Madness of the Horde King - Zoey Draven Page 0,108

a warning of what would come in the next few days.

I heard dozens and dozens of pyroki behind us, as their Vorakkar led them home. The Vorakkar who I’d begun to trust.

The Vorakkar I’d begun to love, I thought, my heart pricking. It felt like my chest had been cracked and a little bit of me was leaking out.

“You’ve known,” I whispered, that sense of calm still swallowing me. Maybe it wasn’t calmness at all. Maybe it was numbness.

“Neffar, leikavi?” he rasped in my ear. He dipped his head, nudging the tip of my ear with his nose, an affectionate gesture.

But I didn’t feel anything.

“You’ve known this entire time.”

Davik stilled. Then he was turning my face towards him, his brow furrowed, his mouth downturned as he studied my features in the moonlight. Trying to read me.

“Neffar?” he said, his tone darker, more serious this time.

I realized he couldn’t know. Because if he knew, he might figure out what I planned next. And he might try to stop me, especially since he was so damned determined to have me as his Morakkari.

“Nothing,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I—my dreams were strange.”

At least that wasn’t a lie.

The mention of my dreams didn’t make his tension ease.

“I didn’t dream your memories,” I assured him. “Don’t worry.”

He relaxed slightly at that, seeming to shake himself. There was still something he didn’t want me to know. Something worse than Mala.

Turning forward, I looked over the dark landscape before us. I knew where we were. Lokkaru’s memories ensured that.

Keeping my head still, I turned my gaze west. Though I couldn’t see it, I knew the ancient groves lay hidden there, not far from the lake where Lokkaru was buried, perhaps a full day’s ride from the horde’s encampment. From there, it was another day’s travel to the Dead Mountain.

And that was only if I could secure a pyroki for the journey.

My icy skin and lingering exhaustion told me I had two or three days until the symptoms from the vovic would become more severe. Perhaps another two days after that before I would be completely incapacitated.

I have to leave, I knew. Soon.

When we returned to the horde, I would need to sneak away because I was beginning to suspect that Davik had never intended to let me go. Maybe in the beginning he did…but not now.

I was out of time. Closing my eyes, I found I couldn’t even drum up anger at myself, or even at Davik right then. I was still so numb.

This was my fault. I’d wasted so much time.

And I’d trusted someone I shouldn’t have.

Chapter Forty

Davik was sleeping next to me.

I knew dawn was only an hour or two away. I knew that red and orange light would softly break over Dakkar and my chance would be gone.

And yet, I couldn’t stop looking up at Davik.

My cheek was resting on his bare chest. Finally, I was beginning to feel some of the numbness I’d experienced fading. In its place was a sense of loss—this deep sense of loss that made me want to scream.

I didn’t cry. I swore I got out all the tears I had left in me in my dream, if that was possible. Nothing was as it seemed anymore, so I didn’t know what was possible and what wasn’t. And so, I didn’t question it.

Davik’s chest rose and fell steadily, his brow furrowed, his lips downturned—broody and intimidating even in his sleep. My eyes traced the deep, jagged lines of the scar across his cheek. He’d never told me how he’d received it—though I strongly suspected it was related to whatever happened to his sister.

Who he also never told me about, I thought. Even the voice in my mind sounded sad.

There was so much I didn’t know about him. So much he refused to tell me. I kept secrets from him as well…so was there ever any hope for us anyways?

No, I knew.

Slowly, I lifted my cheek from his chest, my heart beginning to pound in my chest with nerves and fear. One of his arms was wrapped around me but I prayed he was tired enough from the journey to bury Lokkaru’s body that he was deep in sleep.

When I slipped from his arms and stood next to his bed of furs, I watched him carefully for a moment but he never stirred.

My heart felt swollen and heavy behind the brittle bones in my chest as I quickly dressed—stealing a clean pair of pants, a heavy tunic, and a