Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,104
you.”
Arokan’s hands clenched into his throne, but otherwise, he held his emotions in check.
“She is Dakkari,” he argued, his voice deep and hard. “As is the child she carries in her womb at this very moment.”
A murmuring went through the horde and Hukan’s face paled. I jerked my head over at Arokan before I looked at my brother from across the way. I hadn’t told him just yet, but he inclined his head when he saw me watching, as if to say it was alright. He was watching Hukan’s trial with Mirari standing right next to him.
“A child,” Hukan said softly. Her eyes flashed to me. To Arokan. “I—I did not know there was a child.”
“My child,” Arokan growled. “A child of Rath Kitala, your own line. You betrayed my queen and you betrayed your own blood.”
Hukan was shaken by the news. For all her hatred of me, it seemed she held no hatred for my child. Because my child would share her blood, the blood of my husband, of his mother.
Before Arokan delivered his judgment, I knew what it would be. He’d told me before the trial had begun. Dakkari were never executed for their crimes. Instead, they were to face the judgment of Kakkari. They were exiled into the wild lands, never again to have the comforts and security of a horde. They were given a single dagger with which to live or to die. If Hukan somehow reached an outpost, it was up to their leader to allow her admittance or not.
A lonely, uncertain, and harsh existence awaited her.
Tears pricked my eyes thinking about it. Not for Hukan’s sake, but for Arokan’s. This was a female he’d grown up loving and respecting. A female that had looked after him after his own parents had been murdered by the Ghertun. Yet, she’d conspired with them to betray me, to betray him.
I didn’t feel sorry for her. She’d made her choice. She hadn’t denied it when she’d been confronted and two Dakkari had been murdered because of her.
My heart ached only for Arokan, for the difficult decision that he’d had to make and the grief that would always haunt him because of it. He would always live with this decision.
Arokan jerked his head at two Dakkari warrior escorts that would lead Hukan out into the wild lands, far away from the horde. Arokan stood from his throne. He descended the steps of the dais and stopped in front of his aunt. From his belt, he drew a dagger, which he gave to one of the escorts.
“This was my mother’s dagger,” he said. “May it serve you well.”
And then he bent his head low and spoke in Hukan’s ear. A goodbye, I knew. Perhaps even a thank you, for all that she had done for him up until that point. Because for all of her faults, she had protected Arokan when he’d been a child. She had given him council whenever he sought it. She had been his only remaining family.
I didn’t know what was said. It was a moment only for them and my heart twisted in my chest when Hukan reached up to touch Arokan’s cheek.
Then she looked at me. Our eyes held for a brief moment. I saw hers flicker over my healing split lip, the bruises on the side of my face from the Ghertun leader, the burn that took up half my shoulder.
Her eyes dropped to my belly, where my child grew.
“You are at the mercy of Kakkari now,” Arokan said, breaking her gaze. “Pray that she is merciful. Pray that she is more merciful than I.”
Hukan’s head dipped.
Then she turned away slowly, towards the warrior escorts.
Wanting to give Arokan comfort, I descended the dais to stand beside him. Discreetly, I slipped my hand into his as we watched the two escorts, on their pyroki, lead Hukan away. I squeezed his hand as we watched them grow smaller and smaller in the distance. The entire horde remained silent, watching until darkness fell over Dakkar. Watching until Hukan could be seen no more.
She was lost in the wild lands now, never to return.
Arokan kept a tight grip on my hand and I stood there with him, long after the horde members left, until it was just the two of us, staring into the dark night.
Arokan’s eyes were closed as I smoothed the washing cloth over his shoulders, over his chest. The day had been hard on him, the grief still raw.