Chapter Eighteen

The Horde

 

My eyelids floated open when I heard the cham flaps slap back and I took in the bright sunlight on the walls of the cham.

It had to be late morning.

I arched my back slightly in a light stretch and tipped my chin down on the pillows to see which one of my girls had come in.

I blinked when I saw a pair of muscular legs in hides coming my way.

My eyes flew up and Lahn was looking down at me with a seriously hot, seriously satisfied look on his face.

He aimed his ass to the bed as I rolled to my back and that was when it hit me that my nightgown was bunched at my waist, exposing me top and bottom. He hadn’t pulled the silk over us last night, warding off the chill with his body.

My hand flew to my nightgown but didn’t make it even close. It was captured in a firm grip, pushed back and pressed to the bed. My eyes shot to him as I tried with my other hand which was captured too. Then both were pulled up over my head and held in one of his while his eyes followed his other hand which drifted palm flat from my chest, between my breasts, down my midriff, over the silk then he cupped me between my legs.

Shit.

His eyes came back to mine and I skewered him with a glare.

“You love the feel of me,” he whispered and my glare slipped as I blinked.

“Wh… what?” I whispered back.

His finger slid inside and that felt so flipping great, coupled with that look on his face, my lips parted and a swirl of pleasure uncurled in my belly.

He bent slightly more toward me and repeated, “My tigress loves the feel of me.”

His finger moved.

Shit.

“Lahn,” I breathed as it hit me. I’d said that to him last night and, this morning, he’d seen to finding out what it meant. “You’ve been talking to Seerim.”

He smiled and damn, it was sexy.

Yep, he’d been talking to Seerim.

First on my morning’s agenda, find Diandra and kill her.

His finger moved, sliding out and in. “Sah me lapay the part of me you love gahn tee jahkal,”* he murmured.

Okay, no, first up, Lahn was going to play with me, give me an orgasm and then I was going to find Diandra and kill her, the crazy Korwahkian matchmaker.

And I was right about the morning’s agenda, with one hand holding my wrists over my head, his other hand worked between my legs until my back arched, my hips ground down on his fingers and I cried out when he made me come really, freaking hard.

It was still washing through me when he let my wrists go and tugged me gently into his lap, wrapped his arms around me, buried his face in my neck and cradled me.

“My Circe’s claws are not so sharp,” he whispered there.

My body tensed.

Seriously, he was annoying.

I lifted my hands to his chest and shoved hard enough that he moved back an inch as I snapped, “Go away, Lahn, I need a bath.”

His head came up and his silently laughing eyes caught mine. “Yes, kah Dahksahna, me too.”

Oh shit.

He went on. “Kah bahsah bathes zah Lahn, kay bathe kah bahsah.”

He said, “My wife bathes her Lahn, I bathe my wife”.

Oh shit!

“Lahn –” I started, he grinned then turned his head and barked, “Teetru!”

The cham flaps instantly opened and I pressed my chest to his, my arms going around him to hide my nudity (not that I needed to, my girls had seen me plenty of times but it was habit) as my head twisted around to see all five of my girls traipsing in with buckets of steaming water, cloths and rough, creamy disks of soap. They set them down in a new area I hadn’t noticed last night that was stone and grass and no rugs.

The mess we made with Lahn’s bath was not to be repeated, I saw. We now had a shower area.

Crap.

Then they shuffled out without looking at us.

“Lahn –” I started but I was up because he was up and carrying me. “Lahn!”

“Quiet,” he ordered.

“Lahn!” I snapped, he dropped my feet, they hit stone and my nightgown immediately slid down to my ankles. Before I could decide to go for the nightgown or just make a run for it, his hides were at his. He stepped out of them, bent to grab the handle of a bucket, I prepared for flight but he caught me at the waist, yanked me into him, my body slammed against his and not a second later he poured a whole bucketful of warm water on our heads.

Then the bucket clattered to the ground as Lahn’s arm tightened around me and the fingers of his other hand slid up the back of my neck and into my wet hair as I spluttered.

Once I’d blinked the water away I saw his face close and felt his hot, slick body sliding against mine.

It went without saying that felt nice.

“Kah bahsah bathes zah Lahn, I bathe my Lahnahsahna,” he said softly.

Then he bent us both to the side as he reached for the soap.

Oh well, whatever. I needed a bath and he undoubtedly did too.

“Whatever,” I muttered, pulled the soap out of his hand and pressed it against the gorgeous brown skin on his massive, fantastic chest and it didn’t take long (approximately a second) before I really got into what I was doing.

About a second after that, both his arms locked around me and he burst out laughing.

He knew I was into what I was doing.

Yep, he was definitely annoying.

When he’d stopped laughing, I tilted my head back and gave him a scrunchy face in an effort to show him exactly how annoying I thought he was.

His dark eyes took in my scrunchy face, his lips gave me a smile and his arms gave me a squeeze.

Again, whatever.

I focused on the task at hand. Then he focused on his task.

Needless to say, this added nuance to bath time with Lahn made it even more fun.

Yep, I was definitely screwed.

* * * * *

“Oh Circe, my lovely, I’m so sorry. Golly, I can’t imagine my Feetak ever taking a hand to me,” Narinda breathed.

Her Feetak.

Yep, ole Feetak was in there and I meant that in more ways than one.

That didn’t take long.

“I’m okay,” I promised her, reached out, squeezed her hand; she gave me her small, weird smile and squeezed mine back.

Then I looked out into the Daxshee.

Narinda and I were lounging on hides and cushions outside Lahn and my cham while I kept my eye on Ghost, who was wandering around, being cute, attacking things and generally annoying passersby to which I’d call out, “Kay tingay,” which meant “I’m sorry,” and I’d get smiles as they moved away.

Our cham had been set up a bit away from the others, close to the creek on a slight rise, so we could see most of the Daxshee spread out below (this gave evidence that The Eunuch did not set up the Daxshee the same every time).

It was late afternoon, Narinda had come around earlier, we had had lunch and now we were sipping fruit juice, chatting and watching the activity of the Daxshee. There was a long, wide gauze fall set up which provided shade that we could laze under. This was welcome but unnecessary. Nearly my whole body was a golden honey color from riding for days in the sun. But it was nice to have a break from it.

I’d just told Narinda the story of the bruise that she informed me looked a lot better.

But it wasn’t gone.

And I couldn’t allow myself to forget it, no matter how sweet and sexy my husband was being.

He might be the tiger and a warrior who thrived on challenge but I was a tigress raised by the kind, loving king of a small, loving kingdom and I knew what I deserved and it was not what Lahn handed me a week ago. So he had a fight on his hands, one I was determined to win.

“Oh look! There’s Diandra! Poyah, Diandra!” Narinda exclaimed, waving frantically and I followed her gaze.

Then mine narrowed.

Diandra grinned shamelessly at my narrow-eyed look, came right up and gave Narinda a “poyah” as she dropped into a lounge on the hides, grabbed a big cushion and shoved it under her side and then helped herself to fruit juice.

Then her dancing eyes came to me. “How are you, my queen?”

Now she was just trying to be irritating, calling me her queen.

“I’m not talking to you,” I informed her and she burst out laughing.

“What’s this?” Narinda asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Diandra answered as I glared at her, “unless you’re talking about our Dax’s groan of gratification that half the Daxshee heard ringing from his cham last night. Seerim and I aren’t that close but it still woke us both up.”

Narinda’s wide eyes flew to me and a wobbly smile hit her lips.

I kept up the glare but ratcheted it up as high as I could take it.

Diandra ignored me and just like Diandra, kept right on yapping.

“Angry words were heard from our queen but I have inside information that she told our king she loved the feel of him so I suspect things eventually went well for her last night too.”

Narinda let out a giggle you could tell she tried to suppress… and failed.

I turned my face away.

Narinda’s voice came to me. “Have you forgiven him, Circe?”

“No,” I bit off.

“Her head hasn’t but other parts of her have,” Diandra chimed in and my eyes sliced to her.

“Are you trying to irritate me?” I snapped.

“Yes,” she replied, “you’re very endearing when you’re angry.” She looked at Narinda. “Our king calls it his tigress baring her claws. My husband tells me he speaks openly and often about it, so far as bragging about it. He, too, clearly likes it… even more than me.”

“Will you shut up?” I clipped and she threw her head back and laughed.

Then she focused on me, still chuckling. “The Daxshee is abuzz, as usual and, as usual of late, it’s all about their Dax and golden Dahksahna. The Dax emerges bathed from his cham and doesn’t visit the Xacto. His laughter is heard ringing from his cham, amongst other things. He delays the ride until he’s content with her health. He rides at the front of his warriors with his wife tucked close. He gives her a horse –”

I cut her off with, “You have a horse.”

Her chuckles died, her eyes got serious and I knew Korwahk wisdom was coming even before she replied quietly, “I do, my dear. My Seerim gave me a horse two years after I was claimed.” She looked at Narinda. “You see, the warriors, they war which means they fall. The Horde is everything, they do form friendships, in battle, they will act to protect their brothers-in-arms but they hold themselves distant. Too many opportunities to lose people who are in your heart. It beats down the spirit, weakens it. But a warrior’s horse, now that’s a different story,” she explained. “Warrior and horse ride into battle connected. The horse of a warrior is part of him. They actually consider their steeds an extension of their own limbs. I’ve heard Seerim tell me battle stories of warriors receiving wounds they would not get if they didn’t move to protect their horse from steel.”

“Golly,” Narinda whispered.

“Indeed,” Diandra stated. “This is why, my dears, a newly claimed wife is set to straddling her husband’s steed. It is akin to straddling him but also is a ceremonial offering from warrior to horse on the night a warrior lets in the new most important being in his life, as, while straddling his horse, his new bride will leak his seed which, I think you both have come to understand, is vital to any warrior. Therefore, they feel it is an extremely worthy offering to a creature they feel keeps them safe, makes them strong and is an extension of themselves.”

Yeah, any man, in this world or my own, thinks that kind of offering is “extremely worthy”.

Jeez.

I scrunched my nose at Narinda and she scrunched hers back.

Diandra ignored our looks and kept speaking. “So, obviously, horses as a whole are revered greatly by The Horde. It would be a guess but a good one that a vast amount of warriors pray to the Horse God. And, therefore, owning a mount is considered a privilege. One must deserve their own mount. Young warriors do not get their own mount until they are chosen to perform their first kill which means they’ll have trained for more than a decade before they acquire a steed. That said, it is no surprise that a husband does not bestow such an honor on his wife until he feels she deserves it. For instance, after she has successfully given him their first son or she has spent much time being a good warrior’s wife, providing for his needs. Therefore, the Dax, bestowing a mount of such beauty to his new bride is cause for much gossip. Gossip,” her eyes came to me, “which was mostly speculation until, of course, his cry was heard last night and his mirth heard this morning.” Her face grew wicked as it looked back to Narinda. “It would seem, sweet Narinda, our Dax’s new wife is providing quite well for his needs.”

I stared at her, too shocked at the knowledge that Lahn had given me a horse far earlier than most wives earned one to be irritated at her teasing.

“He is a contradiction,” Narinda muttered and my eyes slid to her to see her staring unseeing into the Daxshee. “From what Circe told me about his mark, I do not wish to like him and every time I see him, he frightens me. Yet much of what you say shows there is a great deal of soft under that hard.”

“I’m not certain, sweet Narinda, it is the soft our queen likes…” she paused and finished with emphasis, “but the hard.”

“Diandra!” I snapped but she chuckled as another giggle escaped Narinda.

Just then, the object of our conversation strode around a cham. He wasn’t close but he wasn’t far and still, his raw energy invaded all around.

I drew in breath as he stopped to talk to two warriors who waylaid him. Then I allowed my eyes to move over my husband.

Okay, well, I wouldn’t admit it out loud but I did have to admit to myself that I definitely liked the hard.

“Oh, what’s this?” Diandra muttered, I tore my eyes from Lahn and looked to my right to see a young boy, slight, perhaps eleven, twelve years old and definitely not of the warrior sort. This was probably why he wasn’t off training somewhere but instead at my cham carrying what looked a great deal like a guitar and sounded like one when my eyes hit him, he swallowed, looked up to a woman who was standing beside him and then he started strumming and then, falteringly, singing.

The woman moved forward and laid a flower carefully on the hides well away from me or my girls then she scuttled back, her eyes shooting in Lahn’s direction and back to me as her boy sang.

He looked nervous and kept screwing up the chords and he wasn’t the greatest singer in the world, it must be said, but he didn’t do half bad and it was definitely sweet. But his mother gazed down on him like the sun’s rays sprouted out his mouth with his voice and I could tell she thought he could do no wrong and that was probably why she took him to her queen to bestow what she thought was a precious gift.

I smiled encouragingly at him as he lost his way, he found it and kept going and I nodded my head continuously to keep him going.

Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, I looked that way and tensed. I knew Diandra and Narinda saw it too because I felt them tense.

Dortak was striding through the chams, a dirty-looking, rough-woven bandage around his middle, the carves on his chest and face had not been stitched but were glistening with goo and were clearly not going to heal very well. But they were healing.

His bride, clean but bruised up her arms, around her neck and with a cut lip, stumbled behind him.

She was wearing her claiming necklace, he was wearing a claiming chain around his waist, it was attached to her necklace but he had it in his fist and was yanking on it as he dragged her behind him.

Jeez, seriously, this guy was the king of dicks.

He stopped at a warrior that was about five feet from Lahn and he started talking to him and as he did, he yanked her to her knees beside him and his hand fisted in her hair to hold her there. Not that he had to, she wasn’t going anywhere. Not without his permission.

My eyes moved over her and my heart hurt as they did, clenching more and more the more I took in.

Whatever girl she once was now was gone. Everything was gone. Her expression was blank, her eyes distant. She was so deep in her head that she probably didn’t even know where she was.

I looked swiftly at Lahn to see he and the two warriors he was talking to were eyeing the couple with tight faces.

But they did nor said a word. Lahn simply turned his back on Dortak and resumed his conversation.

Without thinking, I turned to the boy singing, pushed to my knees and reached out toward his instrument, wiggling my fingers at it and smiling at him. His strumming faltered as did his singing. He looked up at his mother, she jutted her chin to me, he stopped making music and handed his guitar-like thing to me.

One of my two lost loves was guitar crazy, he had four of them, two acoustic, two electric and he taught me how to play. Then he got shitty when I took to it and quickly got better than him (one of the reasons, I kid you not, why I was convinced he broke up with me but when I threw it in his face, he swore it wasn’t but I knew it was). When he left me, I bought my own guitar and always, every week, twice, three times, sometimes every day, I found time to play.

And I couldn’t give anything to Dortak’s wife, me being queen or not, except what that boy gave to me.

So I sat back on my calves as I tested the strings and the frets, found my way and then started to sing Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s “Over the Rainbow/Wonderful World” but with a guitar and not a ukulele.

You couldn’t say my singing voice was a lot better than the boy’s but it didn’t have to be. Even if you couldn’t understand the words, the song couldn’t be anything but beautiful. I kept my eyes glued to her as she stared at the ground and I hoped somewhere in her head the words to two sweet, hopeful songs meshed together in one beautiful one penetrated and colored that dark world she was living in with all the vibrant shades of a rainbow.

Then, slowly, her head lifted, her eyes found mine and I did what I thought any good queen would do and that was all she could do to provide what she could for her people – even if it wasn’t much and it was just one of those people.

And I knew right when the song got in there. Her eyes drifted slowly closed, her face grew soft and I hoped to all that was holy that in that moment she was over the rainbow in a wonderful world.

When I stopped playing, her eyes opened and I smiled at her. Dortak yanked her chain which wrenched her neck and the soft look disappeared instantly from her face as a flash of pain replaced it.

The moment he did this, I heard a deep, male voice call out tersely and that voice was really pissed off.

And it was not Lahn’s voice.

I looked to my left and saw it was Bohtan. I also saw I had drawn a crowd. And I also saw Lahn’s dark eyes riveted to me in a way he’d never looked at me before but one that made my belly dip and my heart feel light.

“You disrespect your queen,” Diandra whispered and I started then looked at her to see her eyes on the action in front of us and I realized she was translating.

I followed her gaze and saw that Bohtan was striding swiftly toward Dortak and words were being exchanged.

Diandra interpreted.

“I care nothing of women singing.” That was Dortak.

“You care nothing of women.” That was Bohtan with a jerk of his head to Dortak’s wife.

“Caution, Bohtan,” some other warrior said.

“Yes, caution, Bohtan. My wife is not your concern,” Dortak warned.

“You’re right. Your wife wouldn’t be my concern. But I’m not talking about your wife. I’m talking about your dog. You’ve made your wife your pet. Do you like to thrust your cock into animals, Dortak?” Bohtan returned and I pressed my lips together because those were fighting words in my world so I was guessing amongst The Horde they were serious fighting words.

Bohtan went on. “Do not answer that, I know you do. This could not be missed considering you rarely miss an opportunity to show us what a warrior you are by thrusting your cock into in any hole your animal provides.”

“My bride is none of your concern!” Dortak shouted, yanking on her chain again.

“But she isn’t your bride!” Bohtan shot back, having made it to Dortak, he leaned in dangerously. “She’s nothing but an animal you’ve brought to heel. You sully The Horde with your actions, thrusting into her face at the games, challenging our Dax while armed, disrespecting our queen in front of our king.”

Diandra gasped at Dortak’s reply and I knew not only by her gasp but the fact the air went still that something very, very bad had happened.

A glance showed she’d gone pale and I whispered urgently, “What?”

She didn’t tear her eyes off what was happening when she whispered back. “Dortak said, ‘I care not for our queen or a king whose new wife rides so soon after the claiming. The yellow one has had his cock two weeks and she’s leading him around by it. Our king is the one who has come to heel.’” Her eyes slid to Lahn and she finished, “That is a challenge.”

Oh shit.

My eyes moved to Lahn too. He was surveying the scene with his arms crossed on his chest and an expression on his face that stated clearly he found it mildly interesting. But only mildly.

“You challenge the Dax?” Diandra interpreted what a warrior standing with Lahn called to Dortak.

“What Dax?” Dortak spit the words then he spit into the ground in Lahn’s direction. “I see no Dax.”

Finally, Lahn spoke and he did this mildly too.

“I advise you stop taking your fists and your cock to your bride, Dortak, so you can heal. I want you fit before I bring you to your knees and take your head.”

“I claim the Dax,” Dortak shot back, “the first thing I do is thrust my cock into the yellow one, spilling my seed until it leaks out of every orifice in her body.”

I sucked in breath but Lahn grinned and I stared at his reaction in shock.

Then Diandra gasped again but quickly translated Lahn’s words, “You take my head, the Gods would weep because the world is falling from the sky. You get near my tigress, she’ll sink her claws in you and you’ll be looking at your innards spilling out before your last breath escapes your body.” Diandra looked at me. “This is a grave insult to any warrior, my dear, to infer a woman could best him.”

It would be a grave insult to anyone. Still, it was a pretty awesome comeback.

Diandra started translating again as Dortak spat, “The yellow one owns your cock!”

To this, Lahn returned, “You speak truth and I’m glad of it, she knows what to do with it and she likes what she knows how to do. While I was driving it inside her last night, my queen gasped that she loved my cock right before I planted my seed in her womb, seed that might make a warrior, seed that’s already more warrior than you.”

“Holy crap,” I whispered. That was a good comeback too, perhaps a little on the personal side, but a good one.

“I don’t even know what that means and I’ll say you can say that again,” Narinda whispered.

Diandra translated Dortak shouting, “I take your head tomorrow!”

To which Lahn replied, “No, I want you fit before we toss your headless carcass on the pyre. You’ve got two weeks, Dortak. Then our steel clashes.”

Dortak glared at Lahn a second before he swung his angry gaze to Bohtan who was still close.

Diandra interpreted. “Before I claim the Dax, you,” and he jerked a finger at Bohtan, “watch yourself and keep your mind off my bride.”

“You,” Bohtan returned, “treat her like a bride and I will. You keep treating her like a dog I’ll be forced to put her down like one to put her out of her misery.”

I pulled in breath at Bohtan’s words (words I hoped he didn’t mean) as Dortak’s face got so red I thought his head would explode then Lahn entered the conversation.

“Bohtan, enough, your point is made.”

The king spoke so Bohtan took a step back but his eyes didn’t unlock from Dortak.

Then Diandra translated Bohtan saying, “After the Dax cuts your tail from your lifeless head and it falls from his saddle, I will be the first to seize it and present it to your bride as my wedding gift.”

Then he turned and walked away, his eyes coming to me briefly before he bowed his head for a second and then he stormed out of sight.

“What’s a tail?” Narinda asked softly while I tried to catch my breath but instead caught my husband’s eyes.

“It is their hair.” I heard Diandra answer. “After a challenge, the victor ties the head of the vanquished to his saddle and rides through the Daxshee. When he’s done celebrating, however long that takes, he releases the head from his saddle by slicing it off at their tail. After that, the head is at the mercy of whoever grabs it, they can do whatever they wish with it and the warrior’s body is burned headless on his pyre. It is important to anyone to have their pyre so their ashes can drift to the heavens, body joining spirit. The Korwahk, Maroo, any person from the Southlands has this same belief and any body not fired is thought to roam this realm as an unseen, unheard, powerless phantom. Not burning the head is a final indignity for a warrior’s defeat for they will wander eternity headless, a reminder of their humiliation.”

I was listening but I was also, weirdly, communicating with my husband. As Diandra talked, his eyes stayed on mine then he jerked his chin up, slightly, once. I knew he meant to ask if I was all right so I nodded. Once I did, he turned away.

And that was when I remembered I had the boy’s instrument, my body jerked and then I turned to him and smiled, offering it up to him and saying, “Shahsha.” Boy and mother were both clearly shaken by the events that took place and he swiftly took it back as I asked Diandra to tell him to come see me again, with his instrument, so we could play and sing together. The mother’s face beamed but the boy looked like he wanted to do this about as much as he wanted to be forced to run naked through the Daxshee with his hair on fire. So I decided when he came, I would play and he could take off and have fun with his friends.

They wandered away as Narinda asked, “Do these… erm, confrontations amongst warriors happen often?”

“No, sweet Narinda, it happens, they are men, so it is bound to. But it isn’t frequent. Though Dortak is not a favorite of anyone and I have seen warriors get impatient with him or he says things that force them to have words. Bohtan is a good man, a good father, Seerim says he is a good warrior. He and Nahka didn’t leave their cham for nearly two weeks after her claiming; he was that taken with her. The Horde rode after the selection, leaving them behind. He is a good husband and cares for his wife.” Diandra smiled gently at Narinda, a smile that spoke volumes about the warrior who had claimed her. “There are some men, no matter what blood flows in their veins or what teachings were drilled in their heads, who are just good men.”

Narinda smiled back and there was nothing small or weird about it.

Gaal came forward and set a plate of candied fruits on our hides. I smiled at her and she smiled back then scuttled away.

I watched her go thinking that Teetru was a little distant because she was older, she seemed to take her duties very seriously and I’d learned yesterday that part of her duties were keeping an eye on me. But Jacanda, Beetus and Packa were younger, friendlier and more talkative. As the days passed, even Packa was coming out of her timidity and becoming more outgoing. Our conversation was halting but, even with Teetru, I felt like we were all forming a bond.

But Gaal remained distant and watchful and after what Diandra said to me yesterday, I hated to do it, but I wondered about it.

Shit, I was going to have to keep an eye on my girls, especially Gaal.

Then I heard it, a rumble like distant thunder. It was familiar and yet seemed strange. It hit me what it was the minute the horizon filled with horses. It was the sounds of the hooves of a vast number of horses beating the earth. I’d heard it for the last six days but this was different and it was different because the horses coming our way didn’t number in the hundreds.

I stared as more and more came visible.

Holy fuck! There had to be thousands of them!

I tensed, my first thought was to run to Lahn when Diandra said calmly, “Oh look, The Horde arrives.”

My head snapped to her and I asked, “The Horde?”

She was reaching for some candied fruit; she popped a piece in her mouth and looked at me while she chewed. She swallowed then she said, “The Horde.”

“But,” I blinked, “I thought we were with The Horde.”

“We are my dear, some of them. Warriors who attended the Hunt, others whose sons were up for selection, trainers who’ll need to take charge of new warriors, others who enjoy or their wife enjoys the celebrations. But the rest are out patrolling or on campaign.”

I looked to the horses moving our way and the wagons, vast numbers of them, could now be seen coming up the rear.

“The rest?” I whispered.

“Circe, my beautiful friend, a few hundred warriors cannot keep an entire nation safe. The Horde numbers at a little over seventy-five thousand, the last I heard. It could be more.”

My mouth dropped open and I stared at her.

My husband commanded an army of seventy-five thousand men?

Oh my God!

“That isn’t even all of them,” Diandra tipped her head to the approaching procession. “Not even half. Just the warriors who ride with the Dax. While he was presiding over ceremonies, they were taking care of business. They always join the Dax when he’s done with official matters. Further, there will be other large squads off on patrol throughout Korwahk or others executing campaigns the Dax has ordered. Why do you think he attends his warriors all day and into the night? Being a Dax, there’s a lot to do.”

I looked to Lahn who now had five warriors huddled with him and he had his hands planted on his hips, his eyes on the horizon, watching his warriors draw near. The men were talking to him and I saw that he was watching and listening when he nodded once to something one of them was saying. Then he crossed his arms on his chest, moved his gaze from the vista and turned his attention to the man who was speaking to him.

I had no idea. None. In fact, a savage, primitive horde of just a few hundred seemed enough for a savage, primitive horde, in fact, too many. I had absolutely no idea he commanded such a legion.

“Circe?” Narinda called, I shook my head, tore my gaze from my husband and aimed it at my friend. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said distractedly then looked to the horses getting ever closer. “I’m fine.”

“I see it is now penetrating,” Diandra said softly and my dazed eyes swung to her to see hers, not dazed but understanding on me. “I kept telling you, my dear, you are a queen. I see you now understand you are a queen. A queen of a vast number of men, their wives, their children and the nation of people who they protect…” she paused, “all of whom serve you.”

“Yes, Diandra,” I whispered, “it’s penetrating.”

She leaned into me. “You have saved a child’s life, and your people witnessed it; you have sung a beautiful song to a woman whose spirit has been tramped to death inside of her, giving her mind a brief moment of harmony and your people witnessed it. You make your husband’s laughter, something never heard before by those other than his brothers, as well as the sounds of his pleasure ring out from your cham and your people hear it. I tell you there are whispers and these whispers are soaring, Circe, with a speed that would astonish you. You don’t know it but your actions have already built strong bonds of loyalty in the hearts of people you’ve never even met and you’ve been our Dahksahna for two weeks. Your king builds loyalty through providing riches, safety and cunning; you, my beautiful Circe, are building yours, and therefore his, through matters of the heart. This makes you strong and it makes you weak. There will be those who will seek to target those weaknesses. Use caution, be watchful and stay safe.”

I swallowed and nodded, my eyes flitting to Narinda who was looking on, her own eyes wide and her face slightly pale.

Then I turned to the advancing procession and watched part of my husband’s ginormous army arrive.

* * * * *

“Linas, rah,” he whispered before his lips moved over both of my eyes.

I was in trouble.

My king had just made love to me… yes, made love to me, slow, sweet, gentle, tender. It was, no other words to describe it, beautiful. And I liked it, a lot. So much, I didn’t think I’d ever forget it, not a touch, not a taste, not a stroke, not a second, not any of it.

And now he was lying on top of me, his weight on a forearm in the bed beside me, his other hand curled around my neck, thumb gently stroking my jaw and he was whispering to me.

Man, he was good.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, but really, my eyes are more a very light brown,” I muttered to try to break the mood.

His chin tipped down, his eyes locked on mine and at the look in his, my belly melted.

Okay, message received, Lahn didn’t want the mood broken.

“Eyes, rah,” he whispered then his hand slid up my cheek, fingers sifting through my hair at the side of my head and down before he bunched a length of it against my neck. “Lipa, rah,” he muttered, his thumb back to stroking my jaw.

“In my world, we don’t call it gold, we call it blonde,” I whispered, his eyes caught mine, that warm, sweet, contented look was still in the depths of his and my heart skipped.

Then his head dipped, I braced and his lips skimmed the skin on my cheek. “Leeka, rah,” he rumbled in my ear.

I wasn’t going to argue with that. That was true, with all the sun I was getting, my skin was gold.

His head came back up as his thumb swept over my lips, his fingers moving so his hand could cup my jaw, “Lapay nahna lisa rahna, kah Lahnahsahna?”

I knew what he was asking. Is your mouth golden, my tigress?

My heart skipped another beat.

Shit.

“Lahn,” I whispered then closed my lips as his head dipped again and he brushed his against mine.

Okay, he might not have kissed a woman before, but he did that really freaking well.

“Mm, kah rahna fauna?” he urged quietly, his mouth moving against my lips.

Oh yeah, he was good.

I just stared in his eyes which were all I could see and did my best to keep my mouth shut.

What I wanted to do was kiss him.

And I wanted it bad.

He stared back.

“Lapay tee?” he whispered, Is it?

I shook my head and watched up close as his eyes smiled at the same time I felt his lips do the same.

Then, his eyes never leaving mine, his tongue traced my lips.

I shivered and my limbs, all four of which were wrapped around him, tensed.

Oh shit, yeah, he wasn’t good. He was good.

“Yes it is, Circe,” he whispered against my lips, his tongue slid along them again and then he murmured, “rahna honey.”

Okay, I’d had some nice compliments in my life. One, I had to admit, was Lahn telling me I had rare beauty the like he’d never seen. Another was, of course, him telling me the spirit that shone from my eyes was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

But his telling me my mouth was golden honey just notched itself right smack in the middle of that list.

“Sahnahsoo kay neenkah,” he whispered.

I knew that too. Let me inside.

My belly dipped, my heart surged and the area between my legs tingled.

Shit!

I shook my head again and got another touch of his tongue.

Oh God.

“Sahnahsoo nahna Dax neenkah, kah Dahksahna,” he murmured.

Let your King inside, my Queen.

Oh God!

I had to stop this, like, now.

One of my hands slid up his back, under his arm, up his chest, his neck and I cupped the side of his jaw, sliding my thumb between our lips.

“No, Lahn, kah lisa lapay kahna,”** I whispered.

His eyes smiled again, a knowing smile, therefore a scary smile.

“No, baby, your mouth is mine,” he whispered back then his thumb swept across my cheek, my lips, taking my thumb with it and when he had access, he bent his head and touched his mouth to mine again.

I held my breath but he only lifted his head and whispered, “Okay, my Circe, anah na vatay. Anka, ta junay tooka.”***

I didn’t catch any of that but I felt extreme relief mixed with almost devastating disappointment when he slid off my side but tucked me close under him, tangled his legs with mine and muttered, “Trahyoo.”

I wanted to trahyoo, I needed to trahyoo.

But all I could do was feel the specter of his lips against mine and the phantom of his tongue.

So it took me awhile.

Then, tangled with my warrior king, I trahyooed.

 

*Translation: “This is not the part of me you love but it must do.”

**Translation: “No, Lahn my mouth is mine.”

***Translation: “Okay, my Circe, tonight you win. Tomorrow, we play again.”