by Zoey Draven
She was gone. She’d left.
On her bed, something glinted in the blue, stale light and I snatched it up. Turning it over in my palm, I saw it was the necklace I’d given her from the deviri. It was icy cold. The sight of it gutted me because I knew what it meant. She’d thought it a gift of pity and had left it, left me, behind. And my thissie’s pride burned bright when she was wronged, rightfully so.
Vodan said a warrior had taken her. Odrii, I knew. I’d seen him a few days ago, however, so he must’ve guided her back to her village and then returned himself. Just now, I remembered the darkened looks he’d speared my way, but I’d been so mentally detached that I hadn’t given them a second thought.
Worry and fear washed over me, but I was already pushing out of the voliki, making my way towards the pyroki enclosure. Vodan had followed and caught up with me just as I reached it.
“What are you doing, Seerin?” Vodan hissed under his breath. It was dark, the encampment quiet. “You cannot leave.”
I clenched my fist around the necklace. All I could think was that my thissie had willingly returned to her village, where she’d been half-starved for most of her life and almost raped. A place where no one had claimed her, protected her, loved her, as she deserved.
The thought that she would rather return there than stay in the horde was cutting enough.
And why would she stay? I thought bitterly. I told her I would have to take another as my Morakkari, that she would have to accept that.
If our positions were reversed, would I be able to stand aside and watch as she took another? Would I be able to withstand knowing that she took him into her arms, into her bed?
Nik, it would’ve killed me.
I growled, pushing past Vodan, jumping over the fence enclosure.
I’d been callous and cold to suggest such a thing to her. Like the monster I’d always known I was. The same monster that had ordered her whipping, that had pushed her away when she’d only ever wanted to be mine, that had knowingly hurt her with my words. She deserved better than me. Much better.
“Lokkas,” I called, heading towards my beast’s nest. I didn’t care if it was the dead of night. I needed to go to her. It had been two weeks already. What if something had happened to her? What if she’d been hurt—what if her village had turned her away? “Lokkas!”
Her village was a two-day ride away. I could make the journey even quicker if I didn’t stop.
“Seerin,” Vodan said, following me into the enclosure. Lokkas emerged from his nest. “You are not thinking clearly.”
“I am,” I growled, jumping up on Lokkas’ back. “For the first time in two weeks, I am thinking clearly.”
Vok, all the wasted time!
Fool, fool, fool!
“You already made your decision,” Vodan argued, holding Lokkas in place when I tried to steer him from the enclosure. “Do not make this mistake.”
“It was a mistake to let her go,” I told him. “It was a mistake to allow the council to steer my decisions as Vorakkar. Now stand away, pujerak.”
“Seerin—”
“I will bring her back,” I promised, staring down at him. We had known one another so long that he heard the fierce determination in my words. “Inform the council. Leave the horde if you must. Lead the others who do not wish to stay back to Dothik.” His lips parted in disbelief. “From now on, I make my own decisions. She is what is best for the horde. I only regret it has taken me this long to realize that.”
Without waiting, I pulled Lokkas away before kicking him up into a sprint.
A horde was only as strong as its Vorakkar. And a Vorakkar was only as strong as his Morakkari.
She is the strongest of us all, I thought, regret and grief mingling with my need for her.
I didn’t care if I had to beg. I would go to her on my hands and knees, though a Vorakkar kneeled for no one.
This Vorakkar will kneel for his Morakkari, I thought, determined.
I would win my thissie back. I had to.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The smell of my own vomit made nausea rise again and I dry-heaved over the wooden basin. There was nothing left for me to throw up. I only ate my carefully rationed food in the early evening, once I was certain the sickness had passed.
When my stomach felt settled, I wiped my mouth on the nearby cloth and sank back on my heels, staring at the wooden wall of the home I’d lived in for countless years of my life. Upon my return to my village, I’d found no one had taken it over, probably because it was in serious disrepair and let in much of the cold. My table and chest had been looted, however, leaving only a broken chair behind. The hole-ridden old furs from my makeshift bed had disappeared. Even my bow was gone.
It was smaller and colder than I remembered, but over the last two and a half weeks, I’d tried to fix it up as best as I was able to. I took snow from outside, melted it, and scrubbed the floors and walls, erasing years of grime and dirt. I ripped some of my pelt away and used the pieces to patch some of the holes in the wood that let in the worst of the draft. I could do nothing about a fire, however. Since the Dark Forest was frozen over, I had no fuel to use and no starter, not to mention a proper basin.
Still, it kept me busy, at least for the first few days after returning to my village, which had already created quite a stir.
I ignored the questions, the stares, the whispers. I’d been stared at my whole life, so it was nothing new. I’d kept my head down, spoke to no one, and went about my life, as I had always done before.
After living among the Dakkari horde, where I’d had friends, companionship, purpose, and a true home, I felt even more isolated, even more lonely than I’d ever remembered being. Because now, I knew what I was missing. Because now, I knew what true happiness felt like and losing it was debilitating.
Staring into the dirtied basin—feeling some of the numbness that had shrouded me for two and half weeks slip away in favor of fear—I knew that soon, everything would change.
The morning sickness had come even before I’d left the encampment, though at that time, I hadn’t even remotely suspected what I knew to be true now. It had only happened twice and I’d forgotten about it completely until I arrived back at my village. Two days in, I’d had nausea since waking. Thinking it was just heartache, that it was just missing him, I wrote it off. Until the next morning, it returned with a vengeance. And the next morning…and the next morning…and the next morning after that.
Two weeks in, it hadn’t let up. Though I emptied my stomach in the mornings and ate very little in the evenings to extend my rations as long as possible, my belly was growing rounder, my breasts fuller. It was almost alarming how quickly my body was changing, until I realized that the Dakkari might have a quicker gestation period than humans.
I was pregnant.
And the father of my child had broken my heart. The father of my child would claim another female as his wife…and I would likely never see him again. He would never know he even had a son or a daughter.
I was too numb to truly feel anything about the pregnancy other than dread. Dread and fear because I didn’t want to raise a child in this village. I didn’t want my child to know hunger and cold. It was the last thing I wanted.
But it was done. I was already pregnant. I had to accept it.
And sitting there, staring into the dirty basin full of my vomit, feeling the chilly draft weaving through my poorly patched holes, I knew that I could not subject my child to this life. I thought of Grigg, who controlled the credits, who controlled our food. I thought of Kier, who’d sneered when he’d seen me walk through the village gates. I thought of the whispers and wondered how the village would treat a half-human, half-Dakkari child.
Not well.
Many blamed the Dakkari for our way of life. Would they take out their anger and frustration and fear on my child?
I couldn’t allow that to happen.
Something sparked in me right then, the first flicker of strong em
otion I’d allowed myself to feel. It was determination. Determination to provide my unborn child with a better life than I’d had. It was the need to protect.
But how?
Another horde, I thought, the answer coming easily.
Odrii had told me that another Vorakkar had taken a human as his Morakkari. The horde king of Rath Kitala. Until now, I hadn’t realized that Dakkari and humans could create offspring together, but if I was pregnant…it was very likely the human Morakkari was pregnant as well, or had even delivered a child already.
Would she help me? Our children would be different from all the rest, but it was likely they would find comfort in one another. A Dakkari horde with a human queen would be more accepting of a half-Dakkari child, certainly more than my village would be. Safer.
I could be useful to them too. I knew how to craft arrows of Dakkari steel. Before I’d left, my mitri had just begun teaching me the technique for crafting swords. If the horde had a weapons master, I could assist them. If not, I would learn whatever skill was required of me to be of use.
There was only one problem, however. Finding them. The realization made my shoulders slump.
It was almost impossible for me to know where a specific horde would be. All I knew was that Seerin was leading his horde south after the thaw. I knew nothing of Rath Kitala’s whereabouts.
Then I will search for them after the thaw, I thought. I knew there were Dakkari outposts spread out among Dakkar. Perhaps they would help me locate the horde, or perhaps I would come across another on my way. No longer was I wary of the Dakkari. Humans feared them like they were monsters who would attack on sight. But I knew better. Approaching them didn’t frighten me.
Until I found them, I could survive on my own as I searched. I was a hunter who could kill more than grounders, or rikcrun as I now knew they were called. I had seen enough volikis to know I could create a suitable makeshift shelter once I collected enough hides and dried them. I knew where to search for water.
I had time to plan. I had time to create another bow. The thaw was over a month away. I didn’t know when the child would come, but I knew that I wanted to be in a safe place before the birth.
It was a risk, leaving my village, but it was a risk I was willing to take for the sake of my child. For the sake of our future. A happy future.
I settled my hands over my already growing belly, feeling a hesitant hope well in my chest.
“We can do this,” I whispered softly to an empty, darkened, cold room. “I will protect you. I promise.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Where is she?” I rasped to the vekkiri male I recognized as the village’s leader, who’d approached the moment I swung off Lokkas’ back. Ice clung to the black pelt around my shoulders and my face felt chaffed and raw from the wind.
The journey had been short, yet impossibly long, stretching from one moment to the next as I raced to reach Nelle. I had only stopped once to allow Lokkas rest, and to hunt a couple rikcrun for us to eat, which was the easiest meat to catch during the cold season in that part of Dakkar. Beyond that, we had ridden through the night, through the morning, and the afternoon. Now, darkness had long settled over the land. It was the early hours of morning.
The leader looked shocked and wary that I was there, holding up a flickering lantern between us. His eyes squinted behind me, no doubt looking for my warriors in the dark.
“Where is she?” I repeated in the universal tongue. I had not spoken the language in over two weeks and it felt both achingly familiar and strange on my tongue.
The prospect that my horde could be waiting out in the dark, beyond his line of sight, was leaving him shaken. His hand trembled as he pointed towards the back of the small village, towards a row of wooden, short homes. “I’ll show you.”
The village was quiet and sparse. Their homes were made of wood, some with small, smudged windows and chipped doors. The stench of waste permeated the village, as if they hadn’t properly disposed of it. Faces appeared in the dirtied windows we passed—males, females, even children peering out. Gaunt, mistrustful, wary faces.
This was where my thissie had grown up, where she had lived, where she had willingly returned to.
My fists clenched at my sides. I was not indifferent to their suffering. It was similar suffering to what I’d seen in Dothik as a child.
The leader pointed to the end of a row of four houses. “That is hers,” he said in a hushed voice.
Faint yellow light spilled from several cracks I saw in the walls, in the doors. I didn’t wait another moment and stalked to it, needing to ensure she was safe. I’d thought of nothing else as I’d ridden to her village.
When I pushed open her door, something within crashed. I heard a sharp intake of breath and the unmistakable sound of Dakkari steel whistling from a sheath. I stepped inside, carefully not to let the cold in, and closed the brittle door behind me.
Nelle was within, kneeling on the floor among furs. It was her bed, I realized with another sharp ache in my chest. She slept on the floor with only a single fur for warmth. She’d been asleep, a small lantern burning next to her…in addition to a Dakkari dagger. It wasn’t the one I’d given her, but I recognized the weapons master’s work.
The sight of her released something in me, something tight and painful.
“Nelle,” I said softly, drinking her in. My palm trembled as I ran it down my face, wiping away some of the ice melting from my hair.
Her eyes were on me. However, her expression was unreadable for possibly the first time since I’d encountered her. She didn’t even look shocked to see me barge into her village home.
“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly, lowering the dagger. Had she needed to use it already? The thought made me want to bellow in frustration, especially when I realized the object that had crashed when I pushed inside was a broken chair. She’d wedged it up against the door as she slept. For added security and protection? I should be protecting her.
“You should not be here, thissie,” I said, my words stilted. I’d been on Lokkas for over a full day and a full night. I’d had time to think what to say to her once I found her, so why were the words sticking in my throat? “You belong with the horde.”
“I left,” she said, as if it weren’t obvious. Still, I could not read my normally expressive kalles. Her eyes were dark in the low light and they gave away nothing. Not even the normal glimmer of curiosity that almost constantly shone there. It worried me.
“Without telling me,” I rasped, raking a hand through my tangled hair. “Without…”
“I did not realize I needed your permission to leave,” she said, pushing up from the floor, standing. She was dressed in her pelt and the clothes that the seamstress had made for her. “I was not a prisoner there.”
“Nik, I meant—”
“You should not be here,” she said, levelling her gaze at me. I was so used to seeing her eyes filled with warmth and amusement and life that seeing them so empty brought me physical pain. Because I’d done that to her. “You should be with your horde.”
“The moment I found out you were gone, I came straight here,” I said, approaching her, bridging the short distance between us. “I did not even realize you were gone until last night. And when I found out…”
I didn’t want to relive that freezing fear, though I would remember it always. It would forever mark me, like the scars on my back.
Even then, that fear had only begun to thaw now that she was within my line of sight.
“It was a mistake, Nelle,” I murmured, reaching out to cup her face. Her skin felt cold for the brief moment I touched her, before she stepped away. “It was a mistake choosing the horde over you.”
Her expression didn’t change. “No, you knew what you were doing. I think you always knew.”
My fists clenched and I barely suppressed a wince before I pleaded, “Come back with me. We will work on this, thissie. I promise.”
“I left for a reason, S
eerin,” she said. “Knowing what I know now, going back with you will not change anything.”
“And what is it that you know?” I rasped.
There was a crack in her expression. Just a small one, but it showed me the pain I’d caused her, the pain I wished I could take from her a thousand times over. I would rather go through the Dothikkar’s Trials again, if only to take a sliver of it away.
“That is was just a fantasy,” she whispered. I flinched when my words were flung back into my face. “A dream. It wasn’t real.”
“Nelle,” I said, my brows furrowing. “It was real. It is. I need you to believe that.”
How could she when I’d given her no reason to?
Determination coursed through me. I needed to give her a reason. I needed to give her thousands of reasons.
“I love you,” I rasped, threading my hands in her hair, forcing her to meet my eyes so she would see the truth in them. “Lo kassiri tei. I love you, rei thissie. You know this, Nelle.”
She’d asked me that morning if I’d ever loved her. And it gutted me to know that I hadn’t said a single word in reply. I let her believe I didn’t. I thought it would be kinder if she hated me. It would make it easier…
Vok.
“I don’t,” she whispered, looking deep into my eyes, though she still kept herself locked away. “I don’t believe you, Seerin. Not anymore.”
Stunned, I released her. Had I damaged us beyond saving?
“Please, just go,” she said, wrapping her arms around her waist, turning slightly away from me.
Nik, I thought.
I swallowed, though determination coursed through me. She might hate me for it later, but I knew that I would not allow her to stay there.
“I am not returning without you, Nelle,” I said. Her eyes flickered to me, a slight frown on her lips. “If I have to drag you back, I will.”
Disbelief shone in her eyes, but at least it was better than indifference, than emptiness.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “You ended this, remember? You did. And I don’t have the mental energy or the will to be your plaything anymore, Seerin. I don’t trust your words and I certainly don’t trust why you’re here.”
