Captive of the Horde King (Horde Kings Of Dakkar #1) - Zoey Draven Page 0,26

own foolish way.”

Mirari went quiet for a brief moment, watching me begin to stitch the hide after I threaded the needle.

Finally she said, “You said ‘our’ village. Not ‘their’ village.”

My needle stilled. “What?”

“Loyalty to the horde is a concept that is driven into all Dakkari, from a young age,” Mirari said softly.

“What are you saying?”

“That you hold onto your life, your past life when you should not.”

“It was my home,” I argued. “It was where I grew up, with my mother, with my brother.”

“You cannot be our true Morakkari if you choose them over the horde,” Mirari said. “You were not born Dakkari, but you are Dakkari now. You have a responsibility to us now, to our Vorakkar.”

“You’re asking me to change my allegiance to him?”

“Nik, to us all,” Mirari said softly. “To the horde.”

My lips parted as I argued, “It does not have to be ‘them’ versus ‘us.’” Mirari’s brow furrowed. “You have heard stories of humans? We have heard stories of Dakkari too, of terrible things. We cannot hunt, we cannot plant, we cannot forage. We cannot leave the area of our settlements though the land is dead. And if we do, we die. We all share this planet now. There does not have to be a division.”

“It is our Dothikkar who has ultimate power over these matters,” she finally said, after a long silence. “There will always be division because of it.”

My shoulders slumped and I returned my eyes to the clothes, similar in style to the pants I’d made for Kivan a couple seasons ago.

“The Vorakkar is still a male, however,” Mirari said next, quietly.

Something in her tone made me look at her. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know of Drukkar?” Mirari asked.

I frowned. “No.”

“Drukkar is Kakkari’s counterpart. Her other half. Drukkar is our god and Kakkari is our goddess.”

I’d never heard of a male deity, only Kakkari.

“Kakkari is the earth—solid, nurturing. She gives us life. Drukkar is everything that supports her, a foundation for her to stand on. Rains, seasons, storms, heat. He can be violent and merciless at times, but she always opens for him, accepts him. Because of that, he loves her, he cares for her, and he punishes all that harm her.”

“I don’t understand,” I said softly, watching her carefully.

“Dakkari males are the same as Drukkar. They worship their female when she opens for him. They can be swayed.”

Realization hit me like a punch.

“You think…you think Aro—the Vorakkar,” I corrected quickly, “can be persuaded to help my village?”

“I am saying,” Mirari said carefully, “that if anyone can sway a male’s actions, it is their female.”

“How?” I asked softly. “I’m not…I’m not experienced in things like this. How do I ‘open’ for him?”

Poor Lavi had no idea what was being said, though she was obviously trying to follow the thread of conversation, watching our mouths, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Mirari’s lips curled and she asked Lavi something, who blinked, huffing out a small breath. Lavi replied in Dakkari and Mirari translated, “Lavi says satisfy his needs. Opening for your male is both literal and figurative.”

My cheeks flushed. “That’s a given.”

Mirari’s expression sobered a little as she said, “Support him. Males need comforting, no matter what they say. Every being needs comfort, needs warmth and affection. The Vorakkar…I do not envy his position. He works hard, he has sacrificed much, and he makes difficult decisions that most cannot fathom making. All horde kings do, to keep their horde safe and free.”

I swallowed, nodding slowly, my heart thrumming in my chest.

“Perhaps the Vorakkar needs your warmth most of all,” Mirari whispered quietly. “He has chosen you for a reason, when he has forsaken many.”

All I’d done was fight with him instead, I thought.

“There were other Dakkari females who wanted him?” I asked, pressing my lips together briefly.

Mirari nodded. “Lysi. Of course, especially in Dothik. Many vie for the attentions of a horde king, though in my opinion, it is distasteful.”

My eyes strayed over to the chests of treasures along the far wall of the tent. The shift I wore had come from them and I’d always assumed that he had his choice of females, probably had others who ‘served’ him, if he had a stock of clothes and trinkets for them.

“He has chosen you to be his queen,” Mirari said, “and you hold power because of that. Power over him.”

“Couldn’t you get into trouble for telling me that?” I teased softly.

Mirari’s laugh sounded beautiful. “Females always have power over their males. That is a truth.”

I

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