section of the room as she passed.

  She forced herself to keep her gaze focused on the floor, but it was hard not to look.

  When she was almost to the dais, just five steps from making her fateful decision, a man at the table next to her said to his neighbor, just loud enough so she could hear, "I'd heard he'd taken a desert whore as his dorana, but I didn't believe it until now."

  "I know," the other replied just as softly. "Good thing she has the poradoma to feed her or she'd probably dunk her face right in the serving bowl and slurp it up like a horse at trough."

  The men laughed.

  K'lrsa turned on the man who'd made the joke; she tried to strike him but was unable to raise her hand enough to do so. He choked on his food, staring bug-eyed at her.

  Sayel pulled her back. "Look down. Now. You are a dorana of the Toreem Daliphate, not some unschooled savage that would stare down a strange man. Remember yourself." His fingers dug into the back of her neck, forcing her head down.

  K'lrsa cried out.

  "What is this?" Badru called. She looked up to see him standing, his fists clenched in anger as he watched them.

  He strode down the dais, his personal guard rushing to keep pace with him.

  "Pzah," Herin muttered, before shutting her mouth on the rest of what she wanted to say.

  "What is this?" Badru demanded, standing in front of them.

  Sayel bowed low. "Nothing, most honored leader. Your dorana just forgot herself for a moment."

  "K'lrsa, did he harm you?" Badru lifted her chin, searching her eyes.

  "Sayel? No. He's right. I forgot myself."

  "You cried out like he'd hurt you."

  She shook her head. "It's fine. Nothing really. Sayel was just reminding me of my proper duties as a dorana. These men made a comment about my being a desert whore and eating my food like a horse at trough. I reacted before I could stop myself. I…I looked at them. I'm sorry."

  She bowed her head, ashamed at her actions.

  And then angry as she realized what she'd just done. She'd apologized!

  Apologized because two men had called her a whore and compared her to a horse and she'd dared to react.

  She shook with anger. And fear. The role of the dorana was so easy to assume now.

  Badru turned to the table. "Is this true? Which of you said this of my dorana?" His voice was eerily calm. Every man at the table sat up straighter; the closest tw
o men shifted away from him.

  Herin stepped forward. "Most honored leader, men will jest. I'm sure they meant nothing of it."

  Badru shook his head. "I am the Daliph. She is my dorana. An insult to her is an insult to me."

  Herin looked as if she wanted to say more, but stepped back, exchanging a quick glance with Sayel.

  "Which of you said it?"

  "I did, most honored leader." The first man met Badru's eyes, defiant, chin held high.

  "And I laughed, most honored leader." The other man also met Badru's gaze without flinching.

  K'lrsa noted that they each wore two colors.

  Badru looked back and forth between the men, his expression flat but his eyes blazing with anger. "Eight lashes each."

  A gasp ran through the room, building into a roar of argument. Badru strode back to his seat, ignoring it all.

  "Enough," he roared down at them.

  Silence fell immediately.

  Guards in white escorted the two men to the base of the dais, firm but respectful. Whoever these men were, they were powerful.

  And Badru was going to have them whipped? For her sake?

  Or his own pride?

  She didn't know and couldn't ask.

  The first man shook off his guard's grip and stepped forward. "Most honored leader. Please reconsider. It was just harmless talk. I've always been one of your most loyal supporters, you know this."

  "Do I, Pavel? You insulted my choice of dorana, which means you insulted me." Badru's face was as dark as a spring thunderstorm.

  "I never meant to. And you must admit, it is a unique choice you've made." The man knelt in front of the dais, his head bowed.

  Badru's lips pressed even tighter together before he looked away from the man and addressed the crowd. "An insult to my dorana is an insult to me. Let all know it. Prepare them while my dorana takes her place."

  The man at the base of the dais stared up at Badru, his mouth open as if this was the last thing he'd expected.

  "Should I make it ten, Pavel?"

  "No. No, most honored leader."

  Sayel led K'lrsa to a blue cushion on the far end of the level below Badru and helped her remove her tiral so she could sit. She didn't look at Badru or the crowd even though she knew they were all watching her.

  When she was seated, Badru spoke to the room yet again. "My dorana will watch. Let none speak ill of them for doing so."

  K'lrsa dutifully raised her gaze to watch the guards lead a now bare-chested Pavel to a post off to the side of the dais. The man was older, his skin sagging from what had once been a muscular frame. He wiped sweat from his brow as he glanced towards Badru, waiting for a reprieve.

  None came.

  A man dressed in red bound Pavel's hands to the post. "You are sentenced to eight lashes for insult to the person of the Daliph. Have you aught to say?"

  Pavel shook his head.

  "Very well. Grab the post."

  Pavel gripped the post and closed his eyes.

  The entire room held its breath as the man in red raised the whip and brought it down, the crack as it met Pavel's flesh reverberating around and around the space which suddenly seemed small.

  Pavel screamed, keening in agony.

  K'lrsa wanted to close her eyes, but she didn't. She forced herself to watch every blow and to listen to every scream.

  Badru didn't flinch, but others did, muttering quietly to one another as they glanced at the scene before them. Some nodded in satisfaction, but far more looked scared, upset that their Daliph would beat a man over such a minor thing.

  By the eighth blow, Pavel was weeping, his back crisscrossed with livid red marks. K'lrsa felt ill, swaying in her seat. Sayel stroked her arm and murmured his support.

  As the guard motioned the second man forward, K'lrsa sent a silent prayer for strength to Father Sun.

  She willed herself to watch as that man, too, was whipped, crying and screaming with each blow, the blood flowing freely down his back.

  When it was done, Badru nodded and sat on his throne once more. "I trust everyone has learned now? Good. Nesbit, call the first supplicant."

  Chapter 68

  K'lrsa sat through a series of supplicants asking judgement or favors from Badru. She didn't listen to what they had to say, too upset after watching the men whipped to pay any attention.

  They shouldn't have said that about her. In the tribes she would've slapped the man who'd insulted her and been done with. But they hadn't deserved to be whipped, their backs cut open and bleeding.

  She was close enough to Badru to attack him, but she didn't, too numb to even think of doing so.

  Had he really been defending her? Or just himself?

  When they returned to her rooms, Morlen and Tarum undressed her while Sayel paced back and forth, clearly agitated.

  He finally stopped and turned to Herin. "I think we should give her training over to Antoon."

  Garzel stepped between Sayel and K'lrsa, but Herin signaled him back.

  "No."

  "With all due respect, Omala, this is a matter for the poradoma to decide. You have no power here."

  Herin grunted. "I'm a woman, I have no power anywhere in the Daliphate. And yet you'll listen to me anyway. Giving her over to Antoon would be a mistake."

  Sayel rubbed at his face. "I can't do more than I already have. And yet she still fails. Antoon will fix her."

  "Antoon will break her."

  Herin and Sayel faced off, neither one backing down. The room suddenly felt too small for so many people.

  Herin took a deep breath. "Sayel, you can't do this. If Antoon trains her he will destroy everything that makes her appealing to the Daliph."

  "She'll be a proper dorana."

  "He doesn't want a proper dorana. Don't you understand that?"

  K'lrsa glanced at the other two poradoma. Morlen looked worried, running K'lrsa's belt through his hands over and over again. Tarum glared at Herin's back as if he might attack her at any moment.

  Sayel shook his head. "It is the duty of the poradoma to train the dorana to her tasks. When she fails, we fail."

  "Don't do this, Sayel."

  They squared off until Sayel finally turned away. "One more chance, Herin. If she fails, I give her to Antoon to train."

  Herin nodded. "Fair enough."

  As everyone milled around, unsure what to do next, Herin shooed them towards the door. "Go. We'll begin again tomorrow, but for tonight she needs a break."

  Sayel hesitated. "What if he comes to see her?"

  "He won't."

  "But what if he does? If he were to come and find her without her poradom and without her meza…The shame of it…"

  "Oh, pzah. There's no shame in it. You men and your honor. If he comes he'll want to be alone with her anyway. Leave. Now."

  Sayel's shoulders stiffened, but he ordered the poradoma to leave, removing the meza from K'lrsa's fingers before he followed them.

  After they were gone, a long silence filled the room. K'lrsa stood by the window staring up at the sky as the sun set behind the mountain, washing the clouds in a brilliance of color—red, orange, yellow. For a moment it looked as if the sky was on fire. And then the sun disappeared and twilight fell.

  She fingered the beautiful purple flowers in the box outside the window, amazed that they still bloomed even with the chill in the air. She'd seen the servants bring new flowers each morning to replace the ones that died each night. Sayel said they grew them year-round just for the dorana.

  The strong aroma of the flowers filled the air as she crushed a petal under her fingers. She missed the simplicity of the desert where everything had its season.

  Herin and Garzel argued quietly in the corner by the door, their gestures occasionally intense as they discussed something K'lrsa couldn't and didn't care to hear.

  She sighed, wondering what she wanted to do now. She'd had the chance to kill Badru, but she hadn't taken it.

  And why?

  Becau
se he'd lashed out at those men? Defended her?

  She thought of her father who was always so gentle, reasoned, and calm. Would he have ever ordered a man whipped, even if he could?

  No.

  And yet Badru hasn't hesitated to do so.

  And maybe it wasn't for K'lrsa's sake but his own. To protect his pride in front of so many men. How many times had Sayel lectured her on how a dorana was merely a reflection of her Daliph?

  She needed to make a decision.

  If she wasn't going to kill Badru, then she needed to go home.

  If she was, then she needed to act the next time she had the opportunity.

  Neither prospect appealed to her in that moment. Nothing appealed to her.

  She stared up at the sky, longing to see the Lady Moon.

  She turned back to Herin and Garzel, shivering as the night turned colder. "So what now, Herin? Sayel's right. I'll never be a proper dorana. We can spend days drilling me on what I should do, but you and I both know it's not who I am."

  Herin pursed her lips. "I know." She glanced over at Garzel and he nodded slightly. "Which is why I'm going to help you escape before that fool boy destroys the entire Daliphate over you."

  K'lrsa choked on her surprise. "Why?"

  "You saw what he did today. He had one of the most powerful men in the Daliphate whipped. And for what? Because he said what everyone else was thinking?"

  "The man called me a whore and said I'd eat out of a horse trough if given the chance."

  Herin nodded. "Exactly."

  "If I hadn't been wearing all those ridiculous layers, I would've hit him."

  "He would've been perfectly within his rights to beat you to death if you'd so much as touched him."

  K'lrsa waited for Herin to say she'd been exaggerating, but of course she hadn't.

  What kind of world allowed a man to beat a woman to death because she defended herself against him?

  "That's awful."

  "That's the world you live in now. You are a slave, K'lrsa. Property. Badru can call you whatever he wants to and dress you up as pretty as he pleases, but everyone knows that you are nothing more than a tribal trash slave dressed up as a dorana. And you always will be."