Page 60 of The Horde King of Shadow

Sarkin stopped in the middle of the pathway. We were alone, everyone either in their beds or still at the feast. “Is that truly what you want?”

I thought about Lishara’s temple. The magic I’d felt there. The raw passion, the ache, the frenzy of it. Of Sarkin’s lips at my throat, his cock deep inside me, my nails digging into him as I’d neededmore, more, more.

“Yes,” I said, a little breathless, feeling a flush come on, and I hoped that Sarkin just thought it was from the wine. “That’s what I want.”

Sarkin said nothing.

And we walked back to his—our—stone dwelling at the top of the village in silence.

It didn’t feel like a truce at all.

Yet…right at the doorway, as I turned to look back over the celebration one last time, I heard the quiet words: “I can be your friend, Klara.”

I looked up at him, hope springing in my chest. A stray breeze pushed a wavy lock across his forehead as his dark eyes burned into mine.

“At least, I can try,” he amended, brow furrowed.

I figured that was as good as I’d get tonight.

“Friends,” I agreed.

Chapter 22

KLARA

“This is a jest, surely,” I said quietly under my breath, seeing the small group assembled just inside what Sarkin called the landing field.

It was the field to the west of the village, the same one we’d left yesterday for our ceremony at Lishara’s temple. Only now there was only a single Elthika in the field, sleek with scales of shimmering blue.

A familiar male was standing in front of a group ofyoung adults. No older than eighteen or nineteen. Hell, one of them appeared to be a teenager.

“You will learn with them,” Sarkin informed me, his arm brushing my shoulder when we stopped on the outskirts of the fence. “Lysi?”

He was using my own language to try to charm me?

I wasn’t in the mood. Thanks to the wine from last night’s celebration and my poor decision to continue drinking it with each new opponent, my head was throbbing, my jaw tight.

The rest of my body wasn’t faring so well either. While the majority of the rider burn between my thighs was healing—I could at least walk without feeling like the skin was chafing andraw—I was acutely aware of new aches, courtesy of Sarkin and the blessing that his dragon goddess had bestowed upon us.

In my bath this morning, I’d uncovered bruises from his fingertips, tender red marks where he’d nibbled and sucked, and a sharp ache between my thighs whenever I moved a certain way.

And now…it was my first official day of Elthika riding training.

“I’ll be training with children?” I asked softly, eyeing the group, eleven in total.

“Yes, and you have some catching up to do,” Sarkin informed me unhelpfully, making my head pound even further. “They’ve already been in training for five weeks.”

I shot him a look. I had the distinct impression that Sarkin enjoyed poking at me when I was so obviously grumpy.

“I trust that you’ll handle it,” he told me. “I have to fly north today.”

“Why?” I asked. I had noticed he was in his riding leathers, but since I knew very little about his daily life—or that of the Karag in general—I hadn’t thought much of it.

“Patrol” was all Sarkin said. When I waited, he added, “There was an Elthikan stronghold along the northern coast of the Arsadia. We received word from anotherKaraththat they appear to have left.”

“You want to investigate why,” I guessed.

He inclined his head.

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