know your skill. I have seen it since we were young. I’ve witnessed it firsthand and I know the mokkira trained you well. And he is a fool to let you leave so easily, without a fight.”
Because he’d already chosen Nebrik and you know it, I told myself.
Kiran offering me the mokkira title of his horde only assuaged my mentor’s guilt. He’d probably been relieved when Kiran spoke with him…because it had made his decision easier.
When I turned to look at him, I was proud that I felt nothing. No throbbing aches. No pricking of desire. No pitiful little flutters of my treacherous heart.
Maybe I was finally immune to him, I mused, relieved.
“You heal because it is your purpose in this life, because it is your passion, because you cannot imagine doing anything else,” he told me, his voice sure. I hated that he knew me so well. That he knew my past like it was inked into the back of his hand. Because he had been very much a part of it. “And there are Dakkari and humans alike in my horde that need help for the coming frost. Don’t make this decision based on us.”
“And if I reject your offer?” I asked quietly, wanting nothing more than to do just that. “There is still time to send for a healer from Dothik for your horde.”
“There is,” he agreed. His eyes seemed to warm, some of that Vorakkar chill thawing when he met my gaze. “But Kakkari guided me back home for a reason. I don’t believe I’ll need to send a thesper to Dothik. Do you, rei mokkira?”
Damn him, I thought, my jaw setting, swallowing hard.
My mokkira, he’d called me.
“Think it over,” he said gruffly, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I must return to the horde in two days.”
Two days?
“This human that’s pregnant…” I began.
“Her mate is Dakkari,” he said, his tone rough. “Our first hybrid pregnancy in the horde. She will need help and you have the experience.”
My breath left my lungs, my eyes widening. “Not with that.”
“Then you will learn.”
Always so arrogant. Always so confident.
Perhaps Kiran hadn’t changed much after all.
He was asking me to leave my home for a season. The only home I’d ever known. He was asking me to leave my family behind. My father, my sister, Rasik.
I couldn’t. Surely, I couldn’t.
I had never been apart from them.
Then my treacherous mind whispered, The horde will still be in the south lands. Not far away. And it is only for the frost, no matter what he says.
Besides, I’d been ready to leave my family nine years ago, hadn’t I? When Kiran asked me to join his horde? I’d been all too eager to leave everything behind for him.
I stiffened, remembering how foolish I’d been.
This was different.
Wasn’t it?
Was I really going to leave home, to live at the Rath Okkili horde, whose Vorakkar I couldn’t stand to look at, whose knowing gaze reminded me of my self-disgust and shame, emotions that had taken me years to rid myself of? Was I really going to leave behind everything I’d known to live in a horde, on the wild lands?
I feared I already knew.
Mokkira.
It was everything I’d ever wanted, wasn’t it?
“I’ve missed you, seffi.”
His voice came quietly next to me, like a whisper in my ear. Vulnerable words I felt deep in my belly, like an ache that had never healed.
My fingers twitched at my sides and I didn’t dare meet his gaze. My cheeks felt warm with anger. Perhaps fear and trepidation as well.
“I told you not to call me that,” I said, keeping my tone even. After taking a deep breath, I told him, “You can call me mokkira now. For that is all I’ll be to you. And only through the frost. Afterwards, I’ll be returning home.”
The mokkira of Rath Okkili.
“My father is on a hunt right now. I won’t leave until he returns. I won’t leave without saying goodbye,” I said, my lips pressing together. I prayed he didn’t hear the bitterness in my words.
I turned from him, turning my back on Drukkar’s Sea, my heart heavy with my decision because I would have to speak with Laru.
“There is time for goodbyes, rei mokkira,” came his delayed reply, spoken when I was already halfway up the cliff’s path. “I must leave in two days, but once the horde is settled in the south lands, I will send a darukkar for you.”
“How long do I have?” I asked, relieved, though I didn’t