Madness of the Horde King - Zoey Draven Page 0,119

burned into me, a constant reminder.

I needed it.

Because if all else failed, just like Lokkaru’s father had done, I would use it to save Vienne.

“I will see you well, leikavi,” I vowed to her quietly, in that sacred, frightening place. “I swear it.”

Chapter Forty-Five

As the sun sank into the sky the following evening, I finally caught sight of my horde.

But what I found did nothing to release the tension inside me. It only added to it.

Rath Kitala had arrived. His darukkars and their pyrokis were camped outside the walls, most standing around fire basins as some of the bikku from my horde wove in and around, offering platters of food for their evening meals.

Not only that…but I saw the Killup had arrived as well. A smaller group than Rath Kitala’s, they were led by the same male I’d encountered with Vienne after I’d slaughtered his pack of jrikkia. The same male I’d bargained with, who was here to hold up his end of that bargain. The Killup didn’t eat meat so the bikku that were trying to feed them seemed flustered and unsure when they approached them with separate platters.

“Vok,” I cursed but I couldn’t worry about either group right now.

Vienne had been in my arms through the night and all through the day. It had been the longest day of my entire life, no doubt. When she woke, it had only been for brief moments. I would trickle water between her dry lips and she would try to speak…saying more about Devina, murmuring something about the heartstone, before she passed out from the waves of pain that were becoming more and more frequent.

The black veins had nearly spread over her entire body. I feared whatever the Ghertun had been giving her would consume her soon.

With that thought in mind, I turned towards the Killup, Nillima grunting and huffing with her sustained effort, the pyroki that Vienne had taken close behind us. The mrikro would feed them and care for them well tonight. They both deserved a much-needed rest.

The leader of the Killup stood when he saw me approach, his face impassive, his movements graceful and fluid. I didn’t bother with pleasantries. The Killup’s gaze went to Vienne as I passed him and I rasped, “She needs help.”

I didn’t bother to wait. I raced through the gates of my horde, which had already been alerted to my arrival. The tension was high. I could feel it. My horde was confused and wary of another Vorakkar so close—of Rath Kitala and his warriors—and of the foreign group of Killup, especially when I had disappeared for days after sending a search party out for Vienne.

I heard the gasps of the horde when they saw Vienne, clutched in my arms. Hedna darted out from the council voliki, followed by Rath Kitala, who looked on with bewildered confusion that morphed to concern when he saw the vekkiri in my arms.

“Bring me the healer,” I ordered to Hedna, who immediately inclined his head in a nod and raced towards Betrika’s—the healer’s—voliki towards the middle of the horde. I guided Nillima towards my own voliki before sliding down her side, Vienne firmly clutched in my arms.

“Thank you, Nillima,” I rasped to my pyroki. My most loyal friend, who would have my eternal gratitude.

Vienne woke with a cry when we hit the ground, the impact jarring her bones, which she’d said felt like they were breaking when she woke once on our return home. I growled, that same feeling of helplessness tearing at my chest. I wanted to take this pain from her. I never wanted her to feel a single slice of pain again. I never wanted her to fear anything again. I wanted to take it all for her. I wanted to protect her, to keep her safe…to love her.

“We are here, leikavi,” I murmured, seeing the mrikro out of the corner of my eye running towards Nillima and Vienne’s pyroki. I nodded at him. “Care for them well, mrikro.”

“Lysi, Vorakkar,” he replied but I was already turning away, my legs eating up the distance to my voliki.

Once inside, I carefully laid Vienne down on the bed of furs and even that pained her. Now that she was awake, her lips were parted, her eyes glassy. She caught my hand when I pulled away.

“Lysi, leikavi?” I rasped, hovering over her, smoothing back the strands of her white hair, which were beginning to cling to her forehead with her sweat.

“D-Dead Mountain,” she hissed, teeth gritted with

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