Page 89 of The Horde King of Shadow

Unlike a Dakkari horde’svoliki, Karag dwellings had small kitchens and hearths. Though there was a central cooking hub in the village and most of our meals had been brought to us, hot and delicious, I’d learned most households cooked their own food throughout the day, which accounted for the little gardens I’d seen next to many of the dwellings here. Families traded each other for meat and spices or worked for meals from the cooking hub, performing jobs and tasks around the encampment. The Sarrothian who lived here were free to hunt in the forests in the Arsadia. They hauled in their own water from the river.

It was a more independent lifestyle than the one I’d grown up in, but there was still a sense of community and belonging, which was achingly familiar. It was comforting.

I sat at the table, watching a ray of sunlight beam off the pink flower as I munched on my snack. The quiet was nice. To hear my own thoughts. To let my guard down. To not feel anyone’s eyes on me.

The tension between Sarkin and myself this last week had already been tiring enough. Though, truthfully, I barely saw him,and if I did, they were only brief moments in the horde, usually around dusk, after his scouting party had returned. He’d been gone once on an overnight trip. To Elysom, I’d later learned, the Karag’s capital city, situated on a small island west of here. Another trip had been made to theKarath’s territory in the North. He’d finally located the missing horde of Elthika, but they’d taken up dangerously close to the Hartans’ borders, so he’d gone on a scouting mission there.

Over the week, some of my anger had deflated. I realized that Sarkin couldn’t possibly have been so calculated to take me as his wife for the purpose of using meifthe heartstones were found in Dakkar. It was laughable…and if it were true, it meant Sarkin had visions of his own, which I highly doubted. I’d been hurt, yes. I still was. But I was determined to move on. I couldn’t change that I was Dakkari. I couldn’t change who my father was. Of course it would come up. Of course it would be used by the Karag as leverage. Sarkin would have little control over that, especially if it meant greatly benefitting his own people.

I just wished he could understand why it had stung. I just wanted him to acknowledge that. I just wanted him to acknowledge how hypocritical it was for him to question my loyalty when he would use me for the Karag’s gain.

Yet…he hadn’t. We’d been distant. He still slept beside me at night, though I’d only seen him once. He came to bed after I fell asleep and was gone before I woke. The only evidence that he’d been there at all was an obvious indentation and lingering warmth from his body in the mornings. Once, I’d woken in the middle of the night to find him sleeping, his arms wrapped around me. I’d lain awake, savoring the heat and scent of him, pressing my hand to his chest, before I’d gone back to sleep.

That had been the extent of our interactions.

There was a knock at the door. For a moment, a pulsing of hope went through, wondering if it was Sarkin, but thenI realized he wouldn’t have knocked on the door of his own dwelling.

I finished up the slime fruit and answered it, finding Ryena on the other side. The horde was bustling today, I’d noticed on my walk back home. I couldn’t help but wonder why, but in the distance, I saw a decorative vine being hung near the flying field.

“Hi,” I greeted, smiling. “Please come in.”

When I stepped away from the door and let Ryena slide past, I saw her gaze go to the bed. Then she turned to me and said, “I’m just dropping this off for you. Sammenth wanted you to have some, but she’s out on patrol right now with theKarath’s unit, much to her delight and much to my worry.”

She’d grumbled that last bit, making my lips quirk, though I wondered if it was really all that dangerous, if I should perhaps be worryingmorewhen Sarkin left.

“Oh,” I said, tucking a strand of hair that escaped my braid behind my ear. My gaze dropped to the basket she was caring, a delightful aroma rising. “What are they?”

“The meat pies she told you about. Our father’s own recipe.”

“Right! The one she said might’ve been a Dakkari recipe.”

“Precisely,” Ryena said, folding back the cloth that kept them warm. “She pulled them from the hearth before she left. They’re still warm. You want one now?”

“Yes, I’m starving,” I told her.

She wrinkled her nose, seeing the spiky pit on the table. “Slime fruit not cutting it?”

“Not with Kyavor’s training, no.”

“I remember Sammenth cleaning out my ice box daily when she was in training. These will help weigh you down,” she said. We both took a seat at the table. I’d left the door open, finding the breeze pleasant as it slid over the back of my neck. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” I told her, taking a bite from the pie. It was really more like a ball, a flaky crust with a savory meat filling. The flavor burst over my tongue, and I nearly gasped.

“What?” she asked, smiling as she watched me.

“It tastes like home,” I said quietly, feeling the sudden sting of tears rush in my eyes, and I was immediately embarrassed. Sarkin wouldn’t like me calling Dakkarhome, not to one of his horde members, and my hand dropped into my lap, gazing down at the small pie that tasted exactly like braisedwrissan, marinated intrilikkipepper, that smoky spiciness blooming over my tongue. Comforting and warming.

Ryena’s hand came to my forearm, and when I looked up at her, she was frowning. “What’s wrong? If you need to talk, Klara, I’m here.”

“No, it’s…nothing.”

Her sad smile was knowing. “I know what’s it like. Maybe not like you do, but I watched my father get treated differently. Sammenth and I have always felt like outsiders, not so much here, but if we ever stepped beyond our village in Sarroth. It can feel overwhelming. I just want you to know you’re not alone. You don’t have to try to hide it.”

I blew out a shaking sigh. Iwastouched by her concern and the meaning behind her words. But I didn’t know how to tell her that Sarkin and I had been fighting about the relations between her people and mine, not without betraying my husband’s trust or revealing my vision.

“Kakkira vor,” I said, giving her a small smile as I cleared my throat and blinked my tears away.Thank you,it meant in Dakkari. “I’m just a little homesick,” I admitted. That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t quite the truth either.

She nodded her head. “I was like that when I first came to the Arsadia. I do miss Sarroth. You always miss home because that’s where you have so many memories.”

---