Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,22

that.”

Mirari blinked. “He will wait until the black moon?”

Black moon?

“I don’t know,” I answered, because it was the easiest answer to give. Arokan had told me little about my purpose there. And what he had told me…scared me.

Yesterday, he’d told me again that I would be his queen, that he would fill my belly with his seed and get me heavy with his heirs.

He must think that humans and Dakkari could procreate. Was that my purpose? To be his breeder? Why didn’t he sire heirs on a Dakkari female? Surely that would be easier.

Mirari didn’t say anything in reply but she murmured something in Dakkari to Lavi, who stood and left the tent.

“Do the Dakkari often take humans from their settlements?” I asked softly.

Mirari jerked her head to look at me.

“You speak the universal tongue,” I commented. “So do others. For what purpose other than to speak to us?”

“To communicate,” Mirari said, as if it were obvious. “Most who have lived in Dothik can speak it. It is not just humans who live on Dakkar now. Even beyond our planet, the language is useful.”

“Dothik?” I asked.

“Our capital. Where the Dothikkar lives, our king.”

My lips parted. “I thought the horde kings ruled over your lands.”

“They do,” Mirari replied. “The Dothikkar stays in the capital. He handles…other matters, political matters. Our king was born into his rank. The Vorakkars earn it. They are our protectors and providers, celebrated kings in their own right.”

I thought of Arokan and wondered what he’d done to ‘earn it.’

I knew nothing about him, I knew next to nothing about the Dakkari, which Arokan had commented on last night.

But how could I? We knew of the Dakkari through rumor and whisperings only, none of them good.

“Why do the Dakkari not like to give their names?”

Mirari blinked and her gold-painted eyelids flashed.

“We believe,” Mirari started slowly, “that names have power over us. Dakkari give their true names to those who are important to them, who they trust not to abuse that power. Sometimes, however, names are given for just the opposite reason, to show that they do not respect the one they give it to, as an insult, to show that they are so low in their eyes as to not warrant concern.”

My lips parted. How would I ever understand this contradicting culture?

“And the Vorakkar?” I asked softly.

“Horde kings keep their given names especially close,” Mirari said. “No one needs to know it because the Vorakkars wield the ultimate power over their hordes. To know the Vorakkar’s true name would be an insult to him.”

But he gave me his name, I thought. For nothing more than my promise to eat a bowl of broth.

I didn’t think I understood. At least not entirely.

“Did I…did I offend you when I asked yours and Lavi’s?” I asked, wanting to know.

Mirari tilted her head to the side. “Nik. You are our Missiki, our Mistress, and soon to be our Morakkari. We serve you and it is a great honor to do so.”

“Even though I’m human and not Dakkari?” I couldn’t help but question.

She hesitated. “We respect the Vorakkar’s decisions. It is our duty as members of his horde.”

Her answer left me a little uneasy.

“But are there those that resent me being here?” I asked.

Again, she hesitated. It told me what I needed to know.

A moment later, Lavi appeared, pushing past the thick tent flaps. She held one open, however, allowing light to pool inside.

“Come, Missiki,” Mirari said, guiding me over to the entrance. “The Vorakkar is ready for you.”

Ready for me?

Sunlight blinded me when I stepped out of the tent. It was unusually warm that day for the season and I felt that heat across my bared flesh, like fingers against my skin.

Two guards were positioned at the front entrance of the tent, on either side, but they didn’t look at me. They kept their gazes averted.

Arokan stood a short distance away from the tent, speaking with the Dakkari male that had also come to my village, the messenger. Their tones were low and Arokan’s gaze met mine the moment I stepped outside.

The messenger’s eyes cut to me as well and I watched his lips press together. Perhaps he was one of the Dakkari that resented me being there.

Arokan said something and the messenger left him, stalking towards the pen of the pyroki that lay a short distance away. The horde king approached me and I couldn’t help the shiver that raced up my spine at the sight of him….couldn’t help remembering his