by Zoey Draven
The kerisa made a sound of surprise behind me. Then a growl escaped me, sudden and low. “Kalles, you will—”
She turned her back to me, looking at Arusan and Arlah. The older male had a speculative expression on his features, almost amused. He’d told me long ago that he enjoyed laughing, that he liked to do it whenever something pleased him. He looked on the verge of it now.
“My name is Nelle,” she told him, making his eyes widen and making me clench my jaw. Nelle. “It was nice to speak with you.” She looked down at the boy. “And you.”
Vok, she knew nothing of the Dakkari, knew nothing of our ways. I looked around at the small crowd and saw some of them murmuring to each other. There were those in attendance that understood the universal language, those that now knew her given name. And it would spread among the horde until all knew.
Nelle.
She turned and continued on her way—towards the pyroki pen—and I stared after her, irritation and frustration and a heavy dose of disbelief pulsing hot in my veins.
To the guard, I said, “I will send for you when I need you. I will handle this.”
“Lysi, Vorakkar.”
Gritting my jaw, I stalked after the kalles, leaving the crowd behind me, though I was sure some brave souls followed.
She was heading towards the pen and I stayed a short distance behind her, letting my temper cool before I spoke to her next. As I waited, I studied her. I studied the way she walked, the way she turned her head to regard any Dakkari that stared openly at her, the way she peered into an unlit drum fire she passed, as if trying to ascertain its purpose.
Vok, she even poked her head into the common bathing voliki, though her cheeks appeared reddened when she straightened and continued on her way.
She was a curious thing. Perhaps to a fault.
Finally, she halted at the pyroki pen, to the east of the encampment. The mrikro, the pyroki master charged with overseeing their care and training, was busy inside, ordering around a handful of spare horde warriors. They were still building the pyrokis’ nests for the cold season, though only a few more needed to be crafted.
I watched as the kalles pressed her belly to the fence, leaning on the rails heavily. She was tired, I realized. When I drew closer, I saw a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“You need to rest,” I growled, halting just behind her.
“I would rather be out here,” she said without looking at me. She sounded out of breath.
I blew out a sharp exhale, unused to my orders being ignored completely.
“Why did you do it?” she asked softly, not meeting my eyes. Instead, she looked at the mrikro, who paused when he saw us standing there.
She could be asking many things. Why did I punish her? Why did I take her? Why did I keep her in my voliki, knowing it would spark rumors among my horde? Why did I want so desperately to save her?
I decided to pretend she was asking the obvious question.
“Because under my Dothikkar’s laws, you had to be punished,” I told her, squeezing my fists at my sides. In my mind’s eye, I remembered the way her body jerked when that first lash fell over her exposed, delicate skin. She hadn’t cried out. She hadn’t made a sound.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, finally looking back at me. “Why did you stop at three?”
I stilled. The way she looked at me right then…her gaze was indifferent. I expected fear or perhaps disgust, but she gave me neither.
I lied. “Because you would not have lasted through the fifth.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “How many did you last through?”
She’d seen my back then, my own scars. And for once, my tongue failed me. I couldn’t answer her.
“Did you think my body would break first, or my mind?” she asked, tilting her head, as if she was curious how I would respond.
I was unable to read her. I couldn’t understand why she was asking these things. One thing I did know was that I regretted lying to her now. Part of me wanted to see how she would react if I told her the truth…that I had stopped because of Kakkari. That I had stopped because I recognized this female as mine.
Monster, my mind whispered.
“I have a strong mind,” she informed me, her voice smooth and light. “You might not think so. Many might not think so. But my mind would’ve withstood anything you gave me. My body would’ve broken long before.”
“I believe that, kalles,” I told her quietly.
Her hair was wet, I realized, curling black over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her small eyes were dark, tilted slightly up at the corners, and her upper lip was larger than her bottom one. She was small and too thin. She didn’t look like she could lift a bow, much less draw her arrow back. But I’d seen the evidence of her skill firsthand.
She seemed satisfied with my answer and when a pyroki ventured close to the fence, she turned her head to look at it. They were curious creatures as well, and I watched as she held her hand out to it without hesitation or fear. I watched with even more disbelief as the pyroki nudged the palm of her hand with its sharp snout, smelling her skin.
“Hello,” she whispered to it. It towered over her, but she didn’t seem afraid. I studied her again, my chest pulling tight with something I didn’t want to recognize.
“Have you encountered Dakkari before?” I asked, watching her and the pyroki closely.
“From afar, as they rode past our village on these creatures,” she responded.
“You do not seem to fear the Dakkari.”
“Should I?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me, frowning. “I’ve never had reason to.”
“I whipped you,” I rasped. “You believed you were walking to your execution and you say you never had reason to fear the Dakkari?”
“Your horde warrior whipped me,” she said, her brows furrowing in a glare.
“Under my orders!” I growled, my normally tame temper rising again.
“Do you wish for me to be angry with you?” she asked. “Do you wish for me to hate you or to cower in fear whenever you are close?”
Nik, I did not wish for any of those things, though I deserved all of them.
“I want to understand you,” was what I told her. “Because I do not know what to make of you.”
She sighed. She looked back to the pyroki. “I do not respond to things as others might. People in my village…it made them uncomfortable. They like it when you respond like them because it makes you predictable. Somehow predictability means you are safer to be around.”
I heard the sadness in her voice as surely as I heard the pounding of my heartbeat in my own ears.
“I neither like you nor dislike you,” she told me, looking back at me, holding my gaze. “And I do not hold grudges. You had to punish me because of your king and so you did. It is not my place to question the justness of your laws. This is your planet, after all, and I knew it was forbidden. But unless I break any more of your laws, I have no reason to fear you, yes?”
“You called me a demon,” I reminded her. “You seemed to fear me then.”
That drew an uncomfortable expression from her and her eyes darted away. “You are one,” she informed me, her voice certain and firm. “But maybe you cannot help it.”
I had the strangest urge to laugh, but I feared I’d forgotten how. This otherworldly creature, who both mesmerized and maddened me, drew me to the edge of something I’d never explored, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
But did I have a choice? She would pull me over to the other side whether I liked it or not.
Vodan’s words of caution flickered through my mind.
You cannot be swayed. And this female? She sways you. She will.
Sobering, I knew I had to tread carefully. I was a Vorakkar. Despite Kakkari’s guiding light, despite what I knew to be true, my horde would always come first. Vodan worried because he believed this female would make a home for herself in my mind, that I would forget who I was—what I’d b
ecome—because of her.
It was a ridiculous notion, but I had seen it happen before. It had happened to the Dothikkar. A female prostitute had whispered into his ear, asking him to grant me entrance into the Trials, though before, only those that came from ancient bloodlines were considered for the position of Vorakkar. I did not even carry my father’s name. I had grown up in the streets of Dothik. No one had known me. I’d stolen to eat. I’d lied to live.
It had sparked outrage in the capitol. Because of that prostitute—my mother—I entered the Trials, breaking centuries of tradition simply due to whispered suggestions and unspoken promises in the Dothikkar’s bed.
Females were powerful creatures. Dangerous ones. I’d learned that from my mother and I would not underestimate the vekkiri kalles standing in front of me, stroking the pyroki’s snout. The pyroki seemed just as enthralled by her as I was and I wondered if she did possess a power of her own.
“When can I return to my village?” she asked.
“You wish to?” I asked, my voice nothing but a dark rasp.
She shivered and I frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I am afraid to stay.”
“Why?”
She exhaled, her breath puffing out in front of her. She took her hand away from the pyroki, giving it one last pat.
“Because I think I could like it here,” she said. I noticed she patted the pocket in her freshly crafted pants and I saw something there. She’d done it almost unconsciously, as if reassuring herself. “And I don’t like being disappointed.”
Taking a step towards her, I saw the way her eyes flickered up to me in surprise when I drew close. I’d been a thief once, so she didn’t feel it when I slipped my fingers into her pocket.
But her dark eyes did go wide when I pulled the small bundle out swiftly and inspected what it was that she hid.
Her cheeks went a little red again and my lips pressed together when I saw it was wrapped food, squashed into a ball, the meat sticking to the kuveri loaf, blending the colors and textures together.
Though her cheeks were red, I noticed she tilted her chin up, meeting my eyes directly, as if daring me to challenge her.
“It is a hard habit to break,” I told her instead, “but you do not need to do this. Not here. There is always food, even in the cold season.”
Even still, I rewrapped the food and held it out to her, knowing she would feel more comforted having it close.
“Eat that by nightfall so the meat does not spoil,” I said. “I do not want you sick again.”
Her features were expressive, so I knew my words surprised her. She plucked the bundle from my hand, her small, cold fingers brushing mine, and hastily hid her food away again.
“And you should not give your name so freely,” I told her next.
She frowned. “Why not?”
“To the Dakkari, given names are important. Those who know yours have power over you.”
“What is your name then?” she tried, dangerous creature that she was, looking up at me in expectation.
I was tempted to grin. I was tempted to tell her. A selfish, foolish part of me wanted to, just to see how her mind would use it against me.
But I remembered Vodan’s warning and so I did not give her my name. Not then.
“You may continue calling me demon king if you wish, Nelle,” I rasped. Her lips parted at the sound of her name. “I like it.”
Chapter Eight
One, a drum fire sparking into the air.
Two, two Dakkari children running through a hidden maze only they could see between the tents.
Three, a guard at the entrance to the encampment, walking the line of it on patrol.
I closed my eyes, but then paused. I didn’t count silently in my head but let the sounds and the smells and the wind float over me. I heard a collection of deep murmurs among horde warriors that floated up to the horde king’s tent where I was sitting, perched just outside the entrance. I heard children laughing and yelling in merriment as they played. I felt the icy cold night breeze across my cheeks and swore I saw the gentle orange glow that seemed to hover over the camp behind my closed eyelids. I heard my assigned guard shift from one foot to the other behind me. I heard the Dakkari male in the enclosure I visited earlier barking orders, constructing something in the pen. I smelled the delicious scent of cooking meat combined with a crispness that told me the cold season winds were near.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that the moon, almost a half moon now, hung overhead in the night sky. Sighing, I tucked my knees closer to my chest, resting my chin on my bony kneecaps. My seated position pulled at the wounds on my back, but I tried to ignore it. I’d slept the day away on accident and I woke groggy, thirsty, and hungry to an eerily quiet tent. I’d chugged the water I’d found on the table and then taken out my saved meal, chewing it down quickly.
When I appeared outside the entrance, my guard had taken up his post again, though he didn’t protest when I sat in front of him.
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there. Long enough for my backside to grow numb from the cold ground and to watch the sky deepen from a soft lavender to a darkened indigo.
The horde camp was vibrant, even on the cusp of the season. My village was nothing like it. In the past, my village had held celebrations if there was a marriage, or if the Uranian Federation had dropped a large ration shipment. But they’d seemed like depressing events to me, where villagers where most concerned with when they would eat and who received the largest cut of the rationed meat.
There had been no children playing together—there were very few children in our village at all. Most villagers kept to their homes after dark. Laughter was rarely heard.
There was life here. And though it was cold, I didn’t want to give up the sounds of the horde for the oppressive quietness of the tent, as luxurious and warm as it was.
A dark figure approached the small incline up to the tent. I studied the way he walked, how his strong legs ate up the distance quickly, and marveled that someone so large could seem so graceful. I hadn’t seen him since that morning, at the enclosure, and I wondered what a horde king of Dakkar did with his day, what tasks he had to oversee.
“Why are you sitting out here, kalles?” he asked, frowning when he reached me.
“I don’t like to be inside much,” I told him. He towered above me, but I kept my eyes on the camp below.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to the guard. He said something in Dakkari, no doubt dismissing him for the night, and I watched the guard leave down the slope, disappearing behind a tent towards the middle of the camp.
Nerves began to creep up on me now that we were alone and away from the others. It made me wary, being alone with any male, especially after what Kier attempted with me.
I looked up at him from my seated position. “I was wondering where I go.”
“Go?” he murmured.
“Where I should sleep,” I corrected.
He exhaled a sharp breath. “You will sleep here tonight.”
“But…I’m not sick anymore,” I explained to him slowly, as if he didn’t understand what I was trying to tell him. When I’d slept in his bed with him—though unknowingly on my end—I’d been sick with infection and fever. That was different.
“My warriors have been busy preparing for the cold season,” he told me. “You will have your own voliki soon, but not tonight. Unless you wish to sleep out here…”
Frowning, I looked back to the camp. “Surely, there is a spare tent.”
“Nik,” he said. “New volikis are only built when a warrior takes a mate or when members join the horde.”
My shoulders sagged. Another figure approached the incline. It was a Dakkari female carrying a covered tray. Of food?
“Come inside, kalles. Come eat,” he told me before entering through the flaps himself, ducking low to maneuver his large body inside.
The female reached me just as I stood, but she brushed past me. When I caugh
t her eyes, they narrowed on me and there was a very decided chill emanating from her stare that had nothing to do with the crispness in the air.
She ducked inside after calling out in Dakkari at the tent’s entrance, announcing her arrival. Though Dakkari had certainty stared at me that day, none had seemed hostile or angry…simply curious, as if they’d never seen a human before.
When I took a small breath and ducked into the tent myself, I saw the female out of the corner of my eye. She was bending low at the table, unloading the heaping plates of food and a double loaf of the purple bread I liked. Among the plates were other things, but the food didn’t hold my attention for long.
The female was looking at the demon king from under her lashes, taking considerably longer to unload the tray than necessary.
When I looked at him, he was standing by the bed of furs, unbuckling the wide strap of leather attached to his sword’s sheath. He’d worn a heavy pelt of fur over his shoulders that day to protect him from the growing cold, but when he shrugged it off, I saw he was bare-chested underneath, revealing his gleaming, golden skin.
I forced myself to look away, though I felt something strange at the sight of him—intense curiosity and something else I didn’t want to place. When I looked back to the female, she was straightening, a small smile playing over her painted lips.
She said something in Dakkari, her voice soft and low.
“Nik,” the demon king replied, only sparing her the smallest glance. “Rothi kiv.”
The female’s smile dropped ever so slightly. When she saw me watching her, that coldness entered her gaze again and she stalked past, out the tent’s entrance, leaving me alone with the horde king.
The silence prickled at my skin. I longed to be outside, longed to be away from him.
To fill that silence, I informed him, “She wants you.”
Throughout the stages of my lifetime, I’d always observed the men and women in my village. I saw their secret smiles, I heard the unspoken meaning in their words. I’d singlehandedly discovered that Sam and Una were having an affair, despite their spouses not knowing. It seemed like a lot of work to me, the seemingly endless mating dance of humans. I wondered how Dakkari courted their chosen mates. Was it any different?
