Page 108 of The Horde King of Shadow

Kyavor inclined his head, and I walked away, intent to find my wife.

It was two nights after Klara had taken the fall.

Finally theilla’roshcould come to an end, with only two deaths recorded. I considered that a success, though I knew the nightmares would come, as they always did. The two blood borns who had tried to claim Lygath…I had managed to save only one. The other had been too far away, just like Haden. I’d only narrowly been able to drop the surviving acolyte down to the pass floor before I’d needed to track Klara overhead.

The horde would pack up our encampment at dawn, and we’d leave for Rysar. The remaining wild Elthika had already begun their migration from the cliffs. Tomorrow this place would be as if theilla’roshhad never happened. Only…the territories of Grym and Kyloth had lost two of their acolytes, both blood borns, and their families would always remember this choosing. The first had taken a death fall before we’d even arrived to Tharken. Another Vyrin had apparently been scouting the area, and the acolyte had tried his hand.

My horde was celebrating the end of theilla’rosh. The fires were lit, the feasting had begun. It had been successful for Sarroth. But I felt this stone pit in my belly that I couldn’t shake, knowing how much Klara was hurting right now.

There was a break in the celebration noise, a sharp knife cutting through it. When I glanced up the pathway, I saw Klara, walking with Sammenth. Klara had her head held high, but my fists clenched at my sides when I heard the quiet that had descended. The whisperings that started up in the festivities’ wake.

I stepped forward, slicing a sharp look over to a group of younger riders, making them swallow their tongues. I approached my wife. The Sarrothian didn’t publicly showaffection to partners or lovers, but I pressed my lips to the side of her temple when I reached her.

Slowly the celebration carried on, though I felt dozens and dozens of eyes on us. Sammenth squeezed Klara’s forearm, murmuring, “I’ll find you later.” And then with a careful look of greeting at me, the young rider fell away, into the fray.

Pulling back, I looked into Klara’s eyes, seeing the way they flickered around the celebration before lowering.

“I thought I could do this,” she whispered softly, “but I don’t think I can. Not yet.”

I nodded, taking her hand and striding away from the clearing. From other neighboring mountains, I heard the celebration of other hordes. I heard the telltale drums of the Grym territory and echoing laughter of the Kylothian fill the Tharken cliffs. The horde from Elarin had already departed.

Klara shivered, and I pulled her closer. I brought her to our domed dwelling, untying the laces at the entrance and holding open the flap for her to step through. I tied them tight, and the thick material helped blocked out all sound. Our tent was placed toward the back of the encampment, closest to the wide expanse on the mountain where the Elthika could land. It was separate, and I knew that Klara would feel safer here.

“What do you need?” I asked her, taking her into my arms.

“To not feel like this anymore,” she answered immediately, her shoulders slumping even though her hands pressed into my abdomen. I couldn’t stand the defeat I heard in her voice. “To not feel like everyone has turned on me. To not feel like an outsider again. To not feel like a failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” I growled.

“I am,” she answered simply. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know what happened. I know what everyone saw.”

I blew out a sharp breath. At least she wasspeakingwith me tonight. She’d been withdrawn for the last two nights. Stoic anddetached. She still showed her face, bravely, among the horde, though I knew she heard their biting remarks, their judgments. It was what I disliked most about my people. The Sarrothian frost, it was called. If they didn’t know you or if they didn’t respect you, they made you feel it like the prick of a dagger. Failure was a brand on your skin. And it took what felt like a lifetime to shake away shame in their eyes.

Klara was feeling it keenly. Just as I had once.

“Lygath was never going to accept a rider, Klara.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Her head snapped up, but the burn of the anger in her eyes felt better than her quiet resignation. At least there waslifein her now.

My nostrils flared. I wanted to stoke that fire even more, to shake her from this.

“I told you not to choose him. So why did you disobey me?”

“Disobey?” she breathed. “More riders were going todie, Sarkin!”

“And you would’ve been one of them!” I growled.

She reared back, stepping from my arms as she began to pace our dwelling. It was decorated sparsely and had a bed of furs at my request. Her booted feet treaded over the soft carpets that created a barrier against the hard mountain stone.

“Ifeltit,” she cried out. “The bonding pull. I knew—know—that Lygath is meant to be mine. How do you explain that?”

I shook my head, feeling the tension build in my chest as I watched her pace. “Klara, there is always choice—I’ve told you. You might have felt the bond with Lygath; I won’t discredit that…but sometimes an Elthika doesn’twanta rider, no matter the pull. Lygath has always been one of them.”

“Then why was he there?” she asked. “Why was he at Tharken if he didn’t want a rider?”

“Zaridan,” I answered, thinking it obvious enough. “They sense each other. He knew she was there. There is a bond inblood that cannot be denied, and it is the only bond he cares about.”

Klara looked away from me. “I felt it sostrongly, Sarkin. I thought…I thought that I could prevent the others from trying to claim him, fromdyingif only I claimed him first. I felt what they didn’t. They want him because he’s a Vyrin. I chose him because of what I felt. Because I’ve dreamed of him for years. I thought… I don’t know what I thought anymore. All I can see is those two riders falling into the darkness and the sound that Lygath made when they latched into his side. It was…awful, that sound.”

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