Page 79 of The Horde King of Shadow

On Kakkari, I wanted the river to swallow me up.

“And I have to go first?” I asked, lowering my voice so only Kyavor would hear.

His brow raised. Briefly, his eyes flickered past me, no doubt spotting my husband among the crowd. His gaze returned to mine, and there was no mercy there.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “You are theSorrinato your people, are you not? Lead by example.”

He had it out for me. Or maybe Sarkin had told him to go extra hard on me because I was severely at a disadvantage of my younger-but-more-experienced peers. With the exception of two younger riders—both blood borns who had been in instruction since they’d been twelve—nearly the entirety of my class would be entering theilla’rosh. Which meant competition would be steep.

I waded through the river, my boots soaking through, navigating to the metal plank, bracing myself when I turned myback to the river current. The plank was thick and sturdy but barely wider than my booted foot.

Briefly, I turned my head to regard Sarkin. He was standing along the riverbank, his arms crossed over his chest, Feranos at his side. I saw Levanth too, though she was speaking with Ryena.

This exercise would be child’s play to a rider like her,a little voice in my head reminded me.

Sarkin reclaimed my gaze. I swore I could still feel the strength of his grip on my hips from last night. My breathing went even more shallow, thinking of his warm skin and the sweep of his tongue.

I’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, but I’d woken alone this morning. This was the first time I was seeing him since our lovemaking, and I found myself looking to him for comfort. For assurance?

He inclined his head at me, those dark eyes intense and watchful, and I took a deep breath.

“Everyone falls their first time,” Kyavor’s voice came, loudly. “That should make you feel better, Acolyte.”

“It doesn’t,” I grumbled under my breath, inhaling deeply as I placed my slippery foot on the metal plank.

As I steadied myself, I looked out over the view from the top of the river. I could see endless forests, valleys, and majestic mountains. The sun was casting everything golden, highlighting every inch of beauty of the Arsadia. I thought of the quiet but dark archives, the whisper of paper and the murmuring of hushed voices. I wondered where I would rather be at this moment.

And with the memory of Sarkin’s kiss and the knowledge that he thought I was beautiful…I thought that I wouldn’t trade this view for anything.

Even if fear made me tremble.

I balanced myself, holding my arms out parallel, as I stepped fully out on the beam. Belatedly, I realized that most riders would have done a running jump mount, but it was too late for that.

Navigating the beam was easier than expected, and I was relieved when I dropped onto the harness, assuming the rider position—back straight but bent low over the Elthika’s body, thighs tight and braced, and with a steady grip on both tethers. Riders could either use the tether or just keep their hands on the bar that ran across the harness. Sarkin had always used the tethers for Zaridan, however, and so I didn’t think twice about reaching for them. Everything was wet from the spray of the waterfalls. Perhaps on purpose, to prepare for any situation on Elthika-back.

It was my mistake to look down. I went a little dizzy when I saw the drop and the rushing violence of the waterfall.

“Ready?” Kyavor called out.

I heard my own gulp over the noise, my hands tightening on the leather straps.

I can do this,I thought.I have to.

Kyavor’s system of levers and pulls was a surprisingly intricate mechanism. The mount jolted into motion, the force and strength of which surprised me. My first thought was itdidactually feel like riding Zaridan, but then panic set in when my grip began to slip.

My eyes flicked down the drop of the waterfall, my heart beginning to pound so fast and hard that it felt like a punch in my chest.

Stop,I wanted to cry out. Tears pricked the inner corners of my eyes, and it took everything in me not to plead to Kyavor. It would embarrass Sarkin. It would make me look weak in front of his entire horde…because word would spread like wildfire through Rysar.

My thighs slid, and I let out a little cry before I could stop myself, my hands scrambling to hold on to the tethers tighter and tighter. They were slippery in my grip. I released them, instead using the bar in one last attempt to hold on.

Kyavor was merciless with his machine. It was what I imagined trying to ride on the back of a wildwrissanfelt like. He wastryingto make me fall.

When my thighs slid off the harness when Kyavor tilted the body of the Elthika model, there was no stopping the fall. There was a part of me thatwantedto fall, if only to end this. This fear, this panic. When my hands let go, I didn’t know if it was willing or not.

I heard the collective gasp from the horde when I tumbled off the side. My gut dropped, an unpleasant fluttering beginning in my throat as my scream escaped me. I was freefalling, my thoughts wild, hands flailing out to try to grip something, to try to catch my fall. It reminded me of Sarroth, of tumbling off the side of the cliff. If Sarkin hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t caught me in time, I would be dead.

My eyes squeezed shut, willing the world to stop.

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