Page 24 of The Horde King of Shadow

“Only when they were wrong,” Sarkin corrected, his voice just as low, and I had the strangest sense I was stumbling onto some very rooted issues between the two Karag. His aunt scoffed as Sarkin stepped forward until they were only an arm’s lengthaway. “Elysom gave me twomysarcommands to repay what my father did. I have now fulfilled them both. The last of the Dakkari patrols are over. I have secured a wife of my own choosing. Elysom will no longer give me orders. My freedom is mine, as is Sarroth’s. Don’t forget that. Or youwillanswer to Muron’s wrath.”

My lips parted, hearing a heated passion in Sarkin’s voice that I hadn’t expected. No longer cold or detached.

“You disgrace the Karag to choose a wife such as her. And you know it,” his aunt returned.Never runwas what Sarkin told me. Well, she wasn’t backing down either. “The councilwilldecide on this once we return to Elysom.”

“It’s already done,” Sarkin rasped. His aunt froze, a glare forming. “Zaridan has accepted her. I heard thesy’asha. An Elthika’s song is more powerful than any binding ceremony in this mortal life. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

Thesy’asha?

An Elthika’s song?

Immediately, I knew what he was referring to. That moment on the wildlands, outside the East Gate. It seemed as if Zaridan’s scales had whispered, a song only we could hear. It had been mesmerizing, lulling. I still remember the heat of Sarkin at my back, the brush of his thumb across my neck, the rhythm and softness of it.

My breath shuddered out. What was he saying? That we were alreadymarried? Because of that singular, unexpected moment?

“You still have to go to the Arsadia to bind it,” she said quietly.

“Which is why we leave at dawn,” Sarkin answered, and I could hear the smugness in his tone. “Or will you try to have her killed before then?”

I stiffened.

“Don’t tempt me,” his aunt replied, her tone clipped, her eyes practically burning holes into Sarkin’s head. The hostility between them was even greater than my stepmother’s hatred ofme.

“If you try, you will have three kings to answer to for her death. One old, one new…and her husband,” Sarkin replied. I swallowed, my breath shuddering out of me. One old…my father? One new? He must’ve meant Dannik. “She is of royal blood. Dakkari, yes, but ancient lines all the same.”

The aunt’s glare cut to me. “What is your name, Dakkari?”

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth. A long moment of silence passed. Even the group quieted behind her, waiting for me to speak. It was discomforting, I realized, to give my name so freely to strangers. But this was the Karag way, I remembered.

Names should not be hidden, Dakkari. Names should be feared.Those had been Sarkin’s words. A part of me liked the sentiment.

“Klara of Rath Serok,” I answered, “and Rath Drokka.”

Murmuring went through the rest of the group. Were they the council she had spoken about? Advisors to her? Or to Sarkin?

“TheDothikkar’s daughter,” the aunt said, her tone cold and measured. Her eyes—yellow as gold—swept me up and down, calculating. They fastened on my face, and I felt them touch on my scar. Her lips parted and she moved forward. When she reached for my face, I heard the whistle of a blade. Sarkin’s reflexes were quick, a dagger at the ready, glinting in his grip. She paid it no mind, as if this were a common occurrence.

For all I knew, it was.

“Watch yourself, Kethra,” Sarkin warned, tone low.

“Will you spill my blood here for the council to see?” she answered. “Just as your father did to your mother?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, but then her fingers pressed into my scar. Her lips parted, her brows rose.

“I see,” she breathed, eyes narrowing. Then Kethra laughed, the sound booming as she took a step back. The sweep of her tail brushed my ankles when her back turned. “Such an unremarkable girl to bear such a mark.”

A pit lodged itself into my belly. Was I to be shunned here too? Cast aside? Looked down upon? I was a long way from Dakkar, and still…my problems would be the same?

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Sarkin,” Kethra snipped.

She stalked away, her strides short and clipped. A few members of the group followed until only a couple lingered.

A dark-skinned male stepped toward us, his blue eyes regarding me before fastening on Sarkin. He inclined his head briefly, his eyes closing. When he opened them, he touched silver markings below both of his eyes, the right, then the left. He touched the middle of his forehead and then gestured to Sarkin.

“Karath,” the male said.

“Endrassa, Gevanth,” Sarkin said, pressing his fingers to his own forehead. A Karag sign of greeting, I assumed.

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