myself.
“But why?” she asked, turning her head to peer into the forest to our left. A forest she had, no doubt, spent much time in over the years. As had I.
“We don’t know,” I rasped, my fist tightening on the rein.
It wasn’t quite a lie. Truthfully, we didn’t know what was causing it, only that the Dead Mountain and the events that had transpired there many moon cycles ago—with the heartstone, with the white-haired human sorceress who the Vorakkar of Rath Drokka had made his queen—might be the root cause of it.
The Vorakkar of Rath Kitala had reported something that was scarcely believable…but I knew the Vorakkar was not a liar. I trusted him.
He reported that a dark red mist had blanketed the Dead Lands. Consuming it. Shielding it from view. According to Rath Kitala, even the Dead Mountain, the Ghertun’s stronghold and home to Lozza, the Ghertun king, couldn’t be seen within this strange mist’s depths anymore.
The mist didn’t seem to be moving. But it never dissipated, morning or night. It sat there, waiting.
For what? I couldn’t help but wonder.
All the Vorakkars were on edge. Just when we thought war with the Ghertun could be avoided…they’d unleashed this.
Whatever it was. A weapon?
Unless…
Unless it wasn’t the Ghertun’s doing at all.
Perhaps it was Kakkari’s doing. And we would all pay, not just the Ghertun.
Huffing out a deep breath, I shifted closer to Maeva, who still held herself rigid on Roon.
“I came to speak with my father…and because I wanted to ensure your safe passage to my horde,” I admitted to her gruffly.
A shiver racked down her body and I realized it was because I’d spoken very close to her ear. She’d always been sensitive there. Sometimes, when we were friends, I’d whisper in her ear just to watch her grin and squirm.
At the very least, I realized some things never changed. I was gladdened by it, actually, though watching her shiver from my voice made me highly aware of the flare of desire that heated my belly.
Vok.
“I’m sure your darukkars are more than capable of seeing me safely to your horde,” she told me, her chin lifting. “You didn’t need to come for my sake.”
“Then it is a good thing I had to speak with my father,” I told her.
“And a thesper wouldn’t have been enough?”
A small laugh burst from my throat. I knew it would draw my darukkars’ attention but I paid them no mind. Up ahead, the forest line was beginning to thin and then we could unleash the full potential of our pyrokis’ speed.
“Must you fight me on everything, seffi?” I asked her. “In this, you haven’t changed.”
She stiffened, becoming as still and unmovable as a boulder between my thighs.
“Please don’t act like you know me still, Vorakkar,” she said quietly. “Nine years is a long time. I hardly remember who I was back then.”
Something discomforting, something that felt like regret and shame and guilt, settled deep and took hold.
Then something defiant rose up in me.
I wanted to make her remember why we’d been so drawn to one another. Why we’d been inseparable, much to my father’s irritation.
I wanted to make her understand that she couldn’t simply erase our past, years of memories, because of the events of a single night, the last night I’d seen her.
“Then I will make you remember, Maeva.” My words sounded like a threat, even to my own ears. “Because I remember that girl, my seffi, with her wild hair and her easy smile, and I have been missing her for almost a decade.”
Her breath hitched in surprise.
“I will make you remember her,” I vowed, “because I can never forget her. No matter how hard I’ve tried.”
Chapter Thirteen
I had ridden on pyrokis almost all my life. Though, unlike the hordes, the saruk’s pyrokis were mostly shared with other members since their numbers were limited and we didn’t have much need for them.
However, Kiran had been the Rukkar and, as such, had his pick of the pyroki. I’d been twelve when he’d picked Roon, a newborn from his mother’s pyroki, for his own.
I remember riding Roon with Kiran during the hot season, when the sun was sizzling even over the south lands. But Roon would ride fast and the wind would soothe the heat, if only a little. Afterwards, we would ride down the slope to the shore and cool off in Drukkar’s Sea. The salt would dry in my hair and my skin would smell like the sea for the rest of the