Page 57 of The Horde King of Shadow

“Can I try?” I asked, nodding at the tree trunk. I used to be a good shot, but these targets were small, the weight and balance of these strange daggers uncertain. And I hadn’t practiced on targets in years. It used to be a fun pastime when we’d lived on the wildlands. Though, truthfully, I had practiced endlessly because the young Dakkari boys in my horde had taunted me that I couldn’teverpossibly hit a target.

“For a price,” Ryena chimed.

My steps faltered uncertainly. “And that is?”

She pushed a half-full goblet into my hands. “Drink up,Sorrina. Those are the rules to enter the competition. No one plays without at least one goblet of wine in them.”

My brow furrowed, taking the goblet from her hands, the wine nearly sloshing over the sides. “Sorinna? What does that mean?”

Ryena’s head inclined briefly. “It’s the Karag word forqueen.”

I blinked, a shot of nerves going through my belly, and I felt no less than a dozen pairs of eyes on me. Even behind me, from those not in the immediate circle of players, including Feranos, who peered at me carefully. Only he suspected what had happened in Lishara’s temple, and I was proud when I didn’t feel my cheeks heat under his cautious scrutiny.

Perhaps he suspected the worst.

I didn’t drink the full goblet. After even just a sip, Ryena seemed satisfied enough, and I traded her for the first dagger. It was slim but heavy. The hilt was etched with decorative markings, the eyes of an Elthika peering back at me, two red gemstones glittering.

“I’ll challenge theSorrina,” came Sammenth’s voice. She grinned, stepping up next to me. “And I warn you, the Sarrothian are a competitive people.”

“So are the Dakkari,” I returned. “Perhaps that makes you doubly so.”

Sammenth’s smile widened.

“We’ll see how you fare. I imagine there’s little time for dagger throwing in theDothikkar’s gilded palace,” came a voice. A female, one of the novice riders, I knew. Her sly smirk was coupled with her narrowed eyes, watching, waiting for a reaction.

I didn’t let her subtle jab get to me. I expected to be poked at for a while. I was an outsider, even if I was their queen. But did they believe I’d lived a privileged life, wealthy and wanting for nothing? I’d been happy with my mother on the wildlands, true. But even after I’d been forced to live in the palace, it had never felt like my home.

Instead of responding, I took another sip of wine, the dagger loose in my hand at my side. I twirled the hilt, getting used to the balance in my palm, and I set the goblet down on a nearby stool.

“Hit the middle of the marks?” I asked Sammenth, eyeing the target. In the archives, on particularly dull days when my research was frustrating and I needed a distraction, we’d done something similar with the tips of ink quills, weighted with heavy coins. Half the challenge was figuring out the weights and balances of each quill, which had all been unique.

She nodded. “Stand there. Behind the tether.”

There was a long braided rope of black, worn leather lying perfectly straight at my feet.

I caught the stray, quiet voice from the novice riders. “Bets for if she makes it?”

No one said anything, and I felt my lip press. Again I ignored it. If this had been a Dakkari horde, they would’ve been silencedfor daring to disrespect theMorakkariof their horde king. Perhaps they’d even be sent back to Dothik or givenpyrokishit–shoveling duty for the rest of the season.

But I’m not in Dakkar,I thought, straightening my spine.And my husband doesn’t care what his riders say about me.

A difficult truth, but one I would need to swallow.

I brought the dagger up, pinching the silver, cool blade between my fingers.

“I’ll bet against,” came the voice.

“We all would,” came another grumble.

“Shut it,” came Sammenth’s hiss.

I let the dagger loose, swift and sure. I’d never felt more certain about anything, actually, and so when it hit the tree with a dull thud, the pointed blade stuckdirectlyin the middle of the first target, I wasn’t surprised.

But everyone else was silent. Even behind me, it seemed like the noise of the celebration died down. Because they’d been watching too? Was Sarkin?

I was happy because it reminded me of living in the horde. Sneaking onto the training grounds with my two friends at midnight, when the horde had been quiet, the whistling of daggers in my ears as my friends had sparred with wood poles as swords.

A simpler time,I thought, a stab of longing and nostalgia going through me. If I’d returned to thevoliki, our domed tent that I’d shared with my mother, with cuts from the daggers, she’d only shake her head, a smile playing over her lips. She’d known the importance of freedom. She’d longed for it her whole life. It was why she’d chosen to live on the wildlands. She’d always told me that Dothik had made her feel caged.

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