Page 33 of The Horde King of Shadow

Pretty name. I wondered what it meant.

“I’m Klara,” I said. “You’ve been kind to me. I won’t forget it.”

She looked down at my untouched tray of food. “The Sarrothian, I know, are a difficult people to connect with. They don’t like outsiders. And they certainly don’t like outsiders who will become their queen.”

“Then why, Sammenth, have you been so kind to me?” I asked, trying to understand.

“Because I know what it’s like to be an outsider,” she confessed. “I am not a true Sarrothian. Half of my ancestors were Dakkari.”

A jolt went through me. I heard myself exhale a sharp, small breath.

A million questions bubbled in my mind, but I kept my lips firmly pressed together. I would scare her away if I bombarded her with questions.

Instead, I asked a single one. “How?”

“Sammenth!” someone called. A group of riders were looking at her expectantly, one waving a loaf of bread in the air. They were all young, I noticed. Their faces unlined by the seriousness and intensity of Sarkin’s riders.Novice riders?I wondered.

There was eagerness on Sammenth’s face when she turned back to me. “We’ll talk again, and I’ll tell you. I promise. Eat now. And rest. We have another long travel day tomorrow.”

And before I could protest, she stood and walked back toward the group, stretched out on their sides or sitting on tree logs they’d pulled from the forest around us. Sammenth grinned, gladly accepting a bowl of broth thrust into her chest. She pushed off a male from the log, who toppled over with a sharp laugh, and took his seat.

She’d learned to be accepted. A Dakkari…just like me.

I could scarcely believe it. But how that was possible, I didn’t know. Though I had my suspicions…guided by the stories my mother had told me all my life. Fantasy stories, I’d always thought. But ever since her death…I’d begun to see them as truth, especially as my own gift had manifested quicker and stronger as I’d aged.

“Finished eating?” came the gruff question.

Sarkin appeared, peering down at me and my full tray of food. He crouched, snagging my bread, bringing it up to his lips and tearing off a bite.

“Haveyou?” I returned, raising a brow when he dropped the bread back onto the tray. I studied him, looking for unkempt clothing or any laces undone.

His chin lowered to regard me. “What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Your tone implies otherwise.”

I didn’t want to talk about this, especially since I didn’t even know what I was feeling. “How did the Dakkari come to be here? In Karak?”

Sarkin exhaled sharply. “They came on ships. Long ago. There were hordes along the southern shores for nearly a century. I figured you would have known.”

My jaw dropped. “Of course not. There’s no record of it in our archives.”

“Ah, butyouknew,aralye, didn’t you?”

My nostrils flared. His hand reached out to grip my chin, studying me, his eyes flickering to my scar.

If not for this scar, he never would’ve looked at me twice, I realized. It was because of this scar that I was here.

And perhaps I should’ve been grateful for it because he’d been ready to use theethrallon all of Dothik.

“Finish eating. We’re sleeping up on the cliffs tonight.”

I gaped. “Why?”

After last night? Was he insane?

“Zaridan won’t sleep on the earth, and I’m taking first watch. Since you sleep with me, you go too. No exceptions.”

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