Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,14
my nudity, I would have preferred it over what they helped me dress in.
The skirt was made out of animal hide, similar to what the horde king had worn the night before. Tan in color, it was cleanly made, the stitching impressive. However, it came to my mid-thigh, exposing the majority of my legs. And I feared that if I bent over, my sex would be on display and exposed.
The gold beaded top was also too short, stopping just above my naval, molding to my breasts. Thankfully, the material was thick and the plethora of beads that decorated the front helped hide the outline of them. However, it left my shoulders and arms bare. The worst part, however, was that the neckline was attached to a thick golden band, which secured around my neck like a collar.
After helping me into sandals with very impractical, intricate, thin straps, the Dakkari females seemed pleased with their work. When I looked down at myself, my cheeks flushed with mortification because I felt every inch like a kept whore. Collared and exposed. All that was left was to be painted and coifed.
Which was apparently to be next, when I saw the females pulling out little pots of black and red pigments, a white bone brush, and gilded hair pins from their bundle.
“No,” I said, shaking my head, taking a step away. The beads on my top jingled and the collar around my neck felt too tight. “That’s quite enough.”
The Dakkari female frowned, looking down at the cosmetics in her hands. Her own eyelids were painted gold, her already dark eyes rimmed in a solid black powder. I didn’t want any of that on my face.
“Please,” I said, “just hand me the brush. I’ll brush out my hair, but that’s all I want.”
“I will do it,” the female said finally, gingerly setting her pots of cosmetics back into her bundle, though she didn’t seem happy about it. “It is my honor to serve you, Missiki.”
“My name is Luna,” I snapped, that overwhelming feeling returning full force, my voice sounding sharp to my own ears. I felt confined, on display. Nothing was in my control. I had been dropped into a world where nothing made sense and I just wanted someone to call me by my actual name. Not Missiki—whatever the hell that meant—not kalles or nekkar or kassikari or Morakkari.
Luna.
The name my mother had given me. An old name of our race. An ancient name.
Both of the Dakkari females blinked and exchanged a look with one another, freezing in place, their tails flicking behind them wildly. I blew out a breath, lifting a shaking hand to my wavy hair, which I usually kept pinned back since it curled around my cheeks.
“We cannot call you by your given name, Missiki,” the female said, her tone surprisingly gentle. “It is forbidden. Just as we do not call the Vorakkar by his given name.”
A name I still did not know, though I shared a bed with him. Though I’d bathed him and he’d caressed my breasts and told me I would be his queen.
Silence stretched out and the females seemed uncomfortable as they waited for me to speak.
“I’m sorry,” I finally whispered. “I didn’t mean to snap.”
Again they seemed uncomfortable, even with my apology. “You are our Missiki. You should not apologize to us. We are here to serve you. It gives us purpose and is a great honor bestowed on us by the Vorakkar,” the female repeated.
This was going nowhere. For whatever reason, these females thought they should obey me. They wanted to.
I sighed, looking at the brush the silent female had grabbed. “Very well,” I said softly. “No cosmetics, but will you brush my hair out and pin it back?”
“Lysi, Missiki,” the female breathed, seemingly relieved.
“Will you tell me your names at least?” I asked next, sitting on a nearby cushion. “Or is that forbidden too?”
“We are only piki. You may know our names,” the female said, though hesitantly, as if I wasn’t supposed to ask, as if it was strange. The customs of this culture would be difficult to learn, I realized. And what were piki? “My given name is Mirari.”
Mirari said something in Dakkari to the other female, who finally spoke, meeting my eyes for a brief moment before they darted away, and she said softly, “Lavi.”
It was then I realized that the silent female simply didn’t know the universal tongue, which was why she hadn’t spoken.