by Zoey Draven
I inhaled a long breath, knowing that what I would say would incite more of his anger. I refused to feel guilty about it, however, as I told him, “I know that the Vorakkar of Rath Kitala took a human Morakkari.” He’d never told me himself. I’d learned it from Odrii. Looking back, I realized Seerin never wanted me to know. Because he thought it would give me hope for a future with him? “I thought it was very possible she was also pregnant or had already given birth to a child. I was planning to seek them out after the thaw.”
His nostrils flared. “You were planning to brave the wild lands pregnant with no knowledge of where his horde was?”
“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin.
“Do you know how foolish that is?” he growled.
“Yes,” I said again. “Believe me, I know. But I felt I had no other choice. I would not raise my child in this village. I would not subject him or her to hunger and cold and contempt.” His lips pressed together and I watched his throat bob with his heavy swallow.
“Our child, Nelle,” he corrected.
“Oh, yes,” I said, my hurt finally making an appearance. “You would rather have me raise our child in your horde. You would rather have me watch you take another as your Morakkari, to endure as she bore you your heirs while I raised our child. I believe you told me I would have to accept it because it was your duty.”
My bitter words hit him but his small flinch didn’t make me feel any better.
“I was wrong to say that to you, thissie,” he murmured. “You will never know how sorry I am. But the wild lands are punishing and dangerous. To think that after the thaw, you were going to…”
He shuddered, his jaw clenching, and he looked away. A sharp wind whistled through the trees and I shivered, waiting.
“What about us?” he finally asked, his voice guttural and husky.
Carefully, I told him, “This doesn’t change anything between us, Seerin. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now, I can see why you did what you did. The choice you had to make.”
“Thissie—”
“But right now, my only priority is the child,” I finished, cutting him off, straightening. “Nothing more.”
His jaw ticked again. He wanted to argue, I could see it just as I saw his decision to leave it for another time. He’d gotten what he wanted. I would return to the horde with him willingly.
“Very well, rei thissie,” he murmured. “I will accept that.”
For now. It went unspoken, hovering in the air between us.
He knew that and I knew that.
“We will return to the horde.”
Chapter Forty-One
The council stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Vorakkar—” one of the elders began, but I cut him off before he had a chance to speak.
“Nik, I will hear no more,” I growled. “I am disbanding the council. Hordes have existed for generations without them. This one will too.”
I would make sure of it. My horde would not fail because of it.
It was the first gathering I’d called since returning with Nelle over a week ago. The thaw was coming, there was much to accomplish within the horde, much to organize for our impending journey south, and yet, I’d made my decision to let the members of my council go.
“If this is because of the vekkiri, I must—”
“I said enough.”
The second elder closed his mouth, biting his tongue.
“That vekkiri,” I rasped, my tone sharp, “will become my Morakkari.” I was as determined about that as anything else. Even if it took me years of convincing her, of rebuilding the trust she’d lost in me, I would do it.
The three elders shifted on their feet. My head warrior said nothing. My pujerak simply looked at me.
“She is carrying my child,” I told them, my voice roughening with too many emotions to place. Vodan’s breath whistled out of him in a deep sigh while the others froze. “Do not disrespect her in front of me again. A slight against her is a slight against me.”
The council was silent in response.
“I will not turn you away from the horde after the thaw,” I rasped. “You made it clear that if I took her as my Morakkari, you would leave. That decision is yours, but no longer will I look to you as my advisors. I will make the decisions when it comes to my horde from now on. If it fails, it fails. That is the risk I am willing to take.”
I had nothing more to say.
To lead a horde without the support of a council would be more difficult, more stressful. And perhaps, in time, a new council would emerge, one better suited and more supportive of Rath Tuviri’s future.
I didn’t wait for them to respond. I didn’t expect a response, not even from Vodan. Instead, I left the voliki, my purpose in meeting with them complete. My only regret was the distance between Vodan and I. We’d barely spoken since my return from the village. His threat to leave the horde had forever changed our friendship.
It was early evening, though the sky was dark. Nelle would still be with Avuli, but I’d requested the healer’s presence that night at my voliki.
When I reached the seamstresses’ home, I heard Nelle’s muffled laugh within and it made my entire body feel heavy, weighed down. I hadn’t heard her laugh in over a month, or seen her smile. The past week of being back in the horde had been a series of quiet, stilted conversations with her. She insisted on staying in her own voliki. She’d resumed her daily schedule, spending the mornings with the mitri and her afternoons and early evenings with Avuli, Arlah, and sometimes Odrii.
I looked for her always and on the rare occasion she was alone, walking through the camp, we spoke. But her guard was up, her expression closed. The conversations had mostly consisted of me asking if she was eating, how her sickness was in the mornings, whether she’d slept well the night before.
There was a barrier between us, one I’d laid the foundation for and that she’d constructed, and I didn’t know how to break through it.
Time, I thought. It would take time.
I ducked my head into the seamstresses’ voliki and saw Nelle watching Avuli chase Arlah around the domed tent. Avuli pulled up short when she saw me and inclined her head, startled.
“Vorakkar,” she murmured in greeting.
“I do not mean to interrupt,” I told her, my eyes going to Nelle, “but the kerisa awaits us.”
Nelle nodded, the small smile on her face fading slightly at my sudden appearance. She pushed up to a stand and grabbed her pelt from where it lay by the fire basin, fastening it over her shoulders.
“Srikkisan?” Arlah asked Nelle in Dakkari.
It meant tomorrow in the universal tongue.
“Lysi,” Nelle said softly, pressing her hand to his cheek. “Lo terri tei srikkisan.”
I will see you tomorrow, she said, her Dakkari slightly accented but clear. Her knowledge of our language grew with every passing day, it seemed.
Arlah nodded and Nelle said goodbye to Avuli, squeezing the seamstresses’ hand as she passed. I held the entrance of the voliki open for her as she stepped out.
Nelle met my eyes briefly before she looked straight ahead. I hadn’t seen her since that morning. And maybe it was hearing her laugh, maybe it was knowing that she opened herself to others, maybe it was missing her so damned much, but at that moment, I couldn’t stomach the distance that only seemed to grow between us. I feared that if I let it grow too much, it would be impossible to close.
“I miss you, rei thissie,” I rasped, pressing my forehead to hers. I heard her breath hitch, felt her body still under my touch. But I met her eyes, so close that all I saw was their dark, rich color. “If I knew how to make this right between us, I would.”
She held my gaze. For a moment, I saw her empathy, saw it gleam in her eyes, saw her want that as much as I did.
“Seerin,” she whispered, shaking her head.
“I know.” My shoulders sagged and I blew out a breath, releasing her. “Come, thissie. The healer is waiting
.”
She hesitated for a brief moment but then followed me as I led her up the short incline to my voliki. The kerisa was waiting at the entrance and she nodded at the both of us before following us inside.
The healer’s visit was short and something that would happen every week until Nelle delivered the child. The kerisa inspected the growth of her belly first. Even since last week, I saw that the baby had grown and I watched from a short distance away, my chest filling with pride and relief. Since Nelle was a vekkiri, it made the timing of her delivery unpredictable, which was why the healer wanted to monitor her every week.
After the healer was done with her inspection, she rose to make Nelle her tonic and said, “It seems you are almost halfway through the gestation already. Dakkari females carry for five months, and if the conception happened a little over two months ago, as you believe,” Nelle’s cheeks pinkened slightly, “then it is likely you will also carry for that long.”
Nelle had told the healer last week, when we’d arrived back in the horde, that she believed the conception happened the night I’d returned from Dothik. A night I remembered well and was very likely when we conceived the child, considering how insatiable we’d both been.
Longing went through me. It was just one more thing I missed with my kalles, our matings.
The healer gave Nelle her tonic to drink. Judging by the pungent smell and the look on Nelle’s face, it wasn’t pleasant, but she drank it down without a single complaint as the healer packed up her herbs and supplies.
“I will return next week,” the kerisa informed Nelle before inclining her head at me. “Vorakkar.”
Then she took her leave, slipping out the entrance of the voliki, leaving us alone. Nelle adjusted her tunic so that it covered her growing stomach once more and I watched her from my place against my cabinet, where I stood with my arms crossed.
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, sitting on the edge of the bed where we had spent a great deal of time together during the height of the cold season.
“We should talk about how we are going to do this,” she said softly. “Don’t you think?”
“Do what?” I asked.
She clasped her hands in her lap and said, “Care for the child. I do not know what to expect. Avuli told me Dakkari fathers are very involved with the rearing, but since we are not…”
“Neffar?”
Her lips pressed together and then she said, “Since we are not mated, since we keep two different volikis, we should discuss—”
“By the time the child comes,” I said, “I fully expect that you will be my Morakkari, rei thissie.”
Stunned silence spread between us.
“You…expect?” she repeated slowly, disbelief tinging her tone.
“Lysi.”
I missed many things about my thissie. I missed her curious questions, the way her eyes lit up as she talked about crafting arrows, how she always waited for me so we could eat our evening meal together even if I returned late, how her breath hitched ever so slightly whenever we kissed.
I missed our whispered conversations into the early hours of morning and seeing her eyes spark with heated desire when I slipped between her thighs.
I missed feeling the press of her thissie feather necklace against my skin during the night, that soft feeling in my chest whenever I spied her around the encampment, seeing her secretive smile whenever she met my gaze from afar.
I even missed her temper. While she was not as quick to it as I was, it burned bright when lit.
She’d been so impassive towards me, the complete opposite of the starling who’d shyly admitted she liked when I kissed her and who’d informed me with a beguiling arrogance that she wouldn’t miss with her bow again before I’d given her my name.
But right then, she was not impassive. She was not indifferent. She was angry and I felt relief whistle through me, clear and pure.
“You are unbelievable,” she hissed, her voice soft, standing from the edge of the bed. “You have no right to expect anything from me!”
“Besides my child, you mean,” I rasped, stoking those flames hotter because it felt so damn right.
Her lips parted, her eyes flashing. Then she clenched her jaw and grabbed her pelt from off the bed. She fastened it around her shoulders as she strode past me.
Catching her arm, I forced her to stop. “Nik, you will not retreat from this.”
“I’m not running away,” she countered, trying to pull her arm from my grip.
“Then what are you doing?” I growled. “All you have done is run from me!”
“With good reason,” she said with a growl all her own, frustration joining her anger when I would not let her go.
“Tell me,” I ordered, pulling her closer. “Tell me how much you hate me, rei thissie.” She stilled, her breaths coming heavy, shock flashing in her eyes. “Tell me how much you wish our paths had never crossed. Tell me how much I hurt you. Tell me how much of a monster I am, but at least tell me something, Nelle!”
“Stop,” she breathed, her gaze locking with mine, surprise mingled with something else in her eyes.
“Tell me!”
“Seerin, I…” she trailed off.
I let her go and took a step away.
“I do not know what to do, Nelle,” I said softly. “I am sorry. I am so sorry for what I did. This past month has been the worst I can ever remember.”
Her lips parted. She heard the truth of it in my words. And she knew that I’d had many terrible months, especially in Dothik.
I was tired. Mentally exhausted. I hadn’t been eating enough. This month had taken its toll on my body, on my mind. It had taken its toll on Nelle. And it was all my fault.
“Losing you, pushing you away,” I rasped, “was the biggest mistake of my life. And even though you are here now, you are still so very far away. I cannot reach you anymore, thissie.”
“Seerin,” she whispered, her brows furrowing.
“What do you want?” I rasped. “Do you want me to…do you want me to leave you be? Do you truly want this to be over between us?”
It was unfathomable, letting her go for a second time, willingly. But this wasn’t just about me.
“I…I don’t know,” she said softly.
Her words both filled me with hope and filled me with despair, a strange mixture that made me want to bellow to the domed ceiling of my voliki.
“I would give up the horde for you,” I rasped. Her breath hitched, a stricken, stunned look on her face. “If that is what it takes, I will, Nelle. You would not be my Morakkari, but you would be my mate, my kassikari.”
“Kassikari,” she whispered, her eyes widening slightly.
“We could travel to one of the outposts and live there. We could raise our child there,” I said, my heart heavy in my chest. I loved being a Vorakkar. I loved the horde life…but not if it meant giving up Nelle.
“Seerin, stop,” she said, her voice rising, her eyes wet. “You’re being foolish. I would never ask that of you!”
“Then what would you ask of me?”
Her mouth opened but no sound came out. My shoulders sagged.
It occurred to me, just then, that it was possible we couldn’t be fixed. And that realization hurt more than her silence.
Nelle looked down to the floor of the voliki. I sensed our conversation was over. I knew she would leave soon.
Before she did, however, I said softly, “You asked me once if I did not have the horde, what would I want for myself?”
Her fingers began to tap on her thigh.
“Well, I finally have an answer and it is you. I want you, thissie,” I told her. My lips twisted as dread settled in my belly. “Only, I’m just now wondering if I’ll ever truly have you again as mine.”
Chapter Forty-Two
There were two things I knew for certain.
The first was that I still loved Seerin. I’d never stopped, even when I’d wanted to hate him. I’d tried to numb my feelin
gs for him, to push them deep down until they were completely buried, but they’d always had a way of floating back up to the surface when my guard was down.
The second was that it disturbed me he would give up the horde to save our relationship and our future together. It disturbed me greatly because I knew he spoke the truth. Seerin loved his horde. He loved being Vorakkar. It was what he was meant to do. He’d told me long ago that he had great plans for the horde and was determined to see them through.
Which was why it made everything in me rebel at the thought of him leaving…for me.
It was the afternoon, two days after Seerin had offered to give up the horde. I’d seen him briefly yesterday in the training grounds as I left the mitri’s workshop. Now that the thaw was coming and the temperatures weren’t nearly as frigid, training had resumed for the warriors. Our eyes had connected briefly. He hadn’t been fighting, but rather watching along the far fence of the enclosure, but I had captured his attention entirely.
Seeing him among his warriors reminded me of the first time I’d seen him in my village. He’d drawn eyes. He drew attention because he was simply a commanding presence. And it wasn’t his size, his broadness, his strength—though those certainly added to it—it was the way he held himself apart from his horde. He was a leader—one that had been born and made. He couldn’t be on the same level as the members of Rath Tuviri. In order to best serve them, he had to detach.
It made me realize that he’d done the same to me. He’d detached from me because he thought it would best serve his horde…because he was a leader. He had to be. He didn’t have the luxury of being selfish because he had to think of families, of warriors, of elders, of children.
He was a Vorakkar. It was marked into his skin, though I thought it was etched into his very bones, deep and permanent and lasting.
I didn’t envy him his power, his responsibility. But he didn’t need my envy. He only sought my support.
That afternoon, I roamed the encampment after working with the mitri. My hands throbbed from hammering Dakkari steel over the anvil for most of the morning. He was teaching me the proper techniques for working with blades and I was cooling off from the heat of the voliki before I made my way to Avuli’s.
