Page 91 of The Horde King of Shadow

We landed in a meadow after nightfall. The tall grass brushed at my ankles, and when I looked down, I thought the ground was glowing.

“What is this?” I whispered, crouching. I ran my fingers through the feathery light tendrils of midnight-blue grass and watched it light up beneath where my touch trailed.

“Starlight grass,” Sarkin answered, watching as I swept my entire palm over a cluster. “It only grows here, in the Arsadia. We’ve tried to transplant it, but it always dies.”

I looked up at Sarkin. “Because heartstone magic is still present here? Because of the temple?”

“We think so. Some believe there’s hiddenthalaratrees in the Arsadia, that they still seep their power and magic into the earth, giving this place life, giving Elthika their vitality. But if there are, there are not many left.”

I stood, watching the grass light up around the hem of my dress. Impractical to wear on Elthika-back, yes, but I had warm protective tights underneath, padding on the inner thighs, and the dress was loose enough to pull up toward my hips so it wouldn’t be a hindrance. A soft shawl draped around myshoulders, and I held it to me tighter. I didn’t know who had made my clothes, but they had been another discovery, another gift this last week. I’d pulled open the closet, intent to borrow another of Sarkin’s tunic for the training session that day, and instead found the shelves brimming with soft colors and light materials. Dresses and shifts, ranging from formal to sleepwear, in addition to a healthy range of riding trews, thick-soled boots, and durable tunics sewn with Elthika scales.

I’d picked a dress I’d admired since I’d first seen it. A flowy shift dress, a deep inky blue in color, embroidered with silver thread. Simple but…romantic.

Sarkin was in his riding armor, as I liked to call it. Tailored riding trews made out of a thick but flexible soft leather, a black shirt that molded to his shoulders, and a vest of scales with silver catches. With his dark eyes and handsome features, he was every bit what I’d imagined a dragon-rider king might look like.

The basket of meat pies was hanging off my arm—cold now, but they would still be delicious—and Sarkin pulled down his travel bag from Zaridan.

Conversation between us had been nonexistent on the way here, ever since we’d left the horde just after the sun had disappeared into the horizon. The tension between us was palpable, and I felt a little silly in my dress, wondering if I’d misread the situation entirely. But why would Sarkin bring me here? Far away from the village, where there was a celebration in our absence?

The meadow was vast, giving way to rolling hills. A stone’s-throw distance away, there was a glittering lake, small and still. The grass rustled around my legs as I followed Sarkin to the top of one hill, one that had a great view and vantage over the entire meadow.

“This is…” I started.Romantic,I wanted to say. Instead, I smiled, watching as Sarkin unrolled the blanket from the travelbag and laid it down on the hill, flattening the grass, though its light shone through the material. “This place is beautiful,” I finally settled on.

Therewasa chill in the air, but my shawl kept the worst of it at bay. I didn’t want to dirty the blanket with my boots, so I toed them off, feeling the grass tickle my feet.

Sarkin watched me as I stepped onto the blanket and lowered myself down, highly aware of his gaze and the fact that it had been over a week since he’d touched me, kissed me.

Since he’d knelt at my feet, my back against the cliffside, my body pulsing, and…

I blew out a shaky, nervous breath, and he came to sit beside me, our arms brushing, little sparks that nearly made me jump.

The silence stretched between us as we both looked over the meadow. The night sky above was shining, the glimmer of the moon picturesque. Everything about the Arsadia was beautiful.

I felt the earth tremble as Zaridan sat close by, her head raised to the sky as if in anticipation.

“What are we waiting for, exactly?” I asked. I thought we both heard the double edge to my question, reflected in the gleam in Sarkin’s eyes.

“Every year at this time, there is a meteor event. The migration starfall. The wild Elthika will pass overhead. Right here,” Sarkin informed me, gesturing toward the expanse above us. “They’ll arrive at the Tharken cliffs by the morning.”

A jolt of nerves went through my belly.

“It means theilla’roshmay happen sooner than we think,” Sarkin admitted.

“Really?”

“We follow the Elthika. They tell us when it’s time. They only stay at the Tharken cliffs for a couple weeks. Then they move on,” he said. “You’ll be ready. Don’t worry. Kyavor has beenkeeping me updated on your progress. He’s quite impressed with you.”

A flush of pleasure momentarily dulled out my nerves. “I suppose jumping off the back of Zaridan over a dozen times really puts thing into perspective.”

Sarkin went quiet, and I cursed myself for bringing up that day. That night.

“When you…” I began, glancing over my shoulder at the Elthika perched to our side. “When you had your own choosing, when you saw Zaridan for the first time, how did you know?”

Sarkin brought his knees up, and he looped his arms around them as I watched the cords in his arm tighten and release.

“Among the Dakkari, there are recorded moments in your history where your ownVorakkar, your own horde kings, have claimed they’ve been led by your goddess, Kakkari. That a feeling of knowing came over them. I believe I heard it referred to as ‘Kakkari’s guiding light’ once,” he said.

“Yes, that’s true,” I said, knowing the exact accounts he was speaking of. “Arokan of Rath Kitala, one of the greatest horde kings of our history, specifically said he felt it when he saw his human queen, Luna, for the first time.”

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