Page 43 of Daghel

“Did he?” I glance over at Daghel in surprise as I sit back down at Linahna’s side only for the male merely smirk over at me as he gathers more straw together to bind.

“Of course, Vorn pitched a fit,” Linahna added and chuckled with delight. “My brother always was a big baby when something is inconvenient for him, but Daghel was not going to budge and jeopardize your safety, so he had no choice but to relent. So today… we are celebrating,” she proclaims as she leans forward with the bottle and splashes a healthy amount into my cup.

“I suppose we are,” I chuckle and bring the cup up to my nose.

The scent of apples, alcohol and fragrant spices is perfectly sweet, and I sip it slowly, savoring the flavor sliding over my tongue. Lowering the cup, I turn to watch Daghel work while Linahna fills me in on palace gossip, noting that the way the forms of what appear to be a warrior and a maiden are coming together. Or rather, Durethikal and his bride. I sit and watching, silently sipping on my cider as the god-king and his fair maiden come together in vaguely recognizable forms. At least they look like the rough forms of a male and a skirted female.

“Did you leave with Drisk early in the morning, then, to get all of this?” I ask, and my mate nods with a look of satisfaction on his face.

“I wished to finish before you awakened so as to surprise you, but Vorn’s meltdown delayed me from returning to the rookery as quickly as I would have liked,” he mutters as he tosses aside the twine and reaches for the ribbon. “I am afraid that these are not as nice as the ones that you admired in the village, but I brought plenty for you to adorn them,” he says, nodding to a basket a short distance away from where he is sitting.

I look at it with delight, utterly touched by his efforts. “I think they look wonderful,” I tell him.

Rising from the bench, I walk over to him with a smile. He sits back to look up at me as I place a foot beside his leg. Heat fills his eyes, and he reaches up to cup my legs in his big hands while I step over him and set my foot on his other side. A soft growl rumbles in his chest and his hands lovingly cup my ass as lower myself so that I am sitting on him and curl my legs around his hips. Looking up at him, I brush a finger over his chin and sigh with pleasure when his head dips and his lips brush mine in the sweetest caress as his hands slide to my back and he holds me tightly to him.

My mouth immediately opens for him, and I don’t bother holding back my moan as his tongue slips between my lips, thrusting into my mouth in a way that sends a tingle rushing through me. Our mouths move over each, our tongues entangling as we kiss. The only thing that could make it better was if Drisk was reclined next to us. I’ve felt his tongue within my cunt, but I wonder what it would feel like to suck at its textured tip so that he can spirit a kind of kiss that is special just for him. I make a mental note to try it later as I lose myself in the love of my mate.

Tomorrow is back to the real world, but today is for dreams and celebration, and I just can’t wait to get more of that with both of my males to sustain us over the hard days of flying to come as we return to our regular duties. For now, I willsavor this simple romance that I never believed possible for any courtesan to have.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” Linahna chuckles and I hear the scrape of her boots against the stone floor as she stands. “A blessed mating to you all,” she says and I smile against Daghel’s lips.

It is indeed. Never have I felt more blessed.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

DAGHEL

Istand to the right of Vorn’s throne, my expression as carefully blank and composed as ever belying the dark, icy fury stirring within my gut. I am in an unforgiving mood this morning, especially since I was summoned in the earliest hours of the morning. Although Anya has been living with us for many days since our mating, there is a newness to it that is still rocking through me. I had fully expected to go on our usual sweep today as we have the past several days, but to be so rudely summoned and commanded to come without my mate makes hostility and wariness prickle through me.

I stare at the gathered orcs icily. There is not a female among us. Not even the assembled gathol orcs are present with their mates. It is unnerving. There is nothing good to come of this.

Vorn stares down at us coldly from the throne. “As some of you may or may not know, I have been corresponding with other powerful clan lords that have risen to the height of power within their own clans and wrestled power from the queens. It is mostly outlier clans, as those of the inner mountains with their deep fortresses are still deferentially loyal to the old ways. It isbecause of this alliance I have learned what our enemies do not wish us to know.”

He stares at the males, his gaze shifting among them, holding their gaze with his beady stare. “They are launching strategic attacks against clans where the claim of rule is uncertain, and an entire contingent consisting of gathols and warriors are heading our way to join with the factions in hiding within our own peaks,” he shouts as he gestures to a covered table in front of him. “We must destroy this faction encampment before the gathol and supporting warriors can arrive and muster their strength! We must strike the death blow from which they will never recover, so that they turn away from the Fang Peaks and never threaten our power again!”

At his nod, Ajek whips the fabric from the table, revealing a carefully carved layout of the mountains. I recognize this map only distantly as I recall the queen pouring it over a time or two while Linahna and I played as pups in her chambers. There are markers now set upon them with carefully placed pieces, and I realize quickly that the red pieces are the attacking forces that he mentioned.

His gaze drifted over the males, his expression cruel and pitiless. “This cannot be allowed,” he thunders, his fist striking the arm of the throne and the sound echoes throughout the throne room. “I have summoned you today, all powerful warriors and leaders of your own ranks, and call on you to prepare for battle. They dare to attack our peaks on the eve of the solstice, on the longest night of the year. Well then, we will meet them and bathe the night red with their blood. We will descend upon them, and we will tear them to pieces and feast upon their bones!”

A shout goes up through the room, a roaring sound of bloodlust from the gathered males, and my eyes narrow on them. The warriors gnash their teeth violently, their fists beatingtheir chest in salute and allegiance to the prince. There are those commanders around the outer ring who remain quiet, warily observing the chaos of the fanatics eager to rise to Vorn’s cause. Just beyond them, the gathol wing leaders are assembled and I note the distinct discomfort plainly on the face of many of those among their numbers.

Vorn settles back into his throne with a smirk of satisfaction, gesturing aimlessly at Ajek to take the lead now that he has gotten his followers riled up. His gaze shifts to me and his smile widens ruthlessly as he leans toward me on his throne.

“Daghel, you have special orders. While the other gathol go to gather the war-platforms, you will fly ahead and scout for the best vantage point to direct the gathols. There will be no survivors, do you understand? You will not interfere with my warriors, nor will you allow any other gathol to. If any disobey your command… drop them. Is that clear?”

I meet his gaze coolly and incline my head as I prowl away from the throne, my gaze trained on the gathol that I am now entirely responsible for. I pray that this does not come to haunt me in the days to come.

“Move out,” Ajek bellows, thrusting his first into the air. “May we be picking their bones out of our teeth for the days to come!”

A howl erupts from among them and the gathols move back a pace, their gaze shifting over to meet mine. There is no getting out of this, certainly not in the current setting. The maddened orcs would be quick to rip apart their own clan members if any of just choose to leave, risking our families. I tip my head toward the staircase going to the assembly platform and they nod. We will mount there and descend to gather the war-platforms from the outskirts of the village below. The males give one last glance to the room and withdraw toward the staircase, their path swift and silent. I follow them grimly, the fall of our boots echoing inthe staircase as we make our terrible march to the summit of the plateau.

In contrast to the frenzy descending through the palace, we remain silent as we exit the stairwell into the frigid air of the assembly, where the wyverns wait for us at the ready. Drisk catches the mood quickly, and he bends his head slightly to peer at me expectantly as his gaze shifts in search of our mate, but I give a small shake of my head. I will speak with him privately when we are airborne. The fact that Vorn has intentionally separated us from our females in this flight makes my skin prickle uneasily. Drisk does not offer complaint, but his eyes narrow as his head turns toward the palace, his long, pointed ears pricking as they draw from their tight tuck against the sides of his head. He rumbles quietly to himself with heavy suspicion but remains completely still as I launch myself onto his saddle and wait patiently for the strands’ invasion.

They launch themselves over me, crawling rapidly as they twist themselves so rapidly and violently into place with his impatience that I am forced to gasp to drag in a lungful of air.

“Apologies,”Drisk mutters along our connection and I frown down at him in reply, knowing that he will have his way of reading the expression without looking back at me now that we are connected.

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